But the thought of climbing the twelve flights just to ram cold rice and beans into his mouth was even worse. He'd manage. He had no choice.
The shovel and bag of rock salt were right where he remembered. Of all Papi's janitorial obligations, this was the one he liked the least, so Carlos and Alex had done the brunt of the shoveling. It had snowed a lot the previous winter; Alex could remember a half dozen mornings when Papi woke him before dawn so he could get the shoveling done before the people in the building got up. Papi gave him hell if he left any snow on the sidewalk, even though scores of people would walk over it and it would melt before noon.
He tried carrying both the shovel and the twenty-pound bag of rock salt, but couldn't manage it. So he left the bag of rock salt in the stairwell, and took the shovel upstairs. He could hear Papi laughing at him for his weakness, and he used his anger and resentment to give him the energy he needed to clear the snow from in front of the door.
The work was brutal. It was a heavy snow, and with the ice intermixed, every shovelful took all his strength to lift and carry. It didn't help that twice as he flung the snow onto a pile of decomposing bodies, he found he was also tossing rats that had frozen in the snowfall. After a few minutes he realized he needed to stop just to catch his breath every single time he shoveled. He really was blanducho, the way Papi always said.
After half an hour he'd cleared enough space in front of the door that he could stand outside and survey what remained to be done. Not that much really, he decided. Just shovel from the building to the street, then shovel West Eighty-eighth down to West End, then West End to Columbus Circle, and over to Eighth Avenue, and then down Eighth to Forty-second Street and Port Authority. Probably not even that much. If the powerful people had had the good sense to leave some other people around to do the cleaning for them, from Columbus Circle down was probably clear of snow. He'd only have to shovel for a mile and a half. Piece of cake for a level twelve.
He still had no idea how he could get Bri from Eighty-eighth Street downtown. He doubted she'd have the strength to walk as far as Broadway.
Alex began shoveling from the building to the street, not knowing what else to do. He was accustomed to the silence now, but except for the wind whipping around, things seemed even quieter than they had been just two days before. The whole block was deserted, he realized. He, Bri, and Julie seemed to be the only people still alive on West Eighty-eighth. When they left, there'd be nobody.
He stood for a moment, resting against the shovel. He never should have let Bri go to the convent. That was the first mistake. If he hadn't sent her away, she would have gone with Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Lorraine, and for all he knew, she never would have become asthmatic. If he'd known Bri was someplace safe, he could have looked for a place for Julie to go. It might not have been with la familia, but things hadn't been that desperate in June, and there would have been somebody trustworthy who'd have agreed to take her and protect her.
And if he hadn't had his sisters tying him down, he could have left New York and tried his luck elsewhere. Maybe he could have tracked down Carlos and joined the Marines. Carlos was probably someplace warm, eating three meals a day and sleeping in a real bed. That was the life.
He felt like screaming. Every single thing he'd done had been wrong, and his sisters' lives were at risk because of him.
He got on his knees, not caring that the icy wetness seeped through his pants legs, and begged for God's mercy for his sisters.
"Alex?"
He looked up and saw Julie standing in the doorway.
"What?" he said.
"Bri told me to get you," she said. "She was worried."
He stood up, feeling like a fool. "Tell her I'm fine," he said. "I'll be upstairs in a few minutes. I have to finish shoveling the sidewalk."
"You don't have to," Julie asked. "There's no one here except us."
"I know," Alex said. "But Papi would expect me to."
Chapter 16
Monday, December 5
Alex decided he'd give Kevin fifteen minutes to show before going back inside. If the apartment had any kind of heat, he would have stood by the front door of his building for five, but since it was just marginally warmer indoors, he opted for fifteen.
He would have needed only the five-minute deadline. Kevin showed up at 7:03.
"You're crazy, you know that," Alex said. "How'd you even manage to get here?"
"It wasn't that bad," Kevin replied. "They've done some shoveling and plowing in my neighborhood." He looked at the sidewalk in front of Alex's building. "Nice job," he said. "You pay a kid to do it?"
