The Dead and the Gone

by Susan Beth Pfeffer

  Alex shook his head. "We can't expose Bri to the smoke," he said. "We'll build the fire in one of the other apartments. In the sink. And we'll put the pot on top of it and the water'll boil and we'll have macaroni and beans."

  "And bugs," Julie said, but Alex could hear the excitement and relief in her voice. "We don't have any firewood, though. What can we burn?"

  "Magazines," Alex replied. "There are plenty of those left behind."

  "We'd better boil lots of water," Julie said. "We're almost out of the water Bri boiled in the microwave. She boiled lots every afternoon, so we'd have it for an emergency, but we've pretty much used it all."

  "You and Bri have taken really good care of me, haven't you," Alex said.

  "It wasn't so bad before the snowstorm," Julie replied. "Bri used to thaw our suppers in the microwave when we were in school. Now we keep the cans in our sleeping bag."

  Alex thought about how often he'd felt burdened by his sisters. But he'd been as dependent on them for survival as they were on him. "It's only for a couple more weeks," he said. "We'll get on the next convoy. And Friday there'll be food. Until then, we'll eat macaroni and beans."

  "And bugs," Julie said. "Oh well. It's better than nothing."

  Friday, December 16

  Alex would have preferred to keep Julie home on Friday, but they needed the two bags of food. They'd finished the macaroni and beans by lunchtime the day before, and with the minimal amount of food in each bag, there was no way they could survive on what he alone would bring home.

  There was nothing in any of the apartments left to barter. Alex had searched carefully at first and then frantically all Wednesday and Thursday. He'd done it by candlelight since all the flashlight batteries had burned out. They still had two candles left and half a box of matches.

  Mostly they slept. Alex wasn't sure whether that was good for them or not, but there was nothing else to do, and he figured they probably burned fewer calories that way. He saw to it that Julie prayed during her waking moments. Prayer came naturally to Bri, so that was no problem.

  Everything was gone, used over months of bartering for cans of beans and bags of rice. The only things Alex could think of to bring to Harvey were the coat he was wearing and a bottle of aspirin he'd insisted on holding on to.

  That wasn't true and he knew it. While he'd traded practically everything he'd found in the medicine cabinets, he'd kept a half dozen prescription sleeping pills, so if he ever had to, he could drug Bri and Julie and smother them while they were sleeping. He was sure they'd be in a state of grace when they died and that was what mattered.

  He told himself not to go crazy, that Julie could figure out how to stretch two bags of food for ten days, or maybe the quarantine would be over and Vincent de Paul would reopen. If they could just make it to December 26, they had a chance.

  He hated seeing how weak Julie had gotten. He knew she'd been taking less food for herself so that Bri could have a little more. Silently he begged her forgiveness for ever complaining about her.

  There was no one on line when they got to the school. They both knew what that meant, but they walked up to the door anyway.

  FOOD DELIVERIES SUSPENDED INDEFINITELY

  Alex stared at the sign. What did "indefinitely" mean? Was it just until the quarantine ended? Or had the plug been pulled on the city? And if the city had been left to die, did that mean the convoys had stopped altogether? He willed Julie to start crying. Maybe if he had to comfort her, he wouldn't feel so helpless, so terrified, himself.

  But Julie never did what he wanted her to, and this time was no exception. "It doesn't matter," she said instead. "It wouldn't have been enough."

  "You're probably right," Alex said.

  They began the walk home. "I'll try Harvey," he said. "I have my coat and a bottle of aspirin. Maybe he'll give me something for that."

  "How can you survive without your coat?" Julie asked.

  "I can manage," Alex said. "I'll just walk around wrapped in a blanket. Maybe you and Bri can figure out a way of making it more like a coat for when we go back to Port Authority, so my arms will be free to pull the sled."

  Julie stood absolutely still. "I don't think we're going to need the sled," she whispered, as though there was anyone within five blocks to hear her.

  "We'll need it for Bri," Alex said.

  "She's down to her last cartridge," Julie said softly. "She's been using it for a couple of weeks. Sometimes at night she coughs and she doesn't use it and I think she'll die right then in the sleeping bag."

