The Dead And The Gone (13 page)

“No,” Alex said. “Not until tomorrow. Besides, Mr. Dunlap said there isn’t much there.”

“Not much is better than nothing,” Julie said. “I don’t want to wait.”

Alex didn’t want to, either, since the only thing he’d eaten all day was half a can of chicken noodle soup, with half a can of mushrooms promised by Julie for supper. “Wait a second,” he said, and walked to his bedroom. He lifted the mattress from the upper bunk bed, and pulled out the two envelopes that held keys for apartment 11F and apartment 14J. If either of them had ever come back, they’d made no effort to contact Papi. And if they hadn’t come back, there might be food going to waste.

Was it stealing? Was it a sin? Alex thought it might be both. But Christ couldn’t want them to starve when there was food available.

He walked back into the living room, his hands shaking with excitement. There was no time to waste, since the electricity came and went.

“We’re going upstairs,” he told Julie. “Papi had keys for two apartments, and if the people there never came back, we’ll take their food.”

They ran into the hallway and pressed the button for the service elevator. It had gone up to the twelfth floor and took a moment to return.

“We’ll start with fourteen J,” he said. “I don’t know when they left or if they ever came back. We’ll ring their bell and give them a minute before we open their door. If they do, look cute and apologize. We’ll take the stairs to eleven F next. Okay?”

“Do you really think I’m cute?” Julie asked as they boarded the elevator.

“Compared to me,” Alex said. “And maybe Carlos.”

Julie giggled. She hadn’t laughed, Alex realized, since Bri had gone.

There was no one in the fourteenth-floor hallway. Alex and Julie walked over to apartment 14J. Alex willed himself to press the bell. They could hear it ring within the apartment, but there was no other sound.

“Can we go in now?” Julie pleaded.

“Let’s ring it one more time,” Alex said. He didn’t want to knock on their door, since the other people on the floor would hear that. He gave them thirty more seconds, which felt like an eternity, then used the keys to unlock the door.

He could sense right away that the apartment was empty and had been for a while. There was a thin layer of dust on the furniture and the air was stuffy and hot.

“Hello?” he said loudly enough for anyone in the apartment to hear him.

There was no answer.

“Now?” Julie asked.

“Now,” Alex said, and they walked into the kitchen.

Alex knew he shouldn’t have been, but he was startled at how beautiful the kitchen was. It must have been remodeled recently, he decided. It was strange seeing how much bigger the apartment was than their own, how much airier and lighter. Same building, but totally different lives.

Still, he was alive and so were his brother and sisters. Who knew if 14J could say the same.

He opened the side-by-side refrigerator and was accosted by the smell of rotting fruits and vegetables. “They’re gone,” he said. “Let’s take everything in the cabinets.”

“Everything?” Julie asked. “Look, Alex, there are Oreos!”

Alex grinned. “Oreos and everything else,” he said. He checked under the sink and found a box of trash bags. “Let’s start loading.”

“Maybe she has a shopping cart,” Julie said. “Like Mami.”

“Where would it be?” Alex asked.

Julie scurried to the coat closet, and came back with a folding cart.

Alex began loading food into the plastic bags. There were cans of tuna and salmon and sardines, two jars of herring in wine sauce, lots of cans of beans and soup, both of which he was tired of but he knew ultimately he’d be grateful for. There were jars [+ of artichokes +] and hearts of palm.

“Saltines,” Julie said. “Look, Alex. Peanut butter. Look at all these different kinds of jams and jellies.”

“Not so loud,” Alex said, ramming boxes of weirdly shaped pasta into a bag. Searching the lower cabinets, he found two six-packs of bottled water, which he put into the bottom of the shopping cart.

“Pretzels,” Julie whispered as though Joan of Arc herself had materialized. “Hershey’s Kisses.”

Alex wished rich people ate more canned vegetables and fewer Hershey’s Kisses, but he had to admit it was exciting to see candy and cookies. He located a bag of puffed rice and a box of Cheerios and threw them into a bag. They’d eat weird, but they’d eat.

