Susan Pfeffer - The Dead And The Gone

"Thank you," Alex said, taking the papers from him.

"The convoy leaves out of Port Authority at two Pm on Monday, December twelfth," Mr. Flynn said. "Get there by eleven. Maybe Kevin Daley's father could drive you down. He's in trucking." He paused. "No, on second thought, don't ask him. Don't tell anyone about the passes; they're too valuable. Don't tell anyone you're leaving New York until the day you go."

Alex nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Flynn," he said. "You're saving my sisters' lives."

"Yours, too," Mr. Flynn said. "I couldn't look Chris in the eye and tell him I let you die along with the city. I always appreciated what you did for Chris. Until he had you to compete against, he assumed winning came automatically. You gave him valuable lessons in losing. My guess is those lessons are helping him survive today."

"The lessons he taught me have helped me survive, too," Alex said. "Thank you, Mr. Flynn, for everything. I'll be in your debt forever."

"Stay alive," Mr. Flynn said. "That will be payment enough."

Thursday, November 24

There wasn't pumpkin pie at St. Margaret's Thanksgiving dinner, but there was pumpkin pudding in meringue shells. The string beans obviously came from a can but someone had thrown in some slivered almonds; the sweet potatoes had marshmallows mixed in, and there was enough stuffing for everybody. There was punch and even some apple juice. So what if there was no turkey.

Only eighteen more days until they were safely out of New York. Of all the secrets Alex had kept in the past six months, this was the only one that made him smile. He didn't care that he had no idea where he and his sisters would end up. Maybe it would be Florida or maybe Oklahoma or Texas or someplace altogether different. It wouldn't be the paradise Julie had fantasized about, with sunlight and clean air. But it would be safe and there'd be food and medicine, and from there they could make a fresh start.

For the first time in months, Alex allowed himself to think about the future. If he was too old to go to school, he could get a job. Towns couldn't exist without workers. If he could leave and come back, he thought he might try to find Carlos or Uncle Jimmy. If not, he would stay on as a laborer until Bri and Julie were taken care of. It wouldn't surprise him if, after high school, Bri entered a convent. Julie would probably find a guy while she was in high school and get pregnant, the way Mami had.

Alex finished his pumpkin pudding and grinned. If anyone had told him seven months ago that he'd be looking forward to a future where his kid sister had a baby before she turned eighteen and he would be a laborer instead of a college grad, he would have been furious. But now it sounded like-heaven on earth.

It seemed like everyone left on the Upper West Side was at St. Margaret's that afternoon. What remained of the Vincent de Paul and Holy Angels faculties sat at one table, laughing together. Harvey sat at another, gumming away at his food. Alex couldn't even hate him anymore. Life, for once, was too good for him to feel angry.

As he and his sisters walked home, they heard some noise on Ninetieth Street.

"What is that?" Julie asked, and Alex could see her tense up.

Bri looked puzzled. "It sounds like people having fun," she said. "Hear? I think they're laughing."

The idea of people actually enjoying themselves was so implausible, they lost all fear and went to look. There, on Ninetieth and Columbus, were a dozen men playing touch football.

One of them spotted Alex and his sisters. "Come on," he yelled. "We could use more players."

Alex gestured to his sisters. "What about them?" he asked.

"Cheerleaders!" the guy called back.

"Can we?" Julie asked. "Oh, Alex, please."

Alex looked at Julie and Bri. Half the football players were coughing from the polluted air. Bri couldn't possibly stay out long. But none of them had had any fun since Julie's birthday. "Just for a few minutes," he said. "Bri, you watch."

"All right," Bri said, but she was bursting with excitement also. They crossed the street and joined the crowd.

"It's not Thanksgiving without football," one of the guys said.

"Touch football," another said. "No helmets, no hits."

"No Cowboys, either," the first man said. "Jets versus Giants."

"We need another guy on our team!" another man yelled. "Come on, kid. You're a Giant."

And for one glorious moment, that was just how Alex felt.

Tuesday, November 29

There had been eighteen seniors in St. Vincent de Paul Academy before the Thanksgiving break. Now there were five. Alex figured most of them had gone on the convoy the day before.

James Flaherty was one of the newly missing. It worried Alex to see him gone. His father was a doctor, and Alex had counted on him to get more cartridges for Bri's inhaler when she ran out.

It didn't matter, he told himself. Bri had enough until they made it to the safe town, a place with doctors and hospitals and real medicine.

Two weeks. They'd made it this long. They could certainly make it for another two weeks.

Thursday, December 1

He had no idea what time it was when he woke up, but he knew he was cold. He was used to being cold by now, but this was different.

He fumbled around the end table, searching for the flashlight, and knocked over the half-filled glass of water he always kept by his side. But there was no sound of water spilling.

He flashed the light onto the glass and saw why no wearer had come out. It was more ice than water. The furnace must have run out of heating oil.

He'd known that would happen eventually, but he'd devoted a fair amount of prayer that it might last until they moved out.

"You couldn't wait two more weeks?" he asked.

Apparently it couldn't. The question became if his sisters, Bri in particular, could make it until then.

He allowed the familiar feeling of panic to wash over him, and then he began to think. It was only for twelve days, and for some of them at least, there would be electricity during * the day. With electricity, Bri could keep the electric blanket and electric heater on. He and Julie would be at school, and there was no reason to assume the oil would run out there.

For the rest of the day, or what passed for day, they should all be okay if they kept on sweaters, coats, scarves, gloves, and multiple pairs of socks. The building provided some insulation from the cold. It was hard to tell, but Alex didn't think the temperature got much below twenty degrees in the daytime outside, so it would probably be about that, maybe a bit warmer, inside.

Nighttime would be harder, but they still had a couple of unused blankets. The girls slept in the sleeping bags. They were both so thin they could share one bag, which would help both of them since they'd share body warmth that way. It would help him as well, because he'd be warmer in a sleeping bag. Julie wouldn't like giving up her bag, but tough. Asthma wasn't contagious.

With both girls in one bag, sleeping in coats and scarves and with extra blankets piled on them, they should be okay. He'd wrap himself in a blanket inside the sleeping bag, and that would have to do.

They 'd all need to sleep with as much of their heads covered as possible. But 11F had had a couple of ski masks, so the girls could wear those day and night. He'd wrap his head in a sweater, and that should help.

It was for less than two weeks, he reminded himself. After that they'd be living in a building with heat and hot water. He just had to keep them alive for eleven more days, and then things would be all right.

He brought the two extra blankets into the bedroom and put them over his sisters' sleeping bodies. In the morning he'd explain the new rules to them.