Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
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, because 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.