by Nancy Isaak
“So if we had pets—then they would be alive, too.”
Jay shrugged. “It’s only a theory.”
“It’s a good theory, though. And it’s not like we’ve got any others.”
“And if I’m right—then that will make going through the townhouses tomorrow a whole lot easier. I don’t know about you, but I was getting real worried about how we would feed a bunch of cats and dogs.”
“Not to mention fishes or bunnies.”
Lily moved slightly in her sleep, her thumb out, searching for her mouth. A disturbed Pugly, of course, merely farted.
“Sheesh!” Jay held her nose with one hand, waving the air with the other.
“Let’s just hope that it’s all the junk food he’s probably been eating and not the way he usually smells,” I said. “And I know you don’t want to, but we should probably go to Ralphs. Pick up some stuff. We’ll need dog food, bowls…puppy treats.”
Jay’s shoulders slumped. She did not look happy. “Couldn’t we just look for what we need in the townhouses?”
“We could do that…but I still think we need to go to the store,” I said. “Lily’s a little girl. She needs milk, vitamins, stuff like that.”
“The milk in Ralphs will have gone bad by now,” Jay whined.
“Agreed,” I said. “But we can get some of that soy or almond milk. That’s in those cartons that don’t have to be refrigerated. They can probably be kept for years.”
If anything, Jay’s shoulders slunk even lower. “Maybe we can find some in one of the townhouses around here,” she suggested.
“Maybe…but we still should go back to Ralphs and check if anyone has seen our note. Now that we know for sure that other people have survived, you know we have to do it. In fact, we’re going to have to go back and check at the Sheriff’s Station, too.”
Jay sighed. “I just was kind of hoping for a little break, you know—where I wouldn’t have to be so scared all the time.”
“I know…but we can’t stay in this room forever. Especially now that we have a little girl to look after.”
That made Jay smile. She turned to me, giggling. “Does this mean we’re parents?”
I started to giggle, too. “Mom says that I’d make the worst parent ever because I’m so disorganized and forgetful. She says that I’d probably take the kid to the mall and then forget it in Pottery Barn.”
“The only thing my dad thinks I’m good for is being a parent,” said Jay. “Well, rather that’s what he thinks all girls are only good for…oh, and for cooking dinner and cleaning up after him and my brothers, of course.”
“What does your mom think?”
Jay went quiet, as a sadness came over her. “You know my mom was a pediatrician back in Pakistan before she met my dad. Every girl in her family was educated. I still don’t understand why she gave everything up for my father.”
“I think you’re looking at it all wrong,” I said, gently. “I think your mom didn’t give her career up for your father. She gave her career up for you and your brothers. Because that’s what moms do.”
Jay nodded. “That’s what moms do.”
We both looked down at our thumb-sucking Lily.
Jay was the first one to speak. “I’m glad we’re not parents.”
“Me, too,” I said. “Let’s just be big sisters instead.”
“Agreed.”
* * * *
Later on that night, I woke up to find Jay back at the air vents, peering down at the carport below.
“What are you looking at?” I whispered, trying not to wake Lily.
“Nothing, really,” she whispered back.
“Did you see something?”
“No.”
I could tell that she wasn’t giving me the whole truth. Rising from my pillows, I crawled the short distance between us and sat down. “What is it?”
Jay turned to me. She had tears in her eyes. “You, me, Lily,” she said, quietly.
“And Pugly,” I added. That brought a little smile to her face. “And, of course, the ‘somebody’ from the condiments aisle.”
Her smile disappeared.
“What is it?” I asked again. “What’s got you so upset?”
Jay pointed to Lily, fast asleep, her arms around the little pug. “She’s maybe 7-years old, so how can this be purgatory or hell? I mean, who would put a little girl like that in such a horrible place?”
I sighed. “We’re not in hell, Jay. Heck—no pun intended—but who would put us in hell? We’re great girls.”
“Then is this all like…a big science experiment?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it the ‘End of Times’? Seriously, Kaylee…what is it? Why are we still here and everyone else is gone? It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sometimes things just don’t make sense,” I shrugged. “Sometimes you just have to accept that this is what you’ve got now and you just have to deal with it.”
Jay snorted. “You sound like Ms. Capadouca.”
“She’s a good guidance counselor. I like Ms. C…I wonder if she survived.”
“I wonder if she’s with all the other adults in some other alternate world,” said Jay. “I wonder if they’re all hanging out at some alternate-Starbucks, talking about how someone messed up real bad and left a few of us behind.”
“In a way, I kind of hope that’s the case,” I admitted. “I like the idea that my mom is alive somewhere. Certainly better than the alternative.”
“Yeah…me, too,” nodded Jay. “But I’d also feel bad for my mom, because that would mean that she’s doing all the housework by herself now. Not like my dad or my lazy brothers would help out.” She leaned forward and peered out of the air vents again. “There’s a lot of shooting stars out tonight. I think it might be the Leonids meteor shower. I’d check on my phone but…” Jay gave me a grin. “…net’s down.”
