The Girl Who Owned a City

by O. T. (Terry) Nelson

  The Grand Avenue houses were turning into odd-looking fortresses. By the fifth day, there was an avalanche of rocks waiting to be triggered from each roof. A system of ropes and pulleys connected the houses, with a small mail pouch hanging from the rope to carry messages back and forth. Barbed wire looted from the hardware store was strung from one tree to the next, forming a barrier around the houses. The windows were boarded up with planks and shutters. Snarling dogs strained at their leashes, and warning signs were nailed everywhere.

  Long, narrow boards stretched between the rooftops, forming a network of catwalks. “In case of a heavy attack,” Craig explained, “it will be safer for us to be together in one house. We can climb across the houses to Julie’s. We’ll saw through the roof to make a trapdoor.”

  In the evenings, just before dark, the children had militia meetings. Each child chose his favorite weapon and practiced using it against imaginary enemies. They had knives and baseball bats and slingshots and spears. Craig made battle plans and drew maps of the block to plot their defenses.

  Every day they had emergency drills. When a house alarm sounded, Craig timed the militia’s response to see how fast the members could gather their weapons and rush to the house in danger. At first it was a mess, with children running in every direction. But after about 20 drills, they could assemble in less than four minutes.

  After the first drill, while they were laughing at their confusion, Eileen, one of Jill’s kids, came up with an idea.

  “That was really fun,” she said. “It’s just like a fire drill at school.” Then she suggested, “Why don’t we get some fire extinguishers and squirt them at the bad kids? That would be more fun than shooting guns.”

  What made her think of that? They couldn’t imagine, but it was a good idea. Craig sent a group of children to Forest Glen School to get a few. They soon returned loaded down with long, red cylinders that still worked. The shooting foam would at least confuse and slow down their attackers.

  The ideas were working, and everyone on Grand Avenue was having fun. They were proud of their work, and many of them were beginning to share Lisa’s feeling that working to survive and feeling proud of it could be a sort of happiness.

  They were building a real community, and a pretty tough community, too. Each end of the street was blocked with barbed wire and growling dogs. A large sign stood by each blockade as a warning to intruders:

  WARNING

  Private Property.

  Travel at your

  own risk.

  We want friends and peace.

  We don’t want to hurt you!

  The citizens of Grandville.

  They were ready, now. They all felt it.

  On the sixth day, Lisa and Craig decided it was safe to go back to the warehouse.

  “It will be better to have two cars, in case one should break down,” Lisa said. “I’d sure hate to walk all the way back. Do you think you can drive your dad’s car, Craig?”

  “I’ll try,” Craig answered.

  That night, when all the houses were quiet, Lisa instructed the sentry: “Be especially alert tonight. We’ll be back by midnight.”

  The two cars left the blockade slowly, without lights. It was very dark; there was no moon at all. The sentry followed them with his eyes as far as he could, until they went over the hill on Riford.

  Suddenly there was a loud crash from that direction. The sentry ran toward the top of the hill. There was silence again, and no sign of anything. He returned to his station.

  In the front car, the girl’s thoughts were racing.

  What a dumb thing to do, scraping the side of that parked car. I’ll bet Craig’s getting a big laugh out of that. Oh, well . . . I hope the warehouse is still our secret . . .

  What should we get this trip? Toddy’s been quiet lately . . . maybe I should take him along next time. It’s cool how happy everyone seems to be now. I hope we won’t need to fight anymore. Maybe we’ll look so strong that no one will even bother to try. When we get all six supply places filled, then . . . then, we can start to plan for raising food. We’ll need to know more about medicine and first aid. What if someone gets wounded? I wonder what Craig is thinking now.

  She slammed on the brakes to let a cat cross the road. The screeching sound from behind told her that Craig wasn’t paying attention. She instantly stepped on the gas to avoid the crash, but not in time. There was a loud scraping noise as his car struck hers. They stopped and got out of their cars to inspect the fenders.

  “Not too much damage, I guess,” Lisa said. “Just another couple of dents. Before long, Craig, your car will look as bad as mine.”

  Craig just stood there.

  She continued. “Relax, it’s no big thing. Just don’t drive so close next time.” Craig said nothing. They got back into their cars.

  He was still a little shaken by the accident, but soon his thoughts turned to other things.

  I hope that no one else has found the warehouse. I have to look for garden seeds while we’re there. What a dumb thing to do, hitting her like that . . . dad would really be mad if he could see what I’ve done to the car.

  I hope we never have to fight anyone . . . why should I be in charge of the militia? We’re just asking for trouble. Sure, we say we’re doing it just for defense, but what’s to stop Charlie from provoking a battle? Maybe Lisa will find another general . . .

  I can’t wait to see the farm that she talked about. It would be fun to have a place like that and raise food. I’m not a coward. I know we need some protection, but we’re getting carried away with the whole thing. Those kids think it’s all great fun now . . . play-fighting and shooting guns and planning strategy. Just wait until they see some of their own blood. It’s been fun building some of those traps and stuff, but . . . .

  It was very dark. As they drove, they thought about their problems and the days ahead.