The wagon was full and the cabinets were empty. Alex handed the keys to their apartment to Julie. “Go back home with the cart,” he told her. “I’m going to try apartment eleven F. If I’m not back in half an hour, go there and see what’s happening.”

“Eleven F,” Julie repeated. “In half an hour.”

Alex escorted her to the service elevator, which hadn’t moved since they’d taken it. He thought about taking it for the three floors down, but decided it was safer to use the stairs.

He walked down the three flights of stairs, and rang the doorbell to 11F twice before using the keys to get in. He found the living room furniture covered with sheets, as though waiting for the walls to be painted.

He looked around quickly to confirm the apartment was empty, then went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Once again, he was assaulted by the glorious smell of rotten produce.

Having learned from Julie, he checked the hall closet and found a shopping cart waiting for him. He couldn’t locate shopping bags, so he used trash bags instead. 11F wasn’t too snobby to buy canned fruits and vegetables, he was delighted to discover. They had an especial fondness for Le Sueur green peas and apricots in heavy syrup. The sight of two big jars of applesauce made him salivate. He’d almost forgotten how much he liked it.

They’d feast tonight, he thought, and the image of Bri flashed through his mind. Would he have been so quick to send her away if he’d known there was food in the building for them to eat?

Yes, he decided. Bri was better off where she was, and so was Julie. What seemed like a lot of food now would dwindle to nothing in a matter of weeks. All he was doing was postponing the inevitable, not that he knew what the inevitable would be.

He finished loading the garbage bags into the shopping cart and said a quick thank-you to 11F and to Christ for the food that would keep them alive that much longer. He dragged the cart into the hallway, relieved no one had noticed, and found Julie standing by the service elevator, keeping the door open.

“I thought this would be faster,” she whispered.

Alex grinned at her. “You’re smart as well as cute,” he said, and they began the ride down, back to a home with food.

Monday, June 20

“The archdiocese has requested me to inform the students at St. Vincent de Paul Academy that the school will remain open all summer long,” Father Mulrooney announced before Mass. “If the longing for academia is insufficient enticement, the archdiocese wishes you to know that lunch will be served daily.”

There was a murmur of excitement. Even Alex, who’d dined on pork and beans the night before, grinned. The lunches at school lately had mostly been canned vegetables and potatoes, but food was food.

“Nothing in life is free,” Father Mulrooney continued. “Those students who wish to attend the summer program will be required to participate in a social welfare activity. Assignments will be made, and the students are to do their work before arriving at school. No completed work assignment, no lunch. That is the quid pro quo.”

Alex spent most of the school day trying to decide whether he should skip suppers on days when he had lunch in school. He wanted Julie to eat more than once a day, but he wasn’t sure how to swing that.

If things got really bad, maybe he could convince the school to let him take lunch home with him, and then he and Julie could split it.

At least Bri’s eating, he told himself as he went to Father Mulrooney’s office to find out his work assignment. He had definitely made the right decision. And because some food came in, it was probably the right decision to keep Julie at home. At least he hoped so.

“Ah, Mr. Morales,” Father Mulrooney said. “I see you’ll be staying on this summer.”

Alex shrugged. “I have nowhere else to go,” he said.

Father Mulrooney gave him one of his wrath-of-God looks. Alex had never known anyone to have such imposing eyebrows. “I trust one day you will appreciate the near sacred power of education,” he said. “As the world collapses around us, it is learning and culture that will prevent us from becoming barbarians.”

“Yes, Father,” Alex said. “May I ask what my assignment will be?”

Father Mulrooney nodded. “You’ll have the job of looking after some of the elderly and infirm parishioners in this neighborhood,” he declared. “Every morning before you come to school, you’ll check up on ten different people. You’ll knock on their doors, speak to them briefly, and have them sign a sheet indicating that they did indeed have contact with you. Not a particularly onerous task, but one that calls for strong legs and heart, since many of these people live on the higher floors of their apartment buildings.”

Alex pictured himself climbing the Alps on a breakfast of puffed rice. Assuming the puffed rice lasted another week, which he doubted.

“Thank you, Father,” he said.

“Your finals are this week,” Father Mulrooney said. “I trust you’ve been studying for them.”

