"And what's so special about you that you deserve compassion?" Father Mulrooney said. "You have shelter. You have food. You have family and friends. I'm supposed to feel pity for you because of a cut cheek?"
"You don't understand at all," Alex said. "I have shelter for as long as no one thinks about it. Once they do, once they realize my father is gone, they can throw us out. I have food only if I get lunch here. We're down to almost nothing at home, and I have to make sure my kid sister eats. She is my family right now, because my parents are both gone and my older brother is in the Marines somewhere and I sent my other sister to live at a convent with strangers. My cheek was cut because I got caught in a food riot, with my kid sister, and we ended up with no food anyway. I'm not asking you to pity me. I pity me enough for the two of us. But when one of your students asks you for food, you shouldn't say no and feel righteous about it. That's not what Christ would have done, and you know it."
"These are the worst of times," Father Mulrooney replied. "Rules are needed even more now. Without them there is anarchy."
Alex thought about the riot, about the baby, about the man he had trampled on. "Sometimes the rules don't work," he said. "Sometimes the rules cause the anarchy."
"I believe you were on the debating team," Father Mulrooney said.
"Yes, Father," Alex said.
Father Mulrooney nodded. "Very well," he said. "I'll think about what you just said."
"Thank you, Father," Alex said. "I'll think about what you said as well."
He walked out of the office to find Kevin Daley standing there. "I like your style," Kevin said.
"Thank you," Alex said. "I like it, too."
Wednesday, July 6
Kevin ran over to Alex as he was about to leave to get Julie. "I have something for you," he said, handing Alex a brown paper bag.
Alex peeked inside the bag and saw a canned ham.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"Don't worry," Kevin said. "No one'll notice it's gone."
"I can't pay you for this," Alex said, handing the bag back.
"I'm not asking for anything," Kevin said. "You're doing me the favor. I can't stand the stuff."
Alex couldn't begin to guess how many meals he and Julie could make from the ham. "Thank you," he said. "My sister and I ... Well, I really appreciate it."
"De nada," Kevin said with a grin, and Alex grinned back.
Thursday, July 7
Alex left Julie in the apartment and went up to check out the four vacant apartments for which he had keys. It took a fair amount of searching, but in 11F, he located a travel alarm clock. At some point he'd go through things more thoroughly, but this was all he wanted right then.
He set the alarm for 5:00 AM to make sure he had enough time to get ready. Curfew ended at 6:00 in the morning. He didn't know how rigidly it was being enforced, but he couldn't afford to take any chances. Julie wouldn't survive if he ended up in jail or shot for curfew violation.
He knew he wouldn't sleep well anyway, since he'd be worried the alarm wouldn't go off. It would take a while before he trusted it. But it was the best he could come up with in a world with unreliable electricity. And knowing he'd done the best he could made him feel more positive about how things would go on Friday.
Friday, July 8
The clock worked. Alex dressed and left a note for Julie, explaining he was going to the food line and that she was to stay in the apartment until he got back. He was pretty sure she would. She'd gotten better about doing what she was told. Then again, he wasn't telling her what to do as much.
He left the apartment at 6:00 on the dot, and ran down the few blocks to Eighty-fourth and Columbus. When he got there, the line had already curved around Amsterdam, but it was nowhere near as long as it had been the week before. Alex wondered if it would get that way later, or if people had given up. It didn't matter to him, just as long as he got there early enough to get the bag of food. Two would be better, but after last week he wasn't going to risk Julie's life. One bag of food, he hoped, would be enough for the two of them for the weekend and for suppers for Julie for the week, if not for him. That didn't matter too much. He was getting used to being hungry. There were worse things.
The line began shuffling forward around nine-thirty. It felt good to see progress so quickly. By ten-fifteen Alex was inside the school, and twenty minutes later he had his large plastic bag of food to take home. Smooth and easy, he thought as he checked out the contents. A box of powdered milk. Two bottles of water. A can of spinach, two cans of green beans, a box of rice and another of instant mashed potatoes. A can of chicken and another of kidney beans. A jar of pickled beets and a can of fruit salad. Pretty much the same stuff he'd been getting for lunch. Enough for him to have something to eat over the weekend and for light suppers for Julie all week. She was getting creative with stretching their food, so maybe she'd get a couple of extra meals out of it for him.