  Craig was thinking of his farm, his fields, and his acres of crops. I’ll be the general for a little while, until I can train someone else to take over. But who?

  Lisa’s car was barely visible ahead. Now and then her brake lights would flash a warning to him. Otherwise, it was dark.

  We don’t need to start all over, Lisa thought. If we try hard enough, I’m sure we can figure out how to get some of it working again. Maybe not the jets, at least not for a long time, but for sure the power and water and . . . I don’t want Craig to get too serious about that farm. The others can raise food. I need him to help me rebuild things. He’s bright, and I’ll need all the help I can get . . .

  There were so many things to be done—important things like setting up a new hospital. Of course, it would all take time, but they had to do it. Knowing how to raise corn wouldn’t help remove a bullet from a kid’s leg.

  But maybe Craig was right. Lisa wished she could put her feelings into words, but she didn’t know the words tonight. Her mind was confused. It couldn’t focus on anything but the black road ahead. Something, somewhere was wrong. She could sense it.

  Their eyes were getting sore from following the faint white dashes painted on the highway. Finally, they reached the warehouse. It hadn’t changed.

  “Bring the flashlight,” she whispered, as though their normal voices would carry all the way back to Chidester Street.

  It was hard work loading supplies into the two cars. By ten they were exhausted, but the work continued for another hour. They had packed only essential items, the things that would save their lives. That’s what they had decided. “Chips and pop won’t save our lives,” she said. “Leave them for another time . . . cough medicine is important, take it . . . and get some Bactine while you’re in that section, aspirin too, and Band-Aids.”

  “Don’t you think we should bring a few treats, Lisa? How about some candy bars?” They found some and added them to the other supplies, but there wasn’t time for them to have a treat themselves. Lisa felt the urge to have a serious talk with Craig. But it would have to wait.

 
The clouds parted, and the moon lit the road on their ride home. They drove 10 miles per hour, then 20. Their tired bodies were anxious for rest, so they drove still faster.

  Why is she going so fast? Craig wondered, as his speedometer hit 30.

  The road was positively straight, and nothing lay in their path. Even the stray dogs were sleeping now.

  He wanted to honk the horn or flash his lights as a warning for her to slow down, but he couldn’t take any chances.

  She’s crazy, he thought, as he let her speed away from him. She must be going at least 50. She’ll kill herself! He slowed down a little.

  And then he decided to speed up. It was easy to control the car, especially when he stayed in the middle of the road. He wasn’t going to let her beat him.

  When the needle reached 60, he could see her just ahead. His hands were frozen to the wheel, his muscles tense. Pulling wide to the left side of the road, he roared past her at Main and Lombard.

  She came up beside him at Highway 53, and together they slowed for the Swift Road turnoff. Lisa resumed the lead, and they went back to their snail’s pace. A straight road was one thing, but the sharp turns on Swift Road were something else.

  The excitement of the race was gone in an instant when they turned onto Grand and saw the street filled with children.

  “What happened?” Lisa asked the sentry.

  The Chidester Gang had attacked. “They must have heard you crash on Riford. That was you, wasn’t it? They probably saw you leaving and knew it would be a good time to strike.”

  “Was anyone hurt?” she asked.

  “No,” he said, “nothing serious. They hit me on the head and then went straight for your house. Todd sounded the alarm and pulled the rock slide cord. The dogs were useless. They just wanted to play. But the rock slide did the job. A rock hit Tom Logan and knocked him out. The gang thought he was dead. They started carrying him away.

  “Only four kids showed up right away. I guess the rest were afraid. By the time the other kids answered the alarm, it was all over. Most of them watched from behind the trees until they thought it was safe to be brave.

  “By the time they got near my station, Tom was standing up. His head must have hurt a lot. The gang started to come at me but he called them off.

  “I watched them leave. At first, I was afraid that we’d killed Logan. I don’t like the kid much, but still, we don’t want to kill anyone, do we?”

  Lisa’s little brother was the center of attention. The other kids were coming over to give him high-fives. Todd was just glad to see his sister. He told her the story again in a rush of words. Lisa listened with new interest. He wasn’t quiet anymore. He was excited, proud, and scared all at the same time.

  “You’re a brave boy, Todd. Just think of all you saved. They would have taken everything.”

  Lisa wanted to ask the other kids something: Where did their bravery go? Would they have stayed behind those trees while the gang beat Todd up again? What if that lucky rock hadn’t found Logan’s head?

  But they were afraid. She could understand that.

  The members of the Grand Avenue militia all wanted to share the credit. Before long, they were inventing new versions of the battle. The defense system they had slaved for was now the real hero. “It worked!” they shouted. “Our defense plan worked!”

  The children were proud and more confident now. Let them imagine it as they please, Lisa thought. Maybe next time the memory will feed their bravery.

  She knew that there would be a next time, but she was certain also that next time victory would not be a matter of luck.

  Craig brought out the treats. Charlie built a bonfire in the street, and someone tried to make up a song about their “Grandville.” Julie made up the new lyrics:

  When we first came to this land,

  We were not so happy then,

  So we built a fighting band.

  Now we do what we can,

  And we call our land

  The land of Grand—

  Grandville—Grandville.

