In any case, my primary concern was to make Sara happy, so one day, she and I walked to the edge of Swope Park where the nice neighborhoods began and started our search for an empty house. It didn’t take long. Just two blocks from the edge of Swope Park, we found a house whose windows had been boarded up. As we were poking around it, trying to find a way inside, a man from next door confronted us suspiciously.
—Can I help you?
As always, Sara was the one to talk.
—We were just looking for a place to stay.
—Well, you can’t stay here. The couple that owns this house is still alive. They’re just living with their son right now. And anyway, we don’t allow squatters in this neighborhood. It’s bad enough with those crazy homeless people always begging from us.
He shook his head, crossing his arms and staring at us until we left. This was exactly what I’d feared. I was ready to give up and go back to the tent, but Sara had another plan.
—All we have to do is find an empty house with the owners’ names on the mailbox, then make up a story about being their niece and nephew or something. It might take a bit of acting, but I think we could pull it off.
—Maybe you could. I’m terrible at acting.
—Well, you can just stand there and nod your head while I do all the talking.
What she didn’t add, but I’m sure she meant, was “as usual.” We walked around a few neighborhoods, trying to figure out which houses were empty. It was harder than I thought it would be. Without electricity, all the houses looked empty unless we happened to catch a glimpse of someone in a window or outside in their yard. Finally, though, we found another house with the windows boarded up several blocks away from Swope Park.
We cased the house from afar, trying to find out as much as we could about the owners without looking too suspicious. We learned from the mailbox that the owners’ names were Dave and Cathy Arnold. The lawn was quite overgrown and had gone to seed, but then so had everybody else’s since there hadn’t been enough gasoline to waste in lawnmowers since PF Day. We could just barely make out one of those wooden yard decorations featuring the rear end of a plump woman bent over next to a sign. We finally figured out that the sign said Grandkids spoiled here. We figured that meant that Dave and Cathy were at least middle-aged.
On the walk back to the park, Sara and I discussed our plan. We would go to the house and if anyone confronted us, we would say that we were Dave and Cathy’s great niece and nephew instead of their grandkids, in case the neighbors were familiar with the Arnolds’ grandkids. We would tell them that our parents had died and that we had walked 60 miles from St. Joseph to live with the only living relatives we knew of.
That evening when we told Aaron our plan, he shook his head and said,
—I don’t think that’s such a good idea. People are awful jumpy these days with the gangs and all runnin’ loose.
I agreed with Aaron, but Sara said we should at least try. After all, what could they do to us? Since the second CME, there were no phones to call the police and even if the neighbors had guns, surely no one had any bullets left after having to hunt to survive for several months. I reluctantly told Sara we could try her plan the next day.
Aaron shook his head again, muttering tsk, tsk. Then all of a sudden he looked up and stared at us intensely over the fire. His eyes looked a little wild in the firelight, maybe angry. When he spoke, he sounded mad.
—You damn kids never listen. You gonna get us all in trouble, ain’t you?
Then he left the fire and went into his tent. Aaron had been acting strange since the night of the attack. That didn’t surprise us, though, as we were all shaken up by it. But now there seemed to be a new dimension to his attitude—anger. Sara felt bad that Aaron was angry with us, but was still determined to try to find a house. She couldn’t imagine how us looking for a place to live could have any effect whatsoever on Aaron and the lost souls.
Late the next afternoon, Sara and I went back to the neighborhood of the Arnolds’ house. It started snowing lightly as we walked along the empty streets. This time, when we got to the house, we went right up to it like we were supposed to be there. While we were knocking on the doors of the house and trying to peer through the cracks of the boarded up windows, a middle-aged woman called to us from the porch of her house next door.
—Hey, what are you kids up to?
We walked over to the low hedge separating the houses and Sara answered,
—We’re trying to find our aunt and uncle.
—They’re not home right now, but they’ll be back later. Aunt and uncle, you say?
—Yeah, great aunt and uncle, actually. Cathy is our grandma’s sister.
—Well, like I said, they’re not home. You better go somewhere else.
—Um, we don’t have anywhere else to go. Our parents died, and we’ve walked all the way here from St. Joseph to live with them. We have no one else…
Hearing the sadness in Sara’s voice, the lady came over to where we stood behind the hedge. She looked all around her and said in a hushed tone,
—Look, I’m sorry you lost your parents and all, but the truth is your aunt and uncle are gone, and I can’t let you stay in their house without proper legal papers proving you’re their rightful heir. The chief of police lives just down the street and everyone is really anxious right now. There was a home invasion last night a couple of streets over, and the owners got beat up pretty bad. They said it looked like some homeless person looking for food or something. There’s no way the neighborhood is going to allow anybody new in right now. I’m really sorry, kids.
Sara and I murmured our thanks and walked slowly along the road back to the park. We didn’t talk or touch each other the whole way. We were both a little disappointed and disheartened. I didn’t think I had wanted to live in a house again until the prospect was snatched away from us.
