Page 38

chapter thirty-seven

Tuck

Day Sixteen

I pulled the car behind a furniture store in a strip mall that had obviously been looted, front windows broken and glass sparkling in the morning sun. I parked behind two dumpsters that looked mostly empty and shut the engine off. “We’ll come back for it if we can,” I told Emily, pocketing the key.

“What if someone hotwires it?”

“They might. But I think it’s safer leaving it here than attempting to drive it into the city.”

We took our backpacks from the trunk, stuffing them with the remaining provisions and then rounding the building. We looked out to the city beyond, or what we could see of it, anyway, from where we stood. Smoke rose from several spots, whether from fires that had broken out naturally for one reason or another, or from people who’d set them, I had no way to know. A set of pops met our ears and Emily looked at me in alarm. “Gunfire?”

Probably. “Let’s go this way,” I said, leading her in the opposite direction, away from the sounds. A distant human wail rose up, and then a few more.

Emily’s eyes met mine, and my guts cramped. I fucking hated walking her into what I knew very well would be a dangerous landscape, and yet, what choice was there? I couldn’t drive into a scorching wildfire burning out of control, one that, in the absence of water or planes to drop fire retardant, would burn indefinitely. I wouldn’t drive around randomly, either running out of fuel or encountering one roadblock after another until so many popped up that we were trapped.

My choices were to head out into the desert, driving as far as a car could go in terrain like that and scavenge for food and water, hopeful that we’d find enough not to starve. Or we could make our way to my uncle’s house, hopeful that we could stock up on provisions there and—with him—begin the journey on foot to Emily’s parents.

Decisions needed to be made quickly at this point because everything was devolving very rapidly now and what was already bad would only get worse from here.

We walked through an industrial area, many of the buildings burned out, any businesses that had once operated here looted of everything. We stuck our heads in a Dollar General, the shelves utterly barren, and what looked like blood smeared across the floors. Next door, a Department of Motor Vehicles sat vacant, chairs overturned, and counters toppled. I assumed there’d been computers and phones present, but they were gone now and why anyone would take the time to lug those things away considering the circumstances was beyond me. Perhaps, in some cases, it was just human nature to take and that’s what had happened here.

We continued on. This area of town had been completely stripped. Even the cars sitting in the streets here had been emptied, doors, glove boxes, and trunks standing open, and even some of the engines missing. No wonder very few people wandered the streets and the ones that did, averted their gazes and turned quickly away. They knew at this point that information and help wasn’t coming and that other people only represented danger.

“There’s no smog,” Emily murmured as we came to the top of a hill with a better view of the city. I’d been so focused on looking down every block and skirting doorways, that I hadn’t noticed the sky. But I looked up briefly now and noticed she was right. Even despite the massive fire that burned miles away, the brown cloud that typically coated Los Angeles in a dirty haze was gone.

But before I could comment, a smell rose up and both Emily and I put our hands over our noses. Emily coughed, tilting her head toward me. “Dead bodies,” she said, both of us familiar with the putrid scent by now.

And when we turned the corner, we saw why. What had once been a tent city of homeless people was now a pile of rotting corpses. “Oh God,” Emily said, turning her face into my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her and led her in the opposite direction.

A man stood on a street corner, one hand raised, the other clutching a Bible as a group of people stood before him. The people started swaying as the man’s voice boomed, “And there shall be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars; and upon the earth distress of nations, with perplexity; the sea and the waves roaring; men’s hearts failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the earth: for the powers of heaven shall be shaken.”

His voice faded as we moved on, and the screams and wails we’d heard in the distance grew closer. The occasional noise of an engine revving could be heard, and dog howls rose into the crystal sky.

It appeared that lots of people had already left.

But many had also stayed.

I’d heard once—somewhere—that on any given day, New York City had less than a week’s worth of food for every man, woman, and child. If the same was true of other major metropolitan areas, Los Angeles had run dry a week and a half before. But even that was generous considering many would horde and leave none for others. In some places, people had gone hungry on day one and stores that sold groceries had been stripped bare within a couple days, if not hours.

As we walked, we discussed in low tones the best route to take to my uncle’s house in Lynwood. From where we were, it would take about three hours to walk, and though I wanted to attempt jogging to get there more quickly, I also knew caution was key.