“Yes, Father,” Alex said.

“Has there been any word from your mother?” he asked.

“No, Father,” Alex said.

“Very well, Mr. Morales,” Father Mulrooney said. “I look forward to seeing you here all summer long.”

Alex smiled. It was funny to think of Father Mulrooney looking forward to anything except a hot night translating Cicero.

He walked over to Holy Angels and found Julie waiting for him. Usually when he ran late, she was sulky, but this time she was bursting with excitement.

“Holy Angels is staying open this summer,” she said. “They’ll feed us lunch if we work and then in the afternoon, there’ll be classes.”

“That’s great,” Alex said. “Do you know what work you’ll be doing:” He wasn’t going to let Julie knock on strangers’ doors.

“We’re all doing the same thing,” Julie said. “They got permission to turn part of Central Park into a vegetable garden. Not a famous part. So we’re going to garden in the mornings. Isn’t that funny? Bri and I are both farmers. Then we’ll go back to Holy Angels and eat lunch and have classes. Lunch! If I’m eating lunch, Alex, you can have my supper.”

Alex stared at his sister. A month ago she never would have made that offer. Without even thinking about it, he gave her a hug. “Vincent de Paul is staying open, too,” he told her. “I’ll be checking on people to make sure they’re okay. Then I’ll get lunch and go to class, same as you.”

“When we get home, I want an Oreo,” Julie said. “To celebrate.”

“Two Oreos,” Alex said. “Let’s live dangerously.”

Thursday, June 23

With electricity pretty much gone in the evenings, Alex and Julie had gotten into the habit of going to bed early. Alex assumed Julie fell asleep right away, but he used the solitary time to listen to the radio, with the once missing earphones, and find out as much as he could about what was going on.

There were a couple of New York City stations that still broadcast, but Alex preferred the ones out of Washington and Chicago, which now came over loud and clear. He knew New York City still existed, but with all the horrible things happening throughout the world, it was comforting to hear that the rest of the United States, in spite of West Nile virus epidemics and earthquakes and blackouts and food shortages, was still surviving. He was reassured whenever the president addressed the nation to let them know the government was working hard to solve all the problems. One night he heard an interview with an astronomer about what would have to be done to get the moon back in place. Everything was still theoretical, but the brightest people in the world were working on it. Prayers, Alex was sure, would be answered.

“In New York City, the mandatory evacuation of the borough of Queens will begin on Saturday,” the news broadcaster in Washington announced. “All municipal services there will end by Friday, July first.”

Alex frantically turned the dial until he located a New York City station. The one he found talked of nothing else. Addresses were reeled off. Interviews with residents and city officials were played. Protests were described. It took almost an hour before Alex learned that all the hospitals in Queens were scheduled for evacuation no later than Thursday, June thirtieth.

Alex knew how implausible it was that Mami was still at St. John of God, working so hard she forgot to call her children for a month, but as long as the hospital existed, so did hope.

In a week, the hospital would be closed. In a week, Queens would no longer exist.

Did Puerto Rico still exist? Did the Morales family? Did hope?

Friday, June 24

Alex made a point of going to St. Margaret’s that morning, after dropping Julie at school. He’d been avoiding reading the bulletin board there, figuring he was following events carefully enough with his nightly radio reports. But if the evacuation of Queens could slip up on him like that, he needed to pay closer attention.

Sure enough, the Archdiocese had sent out an information sheet about Queens. It was dated a week before, and it listed all the times and places for people to board buses that would take them to an evacuation center in Bingham-ton, New York. From there they could make their own arrangements.

Father Franco walked over to the bulletin board, armed with new information. Alex said hello.

“How are things going?” Father Franco asked.

“Pretty good,” Alex said. “My sister and I will both be in school this summer.” He didn’t bother asking Father Franco if he’d heard anything more about Puerto Rico, or even about Bri. There was no point.

“I’ll let you be the first to know,” Father Franco said. “We just got the news this morning. Starting next Friday, July first, there’s going to be a food distribution at Morse Elementary School, on West Eighty-fourth Street.”