He walked west rapidly, to get away from the crowd of people still waiting, and made it home without incident. He showed Julie what he'd gotten, then walked her to Central Park. On his way to Vincent de Paul he made his stops.
"See," Father Mulrooney said as Alex handed him his sheet. "I knew you could do it all."
Alex wasn't sure, but he thought Father Mulrooney actually smiled. Alex risked it, and smiled back.
Kevin was waiting for him in the cafeteria. "Where were you this morning?" he asked.
"On the food line," Alex said.
"Oh yeah, I heard about that," Kevin said. "One bag per customer, right?"
"Right," Alex said, savoring his lunch of rice and beans.
"How about if I join you next week?" Kevin said. "You could have my bag. My family doesn't need it."
"Are you sure?" Alex asked. "We have to get there as close to six as possible, then stand on line for four hours or so. And it can be dangerous. Riots. Shootings. It isn't fun."
"Fun's overrated," Kevin said. "Or hadn't you noticed."
Alex grinned. "I don't remember what fun feels like," he said. "So it's hard to tell. But we'd be very grateful for the extra bag next week."
"Gratitude's overrated, too," Kevin said. "Remember grilled cheese sandwiches?"
Alex nodded.
"Grilled cheese sandwiches were not overrated," Kevin said. "Neither were Playboy centerfolds. But that's about it, and I've still got the centerfolds."
"You must be a happy man," Alex said.
"I am what I am," Kevin said. "Same as I always was, only with a lot more time on my hands."
"Thank you," Alex said, thanking God and Chris Flynn while he was at it, for the peculiar gift of Kevin Daley's friendship.
Saturday, July 9
"Gin," Alex said, showing Julie his cards. "You owe me $3,870.12."
"I'm bored," Julie said. "What's happening in the world?"
"I don't know," Alex said. "What difference does it make anyway?"
"You can listen to the radio," she said. "When you use the earphones, I can't hear."
Alex hadn't turned on the radio since Queens died. He no longer cared what astronomers said, what the president said, what anyone said. All that mattered was food enough for him and Julie to survive another week. "I've stopped listening," he said. "We might need the batteries for something more important."
"Like what?" Julie asked.
Alex had no answer. "How about chess?" he asked. "I taught Bri how to play. I could teach you."
"But then you'll just beat me all the time," Julie said.
"I'll sacrifice a castle," Alex said. "A castle and a bishop and a couple of pawns, at least until you get the hang of it. Come on. It'll be something new for us to do."
"Will you get mad if I beat you?" Julie asked.
"No, of course not," Alex said. He knew he'd have to let Julie win occasionally or else she'd stop playing. And chess would give them both a way to kill time between their half cans of string beans and their half cans of corn.
Chapter 8
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Sunday, July 10
He and Julie spotted the man's body, curled up on the corner of Columbus and Eighty-eighth, at the same time.
"Is he asleep?" Julie asked. "Should we wake him?"
"I think he's dead," Alex said before his sister could walk over to check him out. "Leave him alone."
"Did he die on the street?" she asked. "How? Will anyone move him?"
"I don't know," Alex said. "Come on, Julie. We don't want to be late for Mass."
Tuesday, July 12
"The air tastes funny," Julie said as they walked to Central Park that morning. "It looks weird, too."
"Just cloudy," Alex said. The sky was a peculiar shade of gray. "Maybe a thunderstorm. What do you girls do if it rains when you're gardening?"
"I don't know," Julie said. "It hasn't rained yet."
"Don't stand under any trees," Alex said, trying to remember thunderstorm rules from his Fresh Air Fund summers.
"You really think it's going to rain?" she asked. "I know the sky's gray, but it doesn't look cloudy. It just looks..." She searched for the right word. "It looks dead," she said. "Like the sun died."