It was getting dark by the time we made it to the park. The snow was beginning to accumulate and made everything look eerily white in the dim, cloud-scattered moonlight. In the twilight, we could just make out the shape of a large vehicle ahead as we rounded a curve in the road. We immediately hid in the trees and cautiously crept closer to investigate. The words Police were just visible in iridescent blue letters on the side of the white van. After what we had heard earlier, we knew this could be bad. We also knew we had to warn Aaron and the lost souls as soon as possible, so we headed to the spot that Aaron had pitched his tent for the past few nights.
As we crept toward his campfire, we could hear Aaron talking to someone. Peering from behind a large bush, we saw two cops in uniform standing on either side of Aaron. They didn’t appear to be holding on to him, but looked like they were ready to grab him if the need arose. We could plainly hear what they were saying, especially Aaron, who sounded agitated.
—I ain’t done nothin’ wrong, and you can’t commit me again. I’ve got my emancipation papers right here in my pocket.
One of the police officers grabbed Aaron’s hand as he tried to reach into his pocket for the papers.
—We know, Aaron. We’ve seen your papers before. We’re not trying to commit you. We just need information. What do you know about the incident last night?
—I don’t know nothin’! I was just here mindin’ my own business as always.
—How many other people live here in the woods?
—I don’t know nobody else. I just mind my own business.
—Now, Aaron, we know you know what’s going on. Come on, help us out, or we’re going to have to take you in.
—No! Please don’t take me in…
Aaron’s voice had changed from angry to pleading in a split second. I could feel Sara tense up beside me and knew what she was planning. I grabbed her arm to stop her, but she shrugged me off and went anyway. This was becoming an all too familiar occurrence with us, always ending badly. I had no choice but to follow her into the clearing where the police officers drew their weapons on us. Sara put her arms u
p and started talking.
—Aaron was with us all day yesterday. We didn’t see or hear anything.
The cops relaxed when they saw we were just a couple of kids, but did not lower their guns. Aaron began nodding his head like a bobble head doll.
—That’s right, just like I told ya. See? Just like I told ya.
—Miss, this is a very serious investigation. We’d like you two and Aaron here to come down to the station with us to answer some questions.
—Can’t we just do it here? What happened?
—No, it’s best if we go to the station where we can take your statements.
—But we don’t know anything.
—Yeah, just like I told ya—we don’t know nothin’!
—I’m sorry, Aaron. We still need to get statements from you. As soon as we’re done, you’ll be free to go about your business.
One of the policemen took Aaron by the elbow and started leading him through the trees toward the street. The other one grabbed Sara’s arm. I momentarily thought about running, but the thought of leaving Sara to fend for herself and, even more disturbing, the consideration that she would think I abandoned her, made me lose my nerve, so I allowed the cop to take my arm as well. He led us through the trees to the awaiting police van, where several of the lost souls were already inside.
Chapter 23
Police Station
It felt weird riding in a vehicle af-ter a year of walking everywhere. It was also smelly. Being that close to the lost souls in a confined space was almost more than my nose could stand. Not that I smelled a whole lot better probably, but Sara and I did make an effort to wash ourselves from time to time with water warmed over the fire and dog shampoo that we had taken from the veterinary supply car of the train.
It only took ten minutes to travel the distance from the park to the police station; the same route had taken Sara and me hours when we escaped from Matthew’s gang downtown. Sara’s eyes got big as a frightened doe’s when she realized we were headed to the central police station downtown. I don’t think she would have come to Aaron’s defense if she knew that was where they’d take us. I had been worried about that all along because I remembered my dad saying that the central station had been the first to have solar panels installed and the only one to have been completed before PF Day. In my mind, it only made sense that most of the after-dark operations would have to be carried on there, where they could have lights. Unfortunately, I was right.
When we got to the station, Sara clutched my hand as I pulled her close to my side with my other arm around her shoulders. We had to wait in the holding area for a few minutes while they sorted us out. The officers were separating us, sending some to holding cells and others to interrogation rooms.
Sara and I were the last to get assigned to rooms. While we waited, a cop brought in another person. I barely glanced his way, but I took another look when I felt Sara stiffen beside me. It was just an ordinary scruffy looking, bald man, yet I could feel Sara shrinking beside me, trying to melt into my side and disappear. I was about to ask her what was going on, when the man suddenly noticed Sara. He stared at her intently for a second, and then the look turned into a sneer. Right then, I recognized the man as the gang member who had almost found us on the fire escape when we had fled downtown months before.
I had a sick feeling in my gut as a female officer separated Sara and me, placing me in a holding cell. Sara clung to me, pleading with the woman to let us stay together, but the officer gently pulled her away and took her to be questioned. I was left for most of the night in the cell before they came to get me for questioning. By that time, I was so exhausted from lack of sleep and worry about Sara that I don’t even remember what the detectives were asking or what I answered. Apparently, they knew they couldn’t get any useful information from me because after an hour or so of questioning they sent me back to my cell. I kept asking where Sara was, but they just answered that she was fine, not to worry.