I laughed and pushed her aside. “Let me have a look.”
Jay had removed a couple of the vent slats to enlarge the viewing area. When I looked up at the sky, I could see ‘fireflies’ shooting across the heavens; streaks of light arcing from one side to the other.
“Pick one of them,” said Jay. “Make a wish…I did.”
A meteor shot straight overhead, brighter than all the rest. I closed my eyes and thought about my mother. ‘Please let her be safe,’ I wished. A moment later, I turned back to Jay and asked, “What did you wish for?”
“Certainly not Jacob Riker,” she sniffed.
“I didn’t wish for Jacob Riker!”
“Probably not…you probably wished for exactly the same thing I did. That our families are alive somewhere.”
“Whatever…I’m still not telling you what I wished for. Then I won’t get my wish.”
Jay snickered. “Ohmigod, you so did wish for Jacob Riker!”
* * * *
The next morning, Jay and I brought out our new hibachi and made sauteed vegetables and toast with jam for breakfast. I’d never made toast without a toaster before—definitely not as easy as you would think.
I kept losing the pieces of bread, dropping them onto the coals. Finally, I got smart and put the bread between two metal, open-slotted spatulas. By constantly turning the spatulas, the bread eventually toasted to a nice, golden brown.
(Jay and I have agreed that we’re going to eventually make a trip to a camping store for some real survival-cooking equipment. That will make everything so much easier…we think.)
* * * *
We didn’t have any food for Pugly.
(How stupid of us not to bring at least one tin of dog food from Lily’s townhouse!)
Lucky for us—and which confirmed the pug’s pungent aroma—Pugly ate absolutely anything that we put in front of him.
* * * *
Although we didn’t have running water anymore, Jay had been smart enough to fill up the tubs in both of our townhouses while the water was still available. We had been using it to wash ourselves, on
e kettleful at a time.
That morning, however, it seemed more important to let Lily have a regular kid’s bath. So we filled up a few pots with water, warming them up over the hibachi. Then we poured them back into the bathtub and sat Lily in there.
We wanted to give her a chance to get clean and play in the water—just like a normal 7-year old…in a normal world.
At first, Lily just sat there.
Both Jay and I wanted to give the younger girl her privacy. But because we didn’t know her, we were too nervous to leave her alone entirely. Instead, we stood on the landing, peeking into the room every now and again to see if she’d started cleaning herself.
After about five minutes of Lily not moving, I finally gave up and walked into the bathroom. Kneeling on the floor beside the tub, I reached over and picked up a facecloth.
“Sorry, kiddo,” I told her, “but you’re kind of a piggy-poo right now.”
I put some soap onto the facecloth and started rubbing Lily’s back, then moved on to her arms and legs. “There you go. You’re going to feel so much better once you’re clean.”
Lily said nothing—but she also didn’t try to stop me.
Her face was a challenge—covered with dirt and dried food. I was worried about hurting or scaring her but—when I scrubbed hard—Lily just put up with it, still not saying a word.
When the cleaning was finally completed, Jay entered the room with a handful of toys. “Here, Lily,” she said, dumping everything into the bathtub.
I didn’t think that Lily would even touch the toys, but she surprised me by picking up a little rainbow-colored horse and walking it slowly through the water. Jay and I watched for a moment—entranced—then slowly backed out of the room to give the young girl her playtime.
We sat on the nearby stairs, however—close enough to monitor Lily, but far enough away to give her privacy. At one point, Pugly ran by us, trying to corner a moth.
“You’re next, stinky butt,” I told the snorting beast.
* * * *
“You know, Lily could be a mute.”
Jay’s mouth dropped open. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”
I nudged her, grinning. “Just kidding. She talks.”
“How do you know?”
“One of her school certificates was on the wall in her mom’s bedroom. It was for choir.”
“I didn’t even notice it,” Jay admitted.
“Guess you should have paid more attention,” I smirked.
“Shaddup.”
Behind us, we could hear the sounds of splashing. Lily’s pony was apparently galloping through the bathtub-sea.
It made both Jay and me smile.
Funny how taking care of another human being can completely change your attitude—and so quickly. Before, Jay and I had been searching desperately for someone to take care of us.
Overnight, the tables had been turned.
Suddenly, here we were—the caretakers—the ones who had to be mature, be the adults.
Very weird.
* * * *
It was actually four days later before we finally ventured out to finish exploring the rest of our townhouse complex. The day was typical Southern California—the sun was shining brightly, birds were chirping, and the steady buzz of cicadas was coming from the bushes.
We’d lost track of the calendar, but we figured it was a Thursday…maybe.
Jay and I carried our cop-socks, while Lily walked between us with Pugly on his leash. Because Lily had come to us with only what she was wearing, Jay had given the little girl some of her own clothes to wear.
(It’s kind of funny how close Jay and Lily are to the same size. By the way, Jay absolutely does not find this as funny as I do.)