  They sang it over and over until it actually began to sound like a real song. It would run through their heads for hours.

  Lisa ended the evening with a special announcement: “Let’s declare that tomorrow will be the first holiday in Grandville. Sleep late if you like, but let’s meet by the lake at noon.” They roared approval and sang their new song all the way to their doors.

  CHAPTER NINE

  T

  he melody still ran through Lisa’s head as she climbed into bed next to Todd. “You were a brave guy, Toddy-boy. Will you come with me tomorrow night to the Secret Place? I need your help. Craig and I should take turns going, so that one of us will always be around here.”

  It was the best reward she could have given him. “You mean in the car and everything? Sure, Lisa, I’ll come!”

  “There’s one other thing, Todd. I’d like to have you try to drive the car. We can practice tomorrow in the Glenbard parking lot.”

  Todd was a happy kid. His thoughts raced as Lisa drifted into sleep. What time is it? he wondered. What day is it tomorrow? How many days have gone by since we were left alone? He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to him that it had been a long, long time.

  Even though it was an official holiday, the Grand Avenue citizens couldn’t sleep late. At eight, a small band of children decided to form a wake-up party. They called on Julie first, then woke up Charlie and his sisters. At the Jansens’, they added Jill, Missy, Katy, and all of their orphans. Then they went on to Steve and Cheryl’s house. Steve was angry at first, but the cheerful procession was too inviting, so he joined in.

  The mischievous troop went next to the Bergman house. “Let’s scare ’em,” said Steve. They surrounded the house, scratched lightly on the boarded windows and, on the count of ten, broke into a roar of war cries and giggles.

  “You didn’t scare us,” Erika lied.

  Craig was too sleepy to care. “Go away,” he said.

  “Come on, let’s get Lisa and Todd,” someone shouted.

  The Nelson fortress was stronger than any of the others, so they walked over the rooftops from Craig’s. “Be careful,” he warned, as they tiptoed one by one across the narrow planks above the houses. “Quiet, you’ll wake them!”

  Craig had already made them walk those high planks during militia practice. “You can’t be afraid,” he had said over and over again, but the children were still scared. Some of the younger ones had cried, while the older children pretended to be brave. But today they all had courage.

  “We’ll slip down through the trapdoor,” he whispered. “I’ll go first and help you in. This will be a ‘quiet’ exercise. Remember, not a sound.” He opened the padlock with his key.

  It was strange to see 30 children on top of the house, disappearing, one at a time, into the roof. Amazing, thought Craig, how quiet they can be when they want to be.

  Someone slipped on the trapdoor ladder and said a very bad word. “Quiet!” was Craig’s whispered order. “Watch your step.”

  Eileen giggled a little too loudly at the bad word. The other children glared her into silence. It was a good thing that Lisa and Todd slept way down in the basement.

  They tiptoed single file down the stairs, through the kitchen, and down to the windowless room in the basement. No one shouted. Julie knocked on their door. “Surprise! Wake up!”

  Yawning heavily, Lisa could only say, “How did you get in here?” Todd’s sleepy eyes tried to focus on the faces at the door.

  They dressed quickly while the other children gathered tools and weapons for the day. Everything was loaded into the two cars.

  “Drive slow,” Charlie pleaded, “so I can ride on the hood.”

  “Hey, good idea,” said Steve, and some of the other children climbed on top of the cars. The smaller ones piled inside. They drove toward the lake, followed by the shouts of those who were left to walk.

  It was a great day, sunny and warm for December. Jill took
the little ones to the swings, while a group of girls sat by a campfire singing. Charlie, Craig, Steve, and a half-dozen younger boys played football until the sky clouded up.

  It turned cold when the sun disappeared. The whole party moved into the boathouse. Why hadn’t they thought of it before? It was perfect. In no time the big fireplace was glowing. They laughed and sang for hours.

  “Where are Lisa and Todd?” someone asked, noticing that they were gone.

  “They’ll be back soon,” said Craig. He’d promised not to tell anyone that she was teaching Todd how to drive the car in the Glenbard parking lot. But Craig’s answer made them suspicious. Before long the parking lot was filled with spectators and eager students. “It’s not hard, really,” some of them bragged. “Toddy is getting really good. Look at him now!”

  Before long, Steve Cole approached them. “It’s time for someone else to be the sentry. I’ve been on guard since noon, you know!”

  “Here, Steve, want to try driving?” asked Lisa. “I’ll show you how.” He learned quickly. Good, she thought. Soon we’ll have six or seven cars running.

  After Steve’s lesson, she called them all together. “Okay, let’s pack up and get home. Hurry, it’ll be dark soon. Let’s load them up!”

  Their first holiday was over. “They’ll never be as good as this again,” she said, and the children agreed.

  After dark, Lisa and Todd got ready for their trip. “Keep a careful eye out tonight,” she told the sentry. Lisa drove away, but not on Riford this time. Instead they circled around on Elm and Main, and then drove back to St. Charles at Five Corners.

  Lisa’s old doubts were nagging at her, but she didn’t want to think about them. The celebration had really been fun, but something was wrong. What was making her feel so uncertain?

  Lisa stopped the car.