Susan Pfeffer - The Dead And The Gone

Friday, November 18

Alex, Kevin, and Julie spent five hours on the food line and ended up with enough food for the weekend, maybe Monday. Alex carried the food upstairs, then took three of Papi's cans of beer and the last bottle of scotch. He'd been holding off trading Papi's beer for as long as he could, but times were getting desperate. He was used to not eating supper, and Julie could get used to it if she had to, but there had to be some food for Bri.

He looked in on Bri, lying in the sleeping bag, covered with blankets. She smiled at him.

"I can't wave," she said. "It's too hard to get my arms out of here."

"Don't bother," he said. "Stay warm. I'll be back in a little while with more food."

"Take care," she said. "I love you, Alex."

"Love you, too," he said.

Alex put the liquor in his backpack, then put on the heavy wool coat Greg or Bob had left behind in June when nobody thought about constant cold. He was glad he'd held on to it. All the other coats were gone.

He was more nervous than usual walking toward Harvey's, and he tried to make himself laugh by thinking of the beer cans as weapons. There'd been no sight of the guy who'd tried to take Julie, but that didn't mean he wasn't still around.

But he made it without incident to Harvey's, and he was pleased to see Harvey hadn't lost any more teeth during the week.

"I brought you my best stuff," Alex said, unloading the backpack.

Harvey nodded thoughtfully. "I can always count on you, Alex," he said. "I got a half dozen cans of mixed vegetables, and look at this, four juice boxes —remember those?—and a nice bag of rice."

"That's a start," Alex said, falling into the now-comfortable ritual. "I might trade the scotch for that. What'll you give me for the beer?"

Harvey laughed. "I love ya, kid," he said. "Okay, I'll throw in two of my best cans of spinach, and just because I like you, a can of lima beans."

"I hate lima beans," Alex said, remembering a time when he wouldn't even eat them.

"Sorry," Harvey said. "Want some mushrooms instead?"

Lima beans were more filling. "I'll stick with the lima beans," Alex said. "What else?"

"You're killing me," Harvey said. "Okay, for you, the last known box of Cheerios."

"Deal," Alex said. Between the Cheerios and the rice, they'd all be able to make it for a week or more.

"Hold on, hold on." Harvey said. "I got another proposition for you."

"Sure, what?" Alex said, not that anything was going to be better than Cheerios.

"I didn't want to say anything last Friday, till I asked around," Harvey said. "See what I could find for you and your sick sister. Someplace safe and easy to get to, right?"

"Right," Alex said. "Harvey, did you find someplace?"

"It wasn't easy," Harvey said. "But the arrangements are all made. A van'll pick you up and take you direct to this place outside Gainesville, Florida. It's one of those safe towns for important people's families. Plenty of food. Electricity. Schools. Even a hospital. Wish I could get into a joint like that." He spit contemptuously. "I'd rather die here than in one of those evac centers," he said. "Glad you won't have that problem anymore."

"Harvey, thank you," Alex said. "How soon can we go?"

Harvey smiled. "How soon can you bring your sister to me? The cute little spitfire?" he asked.

"Could the van pick us up at our apartment instead?" Alex asked. "I don't think Bri can walk this far."

"No problem," Harvey said. "Let me know when you can get the spitfire up here, and the van'll be waiting to take you back to your place for the other one. This'll work out great for you, Alex. You and that sick sister of yours will be just fine, and you won't ever have to worry about the spitfire. I can't name names, but the man who's taking her is very well connected."

Alex stared at Harvey. "You expect me to trade Julie?" he asked. "She's my sister."

"So what?" Harvey said. "You have another."

Alex wanted to strangle Harvey, choke him so hard his rotting teeth would fly out. But without Harvey there wouldn't be enough food for any of them to live.

He pulled his lips apart in what he hoped resembled a smile. "I don't think so," he said. "Thanks anyway, Harvey. I appreciate the offer, but I can't accept."

Harvey shrugged. "It was the best I could do," he said. "There'll always be a market for her, but I can't guarantee door-to-door service to Florida."

"I understand," Alex said. He put his hand out to shake Harvey's. "No hard feelings?"

"No hard feelings," Harvey said.

Alex put the vegetables and the juice boxes and the spinach and the lima beans and the rice and the Cheerios into his backpack. "See you next week," he said, trying not to tremble as he put his coat back on.

Harvey nodded.

Alex walked out of the store and went around the corner. There was no food in his body, but that didn't stop him from heaving until he collapsed from horror and exhaustion.

Monday, November 21

Alex confessed his sins, including homicidal thoughts, to Father Franco on Saturday and spent the rest of the day in silent prayer and fasting. He didn't eat again until after Mass on Sunday, and he used the twelve flights of stairs he climbed by Bri's side to meditate on the twelve stations of the cross.

By Sunday night he'd made his plan. The only thing that had held him back for so long, he acknowledged, was his false pride. And nowadays, pride could kill.

He didn't think twice about the easy deceptions of Monday morning. Body shopping with Kevin, neither one of them doing much talking. Going back to the apartment with the little he'd garnered. Saying hi to Bri, awake but still in bed. Urging Julie to get ready for school, since they always ran late on Mondays. Going into Vincent de Paul, placing his backpack in his locker, and leaving without a word to Father Mulrooney or any of his other teachers. Boys came in and out now, and no one seemed to care.

He took out the card Chris Flynn had handed him so long ago, and checked the address, even though he'd committed it to memory. West Fifty-second Street, farther south than Alex had been since he'd gone to the Port Authority back in May.

It felt weird to see the skyscrapers once brimming with life and now half dead. But even half dead was busier than his neighborhood, and the people he saw walked with purpose. They were the important people, he realized, the ones with connections, the ones whose families were safe. Everything about them was cleaner, even their face masks. And they still had flesh on their bodies; not a single one was a walking skeleton. Alex wondered what it must be like, not to be hungry and dirty and scared. Although if they were sane, they were scared.

He hoped the people wouldn't notice he didn't belong and force him back uptown before he saw Mr. Flynn. All his life he'd had moments of feeling like an outsider —in his family because he loved school so much, at school because his family had so little money. But he'd never felt like an outsider in New York before. Now he did and it frightened him.

As he walked south of Central Park, he found there were no corpses and no rats. Either people were healthier midtown or the body collecting was more efficient. Either way, it showed that there was more than one New York, and this was the one that counted.

He fingered Mr. Flynn's business card like rosary beads. He couldn't even be sure Chris's father was still in New York.

But there was no one left Alex could turn to who might possibly help. Bri's and Julie's lives depended on it. He paused for a moment outside the office building, prayed to Christ for strength and mercy, then straightened his tie and walked in.

There was a sole security guard in the otherwise empty lobby. "Yeah?" he said.