“We could try to make it to my condo instead,” Emily said. “I have food there.”

“My uncle’s house is closer,” I said, glancing toward the west where Emily lived. It was also where the majority of the smoke was rising from, and where I could hear engines gunning. My best guess was that it’d been taken over. “Plus, you don’t have the keys to your condo, and we can’t scale the building.”

“It’s all electronic,” she murmured. “I don’t know if that means it’s wide-open, or inaccessible.”

“Either way, we’d be shit out of luck.”

We put our hands over our noses again as another block of bodies stretched before us. Goddammit, these poor people. They’d lived desperate lives on the streets, and then been the first ones left to die. Next to me, Emily swiped her eye and looked away. “What’d they die from?” she asked.

“Most lack of water, probably. Some needed medication. Violence. No way to tell.”

The farther we walked, the more people we saw, some rooting through overflowing trash cans of food that—if there was any there—would be long-rotted by now. Just like Hosea had said, disease was going to spread quickly in a landscape like this, if it wasn’t already. Awful scents of death and garbage and pungent, smoldering fires assaulted our noses and the sound of children and babies crying made us both wince.

“Tuck, look,” Emily said, grabbing my arm as she stopped and pointed to the end of a wide street. I stared, taking a moment to make sense of what I saw. It was a pile of wreckage sitting in the middle of the road, a crumpled helicopter with a news logo barely visible that had obviously crashed onto the tops of several cars.

“Jesus,” I muttered, wondering again how many aircraft had been in the sky when the solar flare hit and whether all of them had crash-landed like ours had. How many survivors were there and how many hadn’t had pilots as good as ours?

We walked through a neighborhood of small family homes, where there were red and blue X ’s on many of the doors. I remembered back to news footage I’d seen of Hurricane Katrina and the houses with the X ’s spray-painted on them indicating a dead body was inside and wondered if that was the case here too. But authorities had marked the houses then; there were no authorities anywhere in sight now.

A man walked by us with a dead seagull in his hands and when I turned toward him to ask about the x ’s, he pulled out a knife as he whipped the dead bird behind him and screamed, “Get back!”

I raised one hand and grabbed Emily’s arm with the other. “We don’t want your bird,” I said. “I was just wondering why there are x ’s on the doors.”

The man blew out a rattly breath and took another step back, still holding the seagull behind him, which I assumed he was planning on eating. “Gangs,” he said. “Turf wars. Downtown is the worst. They’ve already taken over hotels and restaurants. Those who fought back died. They control the streets and the food down there. Some of the smaller gangs are laying claim to residential areas. No homes are safe.” He looked up the street as though thinking of his own home and then mumbled, “I gotta go. Good luck.”

My heart had dropped as he’d spoken. Gangs were staking claim to homes? Whole neighborhoods?

I heard the rumble of an engine and turned toward the sound. The man stopped and looked back at us. “If you have anything of value on you, I’d hide,” he said, and then he darted between two houses and disappeared.

Anything of value. That phrase had recently taken on a whole new meaning.

I pulled Emily onto a porch on the other side of the street, and we ducked behind the railing, our eyes meeting as the rumble grew louder. She blinked, features contorted with alarm as she grabbed my hand.

The vehicle passed by slowly, the sounds of male chatter accompanying the growl of the car. I raised my head a bare inch and peeked over the wooden barrier we were kneeling behind. A red classic convertible Ferrari was just rounding the corner, men holding guns sitting on the tops of the seats on both sides, their heads turning as they surveyed the area. One of the men tossed his cigarette right before another man said, “We’ve been through here. Let’s go.” And the car made a sudden turn, tires squealing as they disappeared around a corner.

“What the hell?” Emily breathed.

“The gangs that man just mentioned. Probably out looking for food and water,” I said. Other than the cars and weapons they obviously already had, that was what was of value now.

We remained behind the railing for several more minutes, the roar of the car receding, before we left the porch. I looked over my shoulder and swore I saw the movement of a curtain. Someone had watched us as we’d taken cover on their porch. A shiver snaked down my spine. I needed to be more careful. Stay sharp, Mattice , I could hear Hosea saying, the same advice he’d given me in prison, the reminder that had helped keep me from getting regular beatdowns. And worse.

