Steal Tomorrow

By Ann M. Pino

© Copyright by the author 2008

“The question is not whether we will die, but how we will live.”

– JOAN BORYSENKO

Chapter One

Cassie stood in the devastation of the ransacked kitchen. Others had been here before her — young people who were just as hungry, just as desperate. Even the spice rack was empty, a bad sign, since it meant someone was hungry enough to consider cloves and dill weed food.

On the other side of the room, her friend Leila admired a waffle iron. “I’d kill for a waffle,” she said, rubbing away the dust and examining her warped reflection in the aluminum.

“I say we try Quail Heights. There’s nothing else in this neighborhood.”

“But there’s gangs on the other side of Callaway Road.”

“There’s gangs here, too.”

“But our gangs know us.” Leila examined her rings, avoiding Cassie’s eyes. “Just because we’re safe here on our own doesn’t mean we wouldn’t need to join a group somewhere else. It might be worse in other parts of town.”

Cassie knew her friend was right. They had tried joining a group before, but the violence of the other young people scared her. They had been without food for two days now, though, and it had been over a week since they last ate anything that quelled their hunger for long. “I’m sure they’re just ordinary kids like us,” Cassie said, pretending an optimism she didn’t feel. “Some of our friends from school are probably still there.”

Leila shook her head, more out of worry than refusal. “I’m going to check the closets. Maybe I’ll find something good to wear.”

While her friend headed toward the back of the house, Cassie went into the garage. In some houses, she had gotten lucky, stumbling upon a cache of MREs or freeze-dried camp food. Such items were usually overlooked by other foragers, most of whom hadn’t had the advantage of growing up with an outdoorsy father and an ex-Mormon mother who believed in storing food for emergencies. Cassie sometimes wondered if her parents would’ve survived had they not been among the first to catch the disease. Her family owned a wilderness retreat and had the skills and supplies to survive, had they been able to get there before the roadblocks went up and the virus worked its way into their genes.

Grief and anger were luxuries Cassie couldn’t afford if she was to make good on her promise that she would survive this thing. Now that the power plants, pumping stations and transportation systems had failed, foraging for food and medicine was all that mattered. She searched the dusty garage, finding lawn chairs and a croquet set, a broken exercise bike and a freezer she didn’t dare open since anything in it would have certainly rotted. Nothing suggested the former inhabitants knew anything more about the outdoors than what could be discovered in their own back yard. There was no hoarded camp food here.

The door opened. In a panic, Cassie reached for the canister of bear repellent at her hip, but it was only Leila.

“Size fourteen. The woman who lived here was a cow.”

It occurred to Cassie to point out that Leila’s mother had worn a size fourteen and Leila’s nipped-in waist and curves were the result of their recent privations and not to any lack of pre-pandemic pizza. Instead, she took in her friend’s freshly painted lips and red silk scarf. “Who are you dressing up for? The rats?”

Leila shook her head, and a pair of long earrings jingled. “Maybe in Quail Heights, I’ll find me a boyfriend who has a stash of decent food.”

“And maybe there’s an Easter Bunny,” Cassie said. “We’ll wake up and this will have all been a nightmare.”

* * *

Getting to Quail Heights had been easy in the old days, just a short car trip away. But neither girl had gas for their families’ cars any more, having used it all driving the city for food and medicine in the early days of the Telo. There were no more gasoline deliveries to the gas stations, and they would have done little good anyway, since the pumps needed electricity. Some of the more powerful gangs had hoarded cans of fuel and drove the streets looking for food, liquor and trouble. But most kids went on foot or bicycle.

Cassie and Leila preferred to walk, since it was easier to carry weapons and trade goods that way.

Abandoned vehicles were just one of the hazards of Callaway Road, paling in comparison to packs of stray dogs and semi-feral children hiding in abandoned shops, watching passersby with suspicious eyes. In the burnt-over remains of a strip center, Cassie and Leila saw a gang of younger children poking in the rubble as if some useful treasure might be found in the ruins. A wild-haired boy with a pistol on his hip glared at the girls, daring them to warn him of danger. Leila tightened her grip on her baseball bat, and Cassie eased a hand toward her canister of bear repellant. After sizing them up and deciding they weren’t worth harassing, the boy returned to overseeing his gang.

“That must’ve been what we smelled a few nights ago,” Leila said after they were out of earshot.