I thought Lily looked quite beautiful in Jay’s green and pink, polka-dotted dress. Her strawberry blond hair fell down her back, just brushing the top of her waist. She was wearing black Mary Janes and, over her shoulder, she carried a tiny pink purse that I had given her from my own collection.
It was really just a pocket-purse with a shoulder strap—barely big enough to carry a phone and a lipstick—but Lily seemed delighted to have it. She placed the picture of her mother and brother inside of it, as well as, a butter knife (I was assuming for protection) and a tissue.
Jay and I were a little nervous about such a small girl carrying a knife but—let’s face it—this is a whole new world.
She just might need it.
* * * *
We worked out a system.
Either Jay or I would break into the townhouse, while the other one kept watch. When the front door was opened, all three of us would enter and stay together.
Luckily, Lily didn’t stray. She walked right beside us, tugging on Pugly’s leash whenever he lagged too far behind.
After two hours of searching, we found…
…no pets anywhere…or kids.
* * * *
In one single-storey, we did come across an enormous terrarium, though. There was a large heat lamp above it—not working, of course; a pile of lettuce and carrots was rotting in one of the corners.
“Ewww,” said Jay, giving a fake-shiver. “I’ll bet they had something disgusting in there like lizards or tarantulas.”
“That’s a huge terrarium. They could easily have had one of those big snakes in there—like a python or something like that,” I suggested.
Behind us, Lily immediately picked up Pugly and cradled him in her arms. Jay, meanwhile, looked around the room, fearful. “You don’t think it’d still be here?”
I shook my head. “Probably not, but let’s move on, okay?”
And we got out of that townhouse really quick!
* * * *
The rest of the searches went without any problems or surprises—just more empty homes, with missing people and pets.
There was one odd moment, however—at the far end of the complex.
Bark, bark, bark…
It was Pugly, yapping away at something he saw through the trees. I knelt down to his level, looking through the foliage, but all I could see was the side of the hill leading down to Driver Avenue—and Agoura High School across the street.
Jay knelt down beside me, pushing aside a branch, so that she could see, too. “Anything?” she asked.
“There’s a rabbit over on the school grass. Could he be barking at that?”
I looked down at Pugly. Whatever had made him bark was obviously gone, because the little dog had turned in the opposite direction. He was now nosing around a slow-moving snail making its way across the sidewalk.
“You think maybe he saw someone…down at the high school?”
“Maybe. But whatever Pugly was barking at, I say it’s high time that we find some better weapons than our cop-socks.”
* * * *
While we never did find any pets in the rest of the townhouses, what surprised Jay and me, was that neither did we find any guns. Perhaps we didn’t look hard enough or perhaps we simply lived in a safe neighborhood. Whatever the reason—when the three of us finally returned to the Sitipala’s—we were tired, hungry, and—except for our cop-socks—basically weaponless.
“Okay,” Jay grouched. “Don’t even bother saying it. We didn’t find any soy milk in the townhouses, so I already know we have to go shopping.”
“We’ve still got enough to eat from our first trip if you want to wait until tomorrow,” I suggested. “And I’ve got some junk food left at my place that certainly won’t have gone bad.”
“We both know that Pugly needs dog food and Lily should certainly have something better than junk. So, let’s just get this over with so we can get back before nightfall.”
“Works for me. Besides, there’s something else I need to get, too. I’m not exactly certain, because I obviously can’t access my calendar app, but my gut is really cramping. I think I’m going to need some feminine supplies and there aren’t any left at my house.”
Jay grimaced. “Ohmigod, I hadn’t even thou
ght of that. This is so unfair!” She kicked at an acorn, sending it skittering across the path in front of us. “It’s the end of the world and we’re still going to get our periods, aren’t we?!”
“Looks like,” I grinned.
“You think that’s funny?!” Jay looked disgusted.
I didn’t answer because, what I really found funny—was her reaction.
The truth was, even though Jay was fifteen, she hadn’t had her first period. Maybe it was because she was so small, or maybe there was something just unique about her body, but Jay had definitely lucked out when it came to her female parts.
Of course, Jay didn’t figure it that way. It humiliated her to be the only one in our grade who hadn’t had her ‘friend’ come to visit, yet.
Me—I would have been ecstatic to be in her position. My period had showed up just after I had turned eleven, and it had been poking me in the gut ever since. Between the bloating, the chin acne, and the ‘keel-over-and-fall-to-your-knees-pain’, I just didn’t get why Jay was so looking forward to the misery.
* * * *
Rather than return to Ralphs, Jay and I decided to do our ‘shopping’ on the Vons side of Kanan Road instead. And it only made sense to walk to the mall, since we’d be pushing back carts. The problem with walking, however, was that the quickest route going there would take us right through Chumash Park. With the dark coming in about two hours, that meant that we would have to move quickly—unless we wanted to be caught out after sunset.
* * * *
Chumash Park was starting to look wild.