Although if what the man in the car had said was true, they’d been through here already which had to mean these homes were stripped of sustenance. And the man clutching the dead bird suddenly made much more sense.

We started walking, and Emily took my hand. “Are there gangs in your uncle’s neighborhood?” she asked. But she must have figured there were after the stories I’d told her about who I’d fallen in with when I’d moved here. I just nodded.

“Gangs will want to take over the areas that have the most resources though, right?” she asked. “Once the police aren’t an issue and alarms no longer work, they’ll target the wealthy.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “The power structure has flipped. But still, anyone who has anything at all is a target at a time like this.”

“Even that man with the bird,” Emily murmured.

On the outskirts of that neighborhood, the smell of death rose again, so strong and abhorrent that we were both forced to take an item of clothing from our backpacks and cover our faces. “It’s a hospital,” Emily said, her voice muffled. “Oh God, Tuck, I can’t. We have to go around.”

I took her arm and pulled her toward another street so that we could round the area and come out on the other side. I looked over my shoulder once when we got to the higher ground of the other block, and caught sight of a huge hole to the side of the building where bodies were piled. I swallowed down the vomit that rose in my throat and looked away, walking faster and pulling Emily with me. They’d created a mass grave beside the hospital for all the people they couldn’t save. But what else were they going to do? There was no one to pick up the bodies, certainly no one who was going to expend energy digging graves. Maybe some of the families had done that somehow, but most simply wouldn’t be able to. Jesus fucking Christ.

I had this intense urge to pull Emily somewhere and curl my body around her, to protect her from the sights and sounds and smells and anything that might threaten her in this hellscape, of which the possibilities were countless. But we only had a little ways to go, and so we moved forward, at a faster clip this time.

It was late afternoon when we finally entered the neighborhood where my uncle had taken me in when I was just a kid. The streets were trashed, corpses lying here and there. We looked at them vacantly, even if Emily still let out a small moan each time we came upon one. They no longer made us jump or cringe and that was a horror in itself.

“Hey, hello,” a man said, coming out of an alleyway and rushing toward us. I pulled Emily and jumped back, holding my hand out, demanding he halt.

He stopped, holding his hand out as well. “I don’t mean any harm. I don’t.” The last word emerged on a squeak, and he drew in a shaky breath as though holding back tears. “My wife and I got a baby, man. A six-month-old. Her formula ran out a week ago. There’s none anywhere. No milk, nothing. We… Shit. Do you know anyone who has a baby? Who nurses? Please.”

“I’m sorry. No.”

The man hung his head, tears sliding down his cheeks and my gut wrenched for this father. “Tuck,” Emily said, her voice barely more than a whisper. And I knew what she was asking, or suggesting, or giving permission for without saying more than that. I let out a slow breath, feeling both relief and the anxiety of putting someone before ourselves. It wasn’t wise, and yet, we had hope, and a plan, and this man obviously did not.

“Come on,” I muttered, gesturing for him to follow me into the privacy of the alley. “Do you have water?” I asked, be cause if he didn’t, what I was going to give him wouldn’t help. They’d all die anyway.

“Y-yes. We filled up our tub and all the sinks.” I swung my backpack off my shoulder and removed two cans of condensed milk Emily and I had taken from the Garcias for the protein and the fat. I moved close and slipped the cans to the man and he gasped softly and grabbed for them, his eyes meeting mine.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” More tears slid down his cheeks and he looked stricken with shock.

I leaned in closer. “Mix it with water to make it last longer. Then check veterinary offices. The pet food will be gone, but there might be some puppy or kitten formula. I’d go to the zoo as well and check there for the same. Do it quickly, tomorrow morning. And then get the hell out of LA. Bring any weapons you have. You might be able to trade a gun for some milk at a farm. It’s probably the only thing valuable enough to trade with other than food.”

The man was bobbing his head, his face wet with tears. “Thank you, thank you.” It seemed like the only thing he could manage.

“Go,” I said. “Now. Hide that and hide it well.”

He stuffed it under his jacket and then put his hands in his pockets, giving us one last look as if we were visions that might disappear any moment, and then turned and walked quickly back down the alley.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” I muttered.

Emily smiled gently. “I know,” she said. “But sometimes… I don’t know, it feels like people are sent right to you. And we received more than our fair share of goodness too.”