"That didn't happen," Alex said. "If the sun died, we'd be dead. Everybody instantly." He noticed a corpse lying in front of the dry cleaners, and another by the florist five doors down, rats nibbling on their faces. Alex wanted to cover Julie's eyes, but he knew he couldn't protect her forever.
"Do you think it's like this where Bri is?" Julie asked.
Alex shook his head. "She's in the country," he said. "Everything's green and pretty there. Why? Do you want to live in the country, too?"
"I want to stay with you," Julie said. "I don't care as long as we're together."
"Well, I'm not going anywhere," Alex said.
"Me neither," Julie said, linking her arm in his. "We're okay as long as the sun stays alive."
Friday, July 15
"How about those volcanoes," Kevin said as he and Alex stood on line, halfway down Amsterdam Avenue.
"What volcanoes?" Alex asked, although he knew he didn't want to hear the answer. He cursed himself for giving Kevin an opening to tell him what was happening in the rest of the world.
"Volcanoes erupting all over," Kevin said. "Millions dying."
Was that all? Alex made the sign of the cross and said a quick silent prayer for the newly dead souls. "Very sad," he muttered.
Kevin grinned. "That's what I like about you, Morales," he said. "Always thinking about others."
"What?" Alex grumbled. "They found a volcano in Central Park?"
"They might as well have," Kevin said. "Can you get your mind off of heaven and back on the Upper West Side? Look up and see the ashes."
"You mean the sky?" Alex asked. "It's gray. So what."
"So it's going to be gray for the rest of our lives," Kevin replied. "Which'll probably be over before I ever get laid."
"Well, we're talking decades, then," Alex said. "If you end up the last man on earth, you might stand a chance."
"With my luck, the last woman on earth'll be a nun," Kevin said. "Old, fat, and devout."
Alex laughed. "The air does taste funny," he admitted.
"That's the volcanoes," Kevin said.
"You're crazy," Alex said. "It's the crematoriums. They're working overtime now, all those extra bodies around. It's polluting the air."
"Great," Kevin said. "We're tasting dead body ash?"
Alex tried to decide which was better: dead body ash or volcanic ash. He voted for dead bodies. That way, at least, Bri would be all right.
"You really think it's volcanoes?" he asked, trying to sound sarcastic.
"That's what they're saying," Kevin replied. "Now that the moon's closer, the gravitational pull is stronger, so it's easier for the magma to get out. Volcanoes are erupting all over the place, even ones that were dormant, and the ash is going into the air currents everywhere. Here, Asia, Europe, maybe even Antarctica."
"Okay," Alex said. "So this is volcanic ash. How long before it leaves?"
"It doesn't," Kevin said.
There was a tone to his voice Alex had never heard before. "You're kidding, right?" he said. "You mean we're stuck with this ash for a few weeks. Great. All my shirts will end up gray. Father Mulrooney will love that."
"I'm just telling you what my father said," Kevin replied. "Volcanoes are erupting all over the world and the ash is cutting off sunlight. Sometimes in the past when there was a big volcanic eruption, the ash lasted for months or a year. Now with so many volcanoes, they think it'll be years before it clears up. If ever."
"No sunlight for years?" Alex said.
"Years," Kevin said. "But I think we'll all be dead before the sky clears up. Dad says it's going to get really cold really soon. Then crops'll die and everybody'll starve. It may take a while, but it's gonna happen."
"That can't be," Alex said. "Christ would never let that happen."
"Oh good," Kevin said. "I feel all comforted now."
"If you believe that," Alex said, "that we're all going to die anyway, why are you here? I mean right here, right now, standing on line for food you're not even going to eat?"
"Just racking up the brownie points for heaven," Kevin replied. "I figure being nice to you is my last best shot."
"If this is a joke, I'll kill you," Alex said. "You may think this is funny, but I have sisters I have to watch out for."