Cassie nodded, remembering that night of smoky air. “I guess it’s a good thing the weather is getting warmer. At the rate these kids are going, they’ll burn the entire city trying to cook and stay warm at night.”

“I bet a lot of it’s on purpose. They burn things because they’re mad.”

“Maybe they did at first,” Cassie said. “But it’s probably all accidental any more. Those kids back there looked too skinny and hungry to be destroying things just because.” She frowned slightly. “They burn stuff down because they don’t know how to build and watch a fire properly.”

“You could teach them. Put up a sign on Callaway. ‘Use Fire Safely, Ask Me How. Price: One Can of Food.’”

“I don’t know if I want to teach anything to these wild brats.”

“How else are we going to barter for better supplies? Once we’re out of liquor and cigarettes, that’s it for trade goods, unless we want to offer ourselves like those girls we saw in the Wal-Mart parking lot at Christmas.”

“Don’t remind me.”

They were into the first ring of houses now, but most had burnt months ago. The girls fell silent, walking the empty streets and fighting the creeping sense that ghosts were sheltering in the still and watchful remnants of what had once been a typical subdivision. Here they had gone to birthday parties as children, slumber parties at twelve and thirteen, and here they had met friends for high school football games, dances and pep rallies. They were used to the changes in their own neighborhood, but seeing Quail Heights for the first time since the Telo left them unsettled.

The first intact house had been ransacked, as had the second. “This was a dumb idea,” Leila said, shivering even though the afternoon wasn’t cold.

At the third house, they found a bag of dried beans, overlooked where it had fallen on the pantry floor and been covered by some paper grocery sacks. “It’ll take all night to soak these,” Cassie said. “But at least we’ll eat tomorrow.”

Leila picked up a silver bracelet, dropped and stepped on in some earlier forager’s departure. She held it up to the light, then placed it on her wrist and fiddled with the clasp. “If we go back now and start soaking them, we may be able to eat tonight.”

“Let’s finish the block,” Cassie said. “And then we’ll go back, whether we find anything else or not.”

Two houses later, they did find something, but not what they were expecting.

* * *

“Here, kitty, kitty.”

It was a male voice, on the other side of the closed door of the master bedroom. Leila and Cassie looked at each other.

“Let’s go,” Cassie whispered.

Leila shook her head. “He’s trying to catch a cat. I bet he’s going to eat it.”

“Another week like we’ve been having and we may be doing the same thing.”

“I thought you cared about animals.”

“That was before we were starving. Come on.”

“No. You’re the one always talking about principles, and eating pets is wrong.” Leila threw the door open, and a blur of black and white streaked past her feet.

In the middle of the room, a young man stood up. He was wearing military fatigues and a leather vest. Long brown hair brushed his shoulders and looked surprisingly clean. “What did you do that for?” He took a step toward them, but his expression was more of frustration than hostility.

“Was that your cat?” Leila asked in a tone that made it clear she knew precisely what he had been doing.

“Are you from PETA or something? It was going to be dinner.” He scanned her face, then Cassie’s, lapsing into an attitude of wary patience. “It’s okay, I’ve got others.” He gestured toward a bulging backpack.

While Leila backed away, her lip curling in disgust, Cassie asked why he needed so many. “They’ll rot before you can eat all of them, and it’s not right to kill what you won’t use.”

“Oh, they’ll get used.” The young man held out his right arm, displaying a blue suede gauntlet that had the uneven look of something made by hand. “I’m with the Regents. There’s about fifty of us living on the north side of Main at the Regency Hotel.”

“This is a long way to forage.”

He picked up the pack and slung it onto his back. “It’s hard to keep a big group fed.”

As he walked out the door, Leila called after him. “Eat your own goddamn strays!”

He stopped and took a few slow steps back. “Why? Are you planning to eat the ones around here yourself?”

While Leila sputtered for an answer, he turned to go. Cassie ran after him. “Hey!”

“What now?”

“Is your group going to be here long? You’re not trying to take this place over, are you? I mean. . .” She rested a hand on her canister of bear repellent. “We’re sorry we scared the cat. We don’t want trouble.”

He smiled, and it was a friendly smile. “We don’t mess with girls who don’t mess with us. Regents policy. And mine.”

“What’s your name?”

He hesitated. “Jay Gallard, but they’ve been calling me Galahad. What’s yours?”

“Cassie Thompson.”

“Cassie, like Cassandra? The one who knew the Trojans were going to die?”

“Just Cassie.”