  "Bri isn't going to die," Alex said. "We'll be on the convoy in less than two weeks. We just need enough food to keep us going until then."

  "You sound like her," Julie said. "When she goes on about Mami and Papi still being alive."

  "It's different," Alex said. "We can't do anything about Mami and Papi. But we can still keep ourselves alive. Including Bri."

  "Would it help if you took my coat?" Julie asked. "It's too big for me anyway."

  "Keep your coat," Alex said. "Maybe next week we'll bring it to Harvey."

  They walked in silence until they got back to their building. "I'm not afraid to die," Julie said. "I figure I'm going to know more people in heaven than I do on earth anyway. Mami and Papi and Kevin. Lots of people. I just don't want to be the last one to die. That's what scares me most, that you and Bri will both die and I'll be all alone."

  "That won't happen," Alex said.

  Julie stared up at him, with that strange combination of extreme youth and unnatural aging. "Promise?" she said.

  "Promise," he said. He hated the thought of climbing the twelve flights of stairs, but he hadn't taken the bottle of aspirin with him and he had to get it. It took them twice as long to get up the stairs as it had the week before. He didn't know how on the twenty-sixth he'd manage to carry Bri down the stairs to the sled.

  She was sleeping when they got in and her breathing was labored. When her cartridge ran out, Alex told himself, that night he'd find the strength to give them the pills. They'd die peacefully and that was the best anyone could hope for.

  He found the bottle of aspirin and told Julie that he was going. "Do you want me to go with you?" she asked.

  "No, stay here," Alex said. He wasn't sure what he'd do if Harvey made an offer for her while she was with him. He took his time walking down the stairs, and then slowly made his way to Harvey's. He knew it was possible no food had come in during the week and Harvey might not have any to barter. He also knew Harvey might find his coat and a bottle of aspirin worthless. He knew lots of things that he didn't want to know.

  But at the store he found the one thing he didn't expect: The door was locked.

  Alex banged at it. Maybe Harvey was in the john. But there was no sound. Had Harvey gone? Had he somehow escaped, in spite of the quarantine?

  The thought enraged Alex. If Harvey had left, he certainly would have taken his food with him. But Alex was too angry to be rational. He pulled off his shoe, and using what little energy he had left, used it to smash open the storefront window. Shards of glass fell onto the snow.

  Alex put his shoe back on, reached in, and unlocked the door. Harvey was lying on the floor, his right arm stretched out, as though he was grabbing for something.

  Alex took off his glove, knelt, and felt for a pulse. He couldn't find one, but Harvey was still warm, so he put his ear to Harvey's mouth to try to sense any breathing. Not that he'd know what to do if Harvey was still alive.

  It didn't matter. Harvey was fresh dead. Probably no more than ten minutes. The last of a dead breed.

  Alex knew he should pray for Harvey's soul, but the only prayer he could utter was "Please God, let me find some food." He stepped around Harvey and began to search.

  The storefront was completely empty. Desperate, Alex opened the door to the bathroom. He found a couple of candles on the sink, and two boxes on top of the toilet.

  The first box held nothing but clothes, so filthy Alex could barely mak
e himself touch them. He threw the box onto the floor, took a deep breath, and opened the second one. It was half full with food. Two bags of rice, six cans of red beans, two of black beans, four of spinach, two of split pea soup, one of lentil, one of carrots, three of mixed vegetables, and one of sardines.

  If they were careful, the food could last until the twenty-sixth. They'd save the sardines for Christmas.

  Alex knew he'd have to move fast. He wasn't the only person on the Upper West Side praying for food. He pulled out one of Harvey's shirts, loaded it with the cans and bags and candles, then tied the sleeves together. He unbuttoned his coat, slid the bundle next to his chest, and buttoned the coat back up. It wasn't much of a disguise, but it would have to do, on the off chance he saw another human being between Harvey's and home.

  He went back through the storefront, glancing briefly at Harvey. "I'll pray for your soul when I get home," he promised, then unlocked the door, looked around at the empty street, grabbed the sharpest shard of glass for protection, and began the journey back to safety.

  Chapter 18

  Saturday, December 17

  "Alex, what are you doing?"

  "Taking off my coat," Alex said. "It's awfully hot in here. I think I'll open a window."