"I wish," Alex said. "You really think we're going to find anything?"
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," Kevin said. "The pickings should be really good. Lots of new bodies by the park. Some suicides; the storm was just too much for them, I guess. And people are dropping like flies. One of the doctors in our DRU says there's a mean flu bug going around."
"Great," Alex said. "Just what we need." Kevin laughed. "We're lucky it's not plague," he said. "Harvey says there's an uptick in the market for jewelry. So we need to start taking wedding rings and engagement rings and earrings and anything else we can find. I guess they realized nobody's going to be mining for a while."
Alex hated taking wedding rings off bodies, but they needed food for one more week. He'd leave a note for Kevin when they left so he wouldn't worry. He'd be gone soon enough himself, maybe even to the same town as Alex.
Alex followed the footsteps Kevin had made going to his apartment. They were the only footprints in the snow. If there were still people living on the Upper West Side, they hadn't left their apartments since Saturday.
It was hard walking and the boys kept mostly to themselves as they walked east. The city would have been beautiful if the snow were white. But everything was corpse gray. No matter where Alex ended up, he wasn't going to miss New York. He'd be sorry to leave Kevin and Vincent de Paul and St. Margaret's and even Father Mulrooney, but that was it. Anyplace would be better than this.
He thought about Chris Flynn in South Carolina. Maybe it was warm there, or at least warmer. If there were still colleges, Chris would be sure to find one. A year ago, it would have driven him crazy to think of Chris getting into a good school somewhere while he didn't even know if he'd be going to college. Now, what difference did it make.
"Do you ever think about Chris Flynn?" he asked Kevin.
"Muhuhmhm," Kevin said. He'd wrapped his scarf around his mouth, and between that and the wind howling down Central Park West, it was impossible to understand what he was saying.
Not that it mattered. Chris had his life and Kevin had his. The only important thing was getting Alex's sisters and himself to a place of safety.
He looked ahead and thought he saw the glint of a diamond about a block away. Maybe a fluicide, he thought, and he began to laugh. He trudged ahead, trying to maintain traction on the ice-crusted snow. If a ten-thousand-dollar lottery ticket could buy a can of pineapple, who knew what a diamond ring was worth.
Alex wasn't sure what caught his attention first, the odd crackling noise or the funny sound Kevin made or even the silence that followed. But something made him stop and turn around.
He wished he hadn't. He wished he'd kept on trudging toward the diamond ring that might have brought his family a can of sliced peaches. He wished he'd kept on walking until he'd walked out of New York City altogether to someplace warm and safe.
Instead he turned around and saw Kevin lying on the sidewalk, an ice-laden tree limb across his neck, pinning him down.
Alex retraced his steps in the snow. Kevin was lying facedown, and Alex's first thought was that he would suffocate in the snow. He tried lifting the branch off him, but it was too large and too heavy with snow and ice. Alex looked up and could see the fresh torn gap in the tree where the limb had fallen from.
"Help!" Alex screamed. "Someone help me!"
But of course no one did. No one had helped Jul
ie when she'd cried out a few weeks before. New York was more dead than alive, and those people who were still around didn't help anyone but themselves.
Kevin's head was twisted and Alex could see his right eye, looking more startled than scared or dead. He pulled off his gloves and tried to find Kevin's pulse. Then he decided that was a waste of time; what he needed to do was get Kevin out from under the branch. If he couldn't lift it, he'd tunnel Kevin out. Without even bothering to put his glove back on, he began digging the icy snow under Kevin's head and under the tree branch, so he could pull Kevin out. Kevin wasn't breathing, and Alex realized he needed to unwrap the scarf around Kevin's mouth. It was caught in the branch, and Alex had to yank at it, making Kevin's head jerk. Alex screamed in horror, and that was when he knew the only friend he'd ever really had was dead. If Kevin had been alive, even if his life were just a flicker, he would have laughed at scaring Alex so effectively.