He gave a jerk of his shoulders and adjusted the backpack. “Well, Cassie,” he said, “good luck to you. And to your friend the kitty-lover.”

Excerpt from Cassie’s journal:

Leila and I tried Quail Heights today, but didn’t get much. We met a nice-looking guy, though. I saw how he noticed Leila, and it made me jealous. Starvation suits her, whereas I probably look like some old farmer’s scarecrow.

Actually, I have no idea what I look like any more, except I keep getting thinner. Each place we move to, the first thing I do is make Leila cover the mirrors. She hates it when I do that. Now that she’s skinny like her older sisters were, she wants to see herself every chance she gets. I can’t stand to look in the mirror, though. I’m not sure why.

But now I wonder if I still look okay, or if I’m scary, or what. It’s a stupid thing to care about when I don’t know where my next meal is coming from. There’s certainly no point in being pretty for anyone. Not even for Galahad. I’ll probably never see him again, and besides, he’s in a gang that eats pets. I told Leila we might have to do the same if we don’t find real food soon, but I don’t think I would be able to do it for real. Dad used to say to never say never, especially when it comes to survival situations, but I’m pretty sure he never thought I’d have to deal with something like this.

Chapter Two

Two days later, they ran into Galahad again. This time, he and Cassie startled each other in the garage of a house near the freeway. She had found a stash of camp food and clutched a mylar pouch to her chest. “Finders, keepers. I think there’s a tabby around here, though.”

Galahad came closer and looked at what she was holding. “What is that?”

“Please. It’s been twenty-four hours since our last meal. If I give you some cigarettes, will you go away?”

“I don’t smoke.” He took one of the silver packets and examined it. “I had no idea they made these. Is this where you usually find them? In garages?”

Cassie hesitated. Did she want to take a chance he might steal supplies she would’ve otherwise found for herself? The friendliness in his eyes weakened her resolve. “Yes,” she said. “And in campers, basements, places where people keep their wilderness gear.”

He handed back the packet. “My family didn’t do any camping. I would’ve never guessed to look for food in a garage.”

“What were you looking for, then? Pets?”

“Tools. We need another hex set. The last one went missing.”

This was something Cassie didn’t mind helping with since she already had plenty of tools. “Try forty-three eleven across the street. I saw hex wrenches there in all sizes.”

“You actually know what one is?”

“Did you think just because I’m a girl I only know about lipstick? I’m a certified wilderness survival expert and was signed up for a night class in auto mechanics at the community college before . . . you know.”

Galahad gazed at her with renewed interest. “So was that just what you were into, like some girls used to do ballet?”

“My dad was into backpacking, and my mom grew up LDS. She didn’t believe that whole Book of Mormon thing, but she thought they had the right idea about storing things for hard times.”

“Well, you must’ve learned a lot. Your hair and clothes look clean. You don’t even stink.”

Cassie felt her cheeks grow warm. “Basic hygiene isn’t hard. And every house is full of clothes, so it’s no big deal to get clean ones when we want them.”

“Yeah, but my group forages all over the city, and most kids don’t even try to live like humans any more. It’s like they’ve all reverted to the Neolithic.”

“Why do you think I’m not with a group? My parents made me promise not to forget how I was raised. They said I should use everything they taught me and hold on as long as I could, in case someone finds a cure.” She looked away. “As if. Seems pretty stupid to think anyone is left to find a cure.”

Galahad swiped a hand through his hair. “Listen, would you like to join our group? Regents could use someone like you.” When she hesitated, he added, “There’s safety in numbers, and we’re an okay bunch. You’ll at least get to eat.”

“Eat what? Cats?”

“Not always. And there’s enough of us to forage that the others can stay behind and work on safety, heating and things like that. Division of labor. It’s what makes people civilized. Without it, we’re just animals.”

Cassie considered. A lot of the gangs were wild and violent, but that didn’t mean they all were. It was becoming clear that she and Leila didn’t stand a chance as independent foragers. “Can my friend come, too?”

“The kitty-lover? Sure.”

She found Leila, and once Galahad assured her that the Regents’ menu didn’t always feature household pets, she felt a little better about the proposition. “It’ll be nice to have a group to share the work,” she admitted.

“So how do we get to your place?” Cassie said. “And can we stop and pick up some of our things?”

“Our forage leader is at the end of the block. Let’s ask.”