"Yeah, I know," Kevin said. "They're your ticket to heaven. And no, I'm not kidding. Ask Father Mulrooney. Ask anybody. You're the only person who doesn't seem to know." He turned to the woman standing on line behind him. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said. "But my friend doesn't believe volcanoes are erupting and throwing ash into our sky. Have you heard anything about that?"
The woman nodded. "It's been all over the news," she said. "They've been blowing up in the west. Lots of people died out there. I guess the worst one was in Yellowstone Park. The ash is so hot it starts fires, so people die that way, too. Fire and smoke and lava. We're lucky to be so far away, but I did hear the sky's that funny color because of it. I didn't know we were going to get cold, though, but now that you mention it, it has been chilly for July the past few days. And it was so hot up until now. The hottest summer I can remember, but I just figured that was a coincidence. I mean why would the moon make things hot?"
Alex tried to convince himself that this was a massive practical joke, that the woman who wouldn't shut up was Kevin's mother or his nanny or someone he hired for the sole purpose of scaring him.
"Not just the city," he said.
"No," Kevin said. "All over the world."
"And no more sunlight for months, maybe years?"
"Maybe ever," Kevin said.
Julie was right. Dammit, she was right. The sun had died, and with it, humanity died, also.
"No!" he said sharply. "I won't believe that."
"Okay," Kevin said, humoring him. "Maybe not ever."
"No, I mean that we're all going to die," Alex said. "All over the world there are Einsteins and Galileos. They're figuring things out." He paused as he remembered how certain he'd been that those great minds were figuring out how to get the moon back in place. Now they had volcanic ash to deal with.
"That's what I say!" the woman chimed in. "They're working on it right now. Sure, all those people out west died, and it's very sad and all that, but we've suffered, too, with the tidal waves and the cholera. The scientists are doing everything they can to make things better. We may not understand how—I mean, I flunked physics—but lots of people are solving all these problems. It's just a matter of time before things get back to normal."
Alex wasn't sure he knew what normal was anymore. But as long as he knew there was food enough for his sisters and himself, he wouldn't lose any sleep over volcanoes.
Tuesday, July 19
"I'm going to check the mail," Alex told Julie after school. The mailboxes were on the first floor, and for weeks Alex had avoided theirs, figuring the only mail the
y could possibly get was bills he didn't know how to pay. But since the sister had told him they'd be sending a schedule for phone calls to the convent, Alex had checked the mailbox daily, always finding it empty.
But today there were two postcards. "What?" Julie demanded. "What do they say?"
"This one's from Carlos!" Alex said. "No date. It just says, 'I'm all right. We're on our way to Texas.' He turned it over and saw a June 14 postmark. Over a month ago.
"Let me see," Julie demanded, and he handed her the postcard. "Do you think he's there? Is the other postcard from him?"
But it wasn't. It was from the convent, and it said, "Family members may call Briana Morales on Thursday, July 14, at 4:00 PM."
"Great," Alex said. "We were supposed to call Bri last week."
"But the postcard only got here today," Julie said.
"Yeah, I noticed," he snapped. "Let's go home and see if we can reach her now."
They went down the stairwell and entered the apartment. It was cold in there, not bone-chilling cold, but dank and lifeless. The sunlight had been faint for over a week, and Julie worried about her vegetables.
Alex walked over to the phone and was pleased to hear a dial tone. It might not be Thursday, July 14, but at least it was close to 4:00 PM. He dialed the number for the convent.
"Notburga Farms."
"Yes, this is Alex Morales," he said. "My sister Briana is staying there. I just got in the mail today a postcard saying I could call her last Thursday. I'd like to speak to her now."
"I'm sorry," the woman on the other end said. "If your appointment was to call her last Thursday, you needed to call her then. We'll send you another postcard to tell you the next time you can talk with your sister."
"No," Alex said sharply. "That's unacceptable. You're the ones who sent the postcard and you must have known how unreliable the mail is. I insist on speaking with my sister."
"The girls are all doing chores right now," the woman said. "Most likely Briana is in the stables. That's why we sent out appointment cards."