I took her in, my heart expanding. I’d thought her selfish and vacuous at one point and been completely wrong. Or…if she’d begun traveling down that road because of the people surrounding her and the life she lived, this situation had exposed the deeper parts of her. The girl I remembered who cried when one of the barn cat’s kittens died, the one who’d tried to love me when I’d been unlovable. I took her face in my hands and risked a moment on this dangerous street to kiss her lips. It felt vital. It felt like it might be one of the only things powerful enough to give us the strength to continue on.

We exited the alley and kept walking, staying as far away from the people we saw on the streets as possible. We couldn’t say yes to anyone asking for food again. To do so would jeopardize Emily more than I was willing to.

I couldn’t help remembering the day we’d walked into Silver Creek two weeks and a million years ago. Then, we’d been worried, lost, but had been taken into a town just beginning to enact a plan of action. LA was already mostly hollowed out, the flood of people who’d called this city home streaming into the countryside. For a while anyway. I wondered how long it would take before most of those people were dead. Because the country had resources, but only so many. And we’d arrived at the point where few were willing to share.

We turned the corner onto my uncle’s street and my heart sunk when I saw all red x ’s on the doors. “Fuck,” I breathed as we stopped in front of the chain-link fence. I grasped its handle, knowing the metallic scent it would leave on my palm. I’d entered this gate when I was seventeen years old, a scowl on my face and a broken heart. And he’d been standing on the porch, his shoulder leaned against the post holding up the small overhang, arms crossed and looking at me like he had my number. And he did. He’d watched me self-destruct and he might have been disappointed, but he’d never seemed surprised.

Because he’d been there.

But the x on his door told me he might not be anymore.

How will I ever find you now?

Still, I had to see. I had to know for sure.

“I need you to crouch down behind that fence, Emily,” I said, turning to the wooden fence across the way that led to a park that was as old and broken down as it’d been when I’d lived here. Despite that, kids had played there, but it was empty now.

“No, I want—”

“I don’t know if the x on the door means a death occurred or that gang members took this house over. If they did claim it, it might mean they did it randomly, but it also might mean they’re still in there. Please.”

Her eyes held mine for a moment, and whatever she saw there convinced her to nod and head for the fence. I watched as she ducked behind it and then I turned back to the house, opened the gate, and then walked up the short concrete walkway to the front door. I knocked, loudly enough that anyone inside could hear me, but not so loud that it echoed down the block and might attract attention. This entire street looked empty, but who knew.

When no one answered my second knock either, I tried the handle. It turned in my palm and I pushed the door open. The smell hit me immediately and my knees almost buckled at what it told me even before I stepped inside and saw my uncle’s body in the recliner. A moan made its way up my throat, and I walked farther inside, putting a hand against the wall to brace myself for a moment. “Oh Jesus.”

If I’d been here…

But no, then I wouldn’t have been with Emily. And to think of her in that field alone with Charlie was unthinkable. Still, guilt was a vise, tightening around my heart. He’d died alone.

I pulled in a breath as I brought my eyes to my uncle’s body again, noting the gunshot wound in his chest. There was no weapon in his hands, but I knew there had been. He’d fought to the end, I was sure, even if whoever had come in had had the bigger gun and gotten off the first shot. I held my breath and then approached his body and removed the cross necklace and put it in my pocket. “Thank you,” I said. “I wish I’d told you sooner. Thank you for saving me. And I’m sorry.”

I straightened my spine, stuffing down the sorrow that ripped through me like a thunderstorm. There was no time for that now. I did a quick search of his kitchen, but it’d been completely stripped of food and water.

There was nothing here.

When I exited the house, Emily was standing at the gate. “I told you to stay hidden.”

“I was worried,” she said, her gaze moving over my features, her brow creasing. “Are you okay? Is he—”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh, Tuck. I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

“Nothing. But there’s one more house I have to check. It’s a few streets over.”

My guts burned, and my heart felt like it was lodged in my throat. So much savagery here. So many good people had died simply because they weren’t willing—or were unable—to flee. And there’d been no one to help them fight. Out on the road with Emily, I’d begun to believe that maybe I could put my past behind me and reach for my own happiness. But being on this street was a reminder that I still owed a debt, and I’d barely made a dent.