  "Alex, it's freezing in here. Alex? Alex, answer me. Bri! Bri, come in here now! Alex's collapsed!"

  Sunday, December 18

  "Alex, drink this. Alex, you have to swallow this."

  "Mami?" When did Mami come home? She was at work, at her new job. How could she be home? And why wasn't he at school? It was too hot to be a snow day. It must be a hundred degrees.

  "He's kicking the blankets off again. Julie, help me."

  "No!" Alex said. "Mami, no. I'm too hot."

  "Alex, it's all right," Mami said, but she didn't sound like Mami. She sounded like Bri. Only Bri was coughing. Bri coughed too much. Papi never coughed. A man didn't cough. Alex was going to be a man just like Papi. He would never cough.

  "Julie, hold him while I get the soup down."

  Alex laughed. How could Julie hold him? Papi could hold him, but not Julie. Where was Papi, anyway? He'd gone away a long time ago, but he should be back by now. Apartment 12B had a problem with plumbing. Papi had to fix it. Papi could fix anything. Papi could fix the moon.

  "Do you think he got any of the aspirin down?"

  "Yeah, I think so. Alex, keep still. We're trying to make you better."

  No one ever tried to make Carlos better. Carlos was just fine the way he was. He never had to work for anything. Neither did Bri or Julie because they were girls and no one expected anything from them. No, just Alex had to get better. Whatever he did was never good enough. Vice president. Assistant editor. Second in his class. Never good enough. How could he be president of the United States if he was only second in his class?

  He was tired of being second best. He was tired of trying and failing. He was too hot. He must have died and gone to hell. Only hell could be this hot.

  Monday, December 19

  Mami washed his face with a cold washcloth. "Don't fall asleep, Alex," she said. "Stay awake now."

  Sleep? How could he sleep? He was freezing. Why wasn't the radiator working? "Papi, I'm cold."

  "Put another blanket on him," Bri said. "Take one of ours."

  One of their what? Who threw him into a snowbank? Carlos must have. Carlos thought he was a big baby. He'd show Carlos. He'd climb out of the snowbank himself.

  "Julie! He's trying to get up. Hold him down."

  Julie couldn't hold him down. No one could hold him down. Not even Chris Flynn could hold him down. He was the first Puerto Rican president of the United States. Chris Flynn wasn't. Carlos wasn't. Not even Papi was the first Puerto Rican president of the United States. Why would anyone throw the first Puerto Rican president of the United States into a snowbank? Why wasn't there any heat in the White House?

  Kevin respected him. "Hello, Mr. President," Kevin said.

  "Hello, Mr. Vice President," Alex said. That didn't seem right. Alex was vice president, not Kevin. What was Kevin? Was he Secretary of State? It was hard to remember.

  "Heaven's not too bad," Kevin said. "Better than I'd imagined. Lots of copies of Playboy in heaven. Harvey gets me all the latest issues."

  Harvey had opened a newsstand. "Wanna copy of Playboy?" he asked Alex with a leer. Harvey had lost all his teeth. "Two copies for a can of tomatoes and a spitfire."

  Hell had been so hot, but heaven was even colder. Somehow Alex had thought heaven would always be at seventy-six degrees. Maybe warmer if you wanted to go swimming.

  "You might as well die, Mr. President," Kevin said. "We're all going to die soon enough."

  "Not I," said Father Mulrooney. "I will never die."

  Alex was pleased to see Father Mulrooney. "I think you should be Chief Justice," he said to the elderly priest.

  "I'd rather be ambassador to the Vatican," Father Mulrooney said, shooting his eyebrows so high they bounced against the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

  "Want to go body shopping, Mr. President?" Kevin asked. "Look at this nice big pile."

  Alex walked over to the pile of bodies. There must have been a hundred of them. Kevin brought him a ladder so he could climb all the way to the top to look for shoes and watches.

  Papi was on top of the pile. Alex picked him up and threw him down to Kevin. "Good catch!" Alex cried.

  Next came Mami. "Here we speak English," she said as he tossed her to Kevin.

  Somehow Kevin himself had gotten to the top of the pile. He grinned at Alex and said, "I'm dead, Mr. President. Remember?"