But Alex kept digging. Eventually he created a pocket big enough to wiggle Kevin out from under the limb. He grabbed under Kevin's arms and pulled. It took more strength than he knew he had, but Kevin was finally freed.
Alex's heart was racing, but he didn't know if it was from the exertion or from seeing Kevin lying there. It didn't matter. He turned Kevin over so he was lying flat on his back.
He felt for a pulse again. He put his ear next to Kevin's mouth. He pounded on Kevin's chest in some vague imitation of CPR.
"Wake up!" he screamed at Kevin. "Make him wake up!" he screamed at God.
Kevin's eyes stared at the sky. His mouth was half twisted, almost smiling—the red of the blood that had dripped out of his nose and mouth the only color left in New York.
Please, God, Alex prayed. Cherish this soul. He didn't mean half the things he said.
With Kevin staring heavenward, Alex pulled off his watch so he could give it to Kevin's parents. Then Alex realized he had no idea where Kevin's parents were. He didn't know the address of their DRU, and he didn't know where Daley Trucking was located.
It seemed unlikely that Kevin would have carried ID on him, let alone up-to-the-minute ID, but Alex had to make sure. Almost apologetically, he went through Kevin's pockets. All he found was the gun.
Alex pulled it out. He recognized it right away, from that first day they'd gone body shopping. Funny to think Kevin carried it around and Alex hadn't known. He knew more about Kevin than about almost anyone else in his life, but apparently he hadn't known nearly as much as he thought he had.
Alex took off his other glove, then fumbled around trying to unclasp the cross he always wore around his neck. He was shaking so hard it took a minute or more before he could undo it, but when he did, he kissed it, then put it over Kevin's heart. Then he closed his friend's eyes.
At some point Kevin's parents would worry about him, he realized, as he walked toward the diamond ring and the body wearing it. Maybe they knew where Alex lived and maybe they didn't, but it was unlikely they knew which apartment the Morales family had taken over. Most likely they'd check at Vincent de Paul to see if Kevin had shown up for school.
Alex twisted the diamond ring off the dead woman's finger. He'd take Kevin's watch to school and give it to Father Mulrooney, he decided. It was a priest's job to comfort a family. Alex's job was to keep his sisters alive and safe.
With the ring and the gun and the watch in his pocket, Alex began the long journey back uptown. Maybe, he thought, the diamond ring and the gun could buy Bri a safe way to get to the convoy. Kevin would like that.
Tuesday, December 6
"I have some very sad news to convey," Father Mulrooney informed the handful of boys that made up the student body of St. Vincent de Paul Academy.
Alex waited for the announcement of Kevin's death. When he'd told the priest about Kevin the day before, Father Mulrooney had seemed genuinely saddened.
"Mr. Kim has died," Father Mulrooney said instead. "Most unexpectedly. His death will be profoundly felt in our community."
Mr. Kim had taught science with enthusiasm if not much scholarship. Alex had liked him well enough, but he wouldn't have been someone he'd miss once he and his sisters were gone.
Still, it was odd to hear he'd died. Another fluicide, he guessed.
Wednesday, December 7
"I need something from you," Alex said to Harvey. "I'm willing to barter."
"Anything for a friend of Kevin's," Harvey replied. "Funny, I haven't seen him the past couple of days."
Alex shrugged. "I need a sled," he said.
Harvey laughed. "Want a dog team to go along with that?" he asked.
"Just a regular sled," Alex said. "But I've got to be able to pull it. Good-sized, too, not a little kiddie one."
Harvey looked thoughtful. "I might be able to do that," he said. "When do you need it?"
"As soon as possible," Alex said. He only wished he'd thought of a sled earlier in the week. But Kevin's death had made it hard for him to think about much of anything. Or maybe he was just too hungry these days to think and Kevin's death was merely an excuse. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except figuring out a way of getting Bri downtown, and a sled seemed to make the most sense.
"You said you had something to barter," Harvey said. "A sled's a big-ticket item. It ain't no can of green peas. Whatcha got?"
Alex pulled out the diamond ring and Kevin's gun. "How's this?" he asked.