Sometime early in the morning they released me. I begged them to tell me where Sara was, but they just said she had been released a couple of hours before and had left the station. They couldn’t tell me which direction she had gone or whether she was alone or not. I exited the building, trying to find familiar footprints in the snow, which had accumulated to about two inches deep during the night. It was impossible. There were so many footprints that the snow was trampled flat in front of the door, and much beyond that was covered with the fresh fallen snow.
I looked all around the station in a panic. Where could she be, where could she have gone? Why would she have left the safety of the police station, even if they wouldn’t let her stay inside? Why would she leave without me? I strained to look as far as I could down the street to the west. I could see nothing moving except a few small birds picking around in the snow. I looked north and south as well, but still didn’t see anything. When I tried to look east down the street, I had to shield my eyes from the rising sun with my hand. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, but then I saw several people standing under an overpass three or four blocks down. Of course! They would want to go somewhere dry to stand and wait for the others to be released. I trotted the few blocks to catch up to them.
As I neared the overpass, though, I could tell Sara wasn’t among the men. Aaron was there and several of the lost souls, but no beautiful girl with haunted blue eyes. My heart seized up, and I got that sick feeling in my gut again.
—Have any of you seen Sara?
Aaron and most of the lost souls shook their heads sadly, but one of them, a disheveled, wild-eyed man named Ernesto, got all agitated, gesticulating wildly with his hands.
—A demon came and took her. Just swooped in and carried her away.
—A demon? What are you talking about?
I was angry now. I didn’t have time for the ranting and delusions of a crazy man.
—A demon. Or maybe it was Satan hisself… Yes. It was Satan. I’m sure of it now. I think I saw horns on his bald head. He just scooped her up and carried her off. Damn dirty demon…
At the mention of the bald head, I froze, knowing exactly who he was talking about. I grabbed Ernesto by the shoulders and shook him.
—Why didn’t you stop him?
Ernesto looked at me incredulously, and then his expression became patronizing.
—Ain’t nobody can stop the devil. Everybody knows that.
Ernesto shrugged and looked at me pityingly as I dropped my hands from his shoulders. He was right—he couldn’t have stopped him and neither could’ve I. Sara was gone, and I could only hope that the gang would release her, and I would find her unharmed. My voice was quieter but shaky.
—Which way did they go?
Ernesto slowly pointed down the street to the west, and I took off at a jog, not sure if I was ready to face Matthew’s gang, but also not willing to lose Sara to them.
Chapter 24
Grey
I wandered the empty downtown streets all morning, looking for Sara. Everything was grey: the skeletons of the burned-out buildings, the now-useless streets, the piles of dirty snow. I couldn’t tell where I was; I may have been going in circles for all I knew because every block looked exactly the same as the last—grey upon grey upon more grey. After what must have been hours, during which my fingers and feet became numb and my throat hoarse from calling her name, I spotted a red pile a couple of blocks away. It looked so out of place among all the grey; it looked so beautiful, like a red flower blooming in the snow. I knew it must be Sara’s red wool pea coat, the one she took from her Mom’s closet the night we ran away, the one that would make her look older and keep her from being picked up as a runaway. I began running toward her, forgetting all about my tired legs and frozen feet.
As I drew closer, I could see that it was indeed Sara and that she was lying on the ground, her upper body on the sidewalk with her legs hanging over into the street. Her position looked odd, not natural and, thinking she was dead, I struggled to stifle a
scream. However, at the sound of my footsteps, she weakly lifted her hand, the one closest to me, so I knew she was alive. When I got to her, I saw that the red was not just from her coat, but also from a pool of blood that she was lying in. It took me a second to realize that it was her blood.
I dropped down and lifted her head onto my lap, murmuring soothing, nonsensical words to her. She opened her eyes and smiled weakly at me, gathering up her strength to speak.
—They got me, Ben… I tried to give them all the money… but they didn’t want it… said it was worthless now.
—Shhh, don’t try to talk. I’m going to get help. You’ll be alright.
I think I was trying to convince myself more than her. Her eyes looked deep into mine then, imploring me to listen. The haunted look was gone, but in its place was an urgency, a pleading.
—No… listen, Ben. Remember… remember all I’ve been saying… all I’ve been trying to tell you…
—I will, but you’ll be alright…
The blood was still oozing through her shirt, soaking into her coat and adding to the pool on the ground. I pressed my hands on her belly, trying to slow the flow of blood, like I had seen the zookeepers do when trying to save the baby impala. Soon the blood was oozing through my fingers, and I felt as helpless as I had that day at the zoo, while the innocence and life drained from the poor animal’s body. Sara groaned and forced herself to talk through gritted teeth.
—My song… remember my song?
—Yes, If I Die—
I stopped suddenly, tears springing to my eyes as I remembered the words to her favorite song, If I Die Young. Sara continued, but her voice was getting weaker, hoarser.
—I’ve always known I wasn’t going to be here long… I belong with my mom and dad… I was just here to help you… to help you understand… Remember what I’ve said. Remember, Ben… Promise me you’ll remember.
Teenage Survivalist Series [Books 1-3] Page 26