  "No you're not," Alex said. "I pulled the branch off of you. Kevin! Come back here! Kevin!"

  "He's calling for Kevin," Bri said. "Do you know where he is, Julie? Maybe he could help calm Alex down."

  "Kevin's dead," Julie said.

  Alex laughed. Kevin was the only person on earth who hadn't been a fluicide. Kevin hadn't waited around to die of the flu. And he hadn't risked his immortal soul by killing himself. No, Kevin was too smart for all that. He found a tree limb to stand under.

  "Good thinking, Mr. Vice President," Alex said. "We need more men like you at Vincent de Paul."

  Vincent de Paul. It was a school day. Even the president of the United States had to go to school if he wanted to get into Georgetown.

  "Bri, help me. He's trying to get up."

  "Alex, lie still. Don't struggle so. Alex, it'll be all right. Just relax."

  Relax. Like the leader of the free world could relax when he was being held down on a snowbank. Where were the Marines when you needed them?

  "Here we are!" Carlos said, looking very handsome in his Marine uniform. Aunt Lorraine was standing by his side, sobbing hysterically, but Carlos didn't seem to mind. "Stay where you are, Mr. President. I'll take care of Bri and Julie. You're just a baby."

  "Am not," the president of the United States protested. "Mami, Carlos is teasing me. Mami!"

  "A real man doesn't need a mother," Papi said. "Look at me. I'm a real man. I don't need a mother."

  "Mami!"

  "Alex, it's me, Bri. I'm here and so's Julie. Alex, take another swallow. Do it for us."

  "No! I'm the president of the United States. I don't have to swallow."

  "Julie, stop laughing. Alex's delirious."

  "I know," Julie said. "I just think he's funny."

  Funny? The president of the United States funny? She should be arrested for treason. Alex decided to make a list of all the reasons why Julie should be arrested for treason, but he was too cold to look for a pencil. He'd take a nap instead. Maybe when he woke up, he'd be warm again.

  "Alex. Just one more swallow," Bri said.

  But the president didn't hear her.

  Tuesday, December 20

  "Bri! Come here. I can't get Alex to wake up! Alex! Alex!"

  Wednesday, December 21

  "What?" Alex said, struggling to sit up.

  "Julie, wake up. I think
Alex is awake."

  "Of course I'm awake," Alex said, but he had a feeling all that came out was "Wugga wugga."

  "Alex, look at me," Bri said. "Do you know where you are?"

  That was a tough question, but he'd answered harder ones at school. "Home," he said. That didn't sound like "wugga wugga" at all.

  Bri smiled. Alex could see Bri smile. Alex smiled back.

  "Alex, we want you to drink some of this soup," Julie said. "Here, take a sip. It's split pea soup. It's your favorite."

  Alex was too polite to tell Julie that minestrone was his favorite. He took a sip of the soup. It tasted awful. "You're a lousy cook," he said.

  "Take another sip," Bri said. "It's yummy."

  Alex did as he was told, but the soup was anything but yummy. "Where are my arms?" he asked.

  "They're right by your sides," Bri said. "You're in the sleeping bag."

  That made sense, he supposed. "The sun is shining in my eyes," he said.

  "The sun doesn't shine anymore, Alex," Julie said.

  "Santa Madre de Dios," Bri said. "The electricity's back on."

  Thursday, December 22

  "What time is it?" Alex asked. "What day is it?"

  Julie laughed. "It's close to three," she said. "And it's your birthday."

  His birthday. There was a reason why that was important, but Alex couldn't concentrate enough to think why. "How long have I been sleeping?" he asked.

  "You got sick days ago," Julie replied. "Saturday night. Today's Thursday, so you've been sleeping all week. You were delirious at first, but since yesterday I guess you've been more normal."

  "Fluicide," Alex said.

  "What?" Julie asked.

  "The flu," Alex said. "I must have had the flu."

  "You still have it," Julie said. "But now I don't think you'll die."

  "Was I that sick?" Alex asked.

  Julie nodded. "Especially Sunday and Monday," she said. "You were really crazy on Monday. Then you went to sleep and we couldn't wake you up and we were terrified. But you woke up on your own, and you've been awake a little bit at a time ever since."