"Pretty impressive," Harvey said. "I like the gun. Always a market for those. You been holdin' out on me, kid? You got any more merchandise like that?"
Alex thought about the last four cans of Papi's beer that he'd been saving for an emergency. "Nothing this good," he said. "I really need that sled, Harvey."
"Tell you what," Harvey said. "You come by tomorrow morning. Either I'll have the sled or I won't, but I'll know by then. You got anything else for me today?"
Alex looked at the cans of spinach on the shelf behind the counter.
"I don't suppose I could have some spinach on account," he said.
"On accounta what?" Harvey asked, then burst out laughing. "Sorry, kid. Cash and carry. No more handouts just because I like someone."
Alex nodded. "Just thought I'd ask," he said.
"Never hurts to ask," Harvey said. "See you in the morning. Maybe I'll have that sled for you. And who knows. Maybe I'll throw in a can of that spinach while I'm at it."
Thursday, December 8
Harvey had outdone himself, Alex thought as he carried the sled into his old basement apartment. The sled was close to perfect. It was large enough for Bri to sit on comfortably and it had footrests so she could shift her weight around during the long trip to Port Authority. It was heavy plastic, with runners high enough that he wouldn't have to worry about Bri getting wet from the snow. Its only drawback was its single pull rope, which meant he'd have to do the dragging by himself. But he and Julie probably wouldn't have been able to pull in unison anyway.
It felt strange unlocking the door to the basement apartment. Alex hadn't been there since the move to 12B, but it made no sense to carry the sled upstairs when they'd be using it in just a few days. There'd been no electricity, not even on weekdays, since the snowstorm. Alex couldn't wait to get out.
Everything smelled damp and musty. It was hard to believe they'd all lived there and never noticed that. We were mole people, he thought. In a few days, though, they'd be the elite.
He went to Mami's bedroom and pulled down the boxes from her closet shelf. It was hard to see anything, since so little natural light came in and he hadn't thought to bring a flashlight or candles with him. But eventually he found their birth certificates and baptismal certificates.
Alex looked through the rest of the apartment, in case there was anything there they needed to take with them. On the kitchen counter by the phone was the note he'd left saying they'd moved to 12B. He wasn't sure what to do about it. There seemed to be no point in writing a new note, since he didn't know where they'd be going.
Once Bri and Julie were sett
led and safe, he'd somehow locate Carlos and tell him where the girls were. Mami or Papi could find him also, if they ever came back. In case anyone showed up before Monday, Alex left the note. He gave his home one more look. He still remembered moving there when he was five. He'd gone outside to play with some kids and he'd said something in Spanish. The kids had all laughed at him and he'd run back to Mami, crying.
"Here you speak English," she said to him. "No more Spanish."
That had been easy enough; he'd grown up hearing both. But he never tried to play with the neighborhood kids after that. Carlos had, no problem. But Alex always felt the kids looked down on him. They were all Danny O'Briens.
But in five days he'd become a Danny O'Brien. It was like something out of a Dickens novel, he thought. Foundling discovers he's really a long-lost millionaire. Of course he wasn't a foundling or a millionaire, but it was the same basic concept. And he'd earned this trip up the social ladder through his hard work at Vincent de Paul. Mr. Flynn wouldn't have given the passes to just anybody. It wasn't an act of charity. It was an act of respect.
Papi would be proud of me, he thought. I've taken care of my sisters. I've been a man.
Friday, December 9
He'd woken Julie and made her go on the food line with him. He wished he didn't have to, but there was no food in the house and if they were going to make it through the weekend, they needed every can they could get.
The line seemed safe enough, though; there were so few people on it. Alex made sure Julie stood by his side for the couple of hours they waited. He guessed the temperature had fallen below zero. Hell won't be hot, he thought. It'll be cold like this.
"Where's Kevin?" Julie finally asked.
He knew she would ask, but that didn't make it easier. "He's dead," he replied.
"Are you sure?" Julie asked. "Maybe he's just gone."
"I was there," Alex said. "He's dead all right."