* * *

The forage leader was a wiry young man named David. He wore his greasy hair tied into three separate tails, and his dark eyes were rimmed in charcoal, giving his face the appearance of a skull. It was a look that had been favored by one of the teen gangs that rampaged through the city during the final days of the die-off. Before Cassie could register her concern, Leila gasped in recognition. “You’re not–?”

“KDS?” David’s eyes met hers in challenge. “Yeah, I used to run with the Kevorkian Death Squad, but my friend here,” he gestured toward Galahad, “convinced me to change my ways. At least for awhile.”

Galahad had been rearranging some boxes in the back of the van, and he frowned in annoyance. “Killing people is no way to live.”

“I’ll remember you said that, and I’ll use it against you.” David’s lips twitched, as if he knew a secret.

“So are the Kevorks still around?” Cassie asked. “We heard they disbanded after there were no more grownups to kill.”

“That’s true. Once they ran out of adults, the younger ones started killing the older ones. People dropped out fast, and now everyone who’s still alive is with some other group. Regents are kind of goody for my taste.” His gaze flicked toward Galahad who was still working with his head down, pretending not to listen. “But they suit for now.” Suddenly he smiled, and in spite of his intimidating appearance, it was a boyish grin that made Cassie want to smile, too. “So I hear you’ve got tools, propane and extra water filters.”

“Yes,” Cassie said cautiously. “I have some survival gear from my parents. Can you take us home to pack?”

“Girls with goods can always have a ride.” He waved them toward the shuttle, but from the way his gaze lingered on Leila’s hips, Cassie suspected his words had more than one meaning. She would need to warn her friend not to get too comfortable with these guys.

It was with a mixture of relief and regret that the girls loaded their most necessary items into the Regents’ battered hotel van. It would be good to have the safety of a group and to escape the memories of their suburban neighborhood. Cassie tucked a family photo album into her duffel bag, but it was with the guilty knowledge that she hadn’t opened it in months and would probably be unable to do so ever again.

They settled into the van with David, Galahad and two other foragers, who all wore blue suede gauntlets. The driver, who appeared barely older than fourteen, turned the shuttle out of the cul-de-sac, and soon they were on their way toward the skyscrapers of downtown.

“So have you done any hunting?” David asked Cassie, settling onto the seat in front of her.

“Just target practice.” Having not been into the city in months, she gazed out the cracked window in curiosity at the wrecked and abandoned cars on the sides of the roads. Some had burned, some were stripped of parts, and some looked like children were living in them, or had tried to for awhile.

“We used to hunt dogs and cats,” David went on, “but they’ve been scarce since winter because there’s so much competition from the other groups. We’re starting to consider park squirrels and pigeons. Any experience with that sort of thing?”

“Traps and snares,” she said absently.

“The ones we’ve tried don’t work.”

“I learned to make some in my survival courses. I can show you.” Outside her window, a group of girls ran out of a grocery store, shouting and waving clubs made from mop handles.

David saw where she was looking. “Brats. I’m surprised they haven’t gotten food poisoning or been picked up.”

“They should be careful. It’s sad what some of the older guys are doing to the girls,” Galahad said.

“Sad for the girls, I suppose. For the guys, it’s just a good time.” David turned back to Cassie. “Speaking of food poisoning, do you know anything about food storage? There’s a girl in our group who knows how to use a dehydrator, but since the electricity went out. . .” he shrugged. “We tried laying some dog meat in strips on the deck by the pool, but it went bad.”

“Did you boil and salt it first?”

He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Boiling! Who’d have thought?”

“And you’ll want some kind of netting to keep the flies off.”

While David mulled this over, Cassie noticed a cluster of signs in front of a church. Some were neatly painted, others less so, and they all seemed to be about sinners.

“Christian Soldiers,” David said, following her gaze. “They blame everyone who isn’t one of them for the Telo. They say it’s punishment for our sins.”

Leila had been listening, and now she leaned across the aisle. “But we’re still alive. Why didn’t God punish us, if we’re so sinful?”

“This is our punishment, Galahad said. “To be living like animals.”

“And don’t worry about being alive,” David added. “If they catch you, they’ll fix that.”

Cassie sat back in her seat. “So is the whole city like this? Just a bunch of tribes squabbling over who gets to eat the cats and whose fault everything is?”

Galahad shrugged. “Pretty much. I wish–”

“Back to what you were saying about drying meat,” David interrupted. “I think we can get netting.” He looked at Galahad. “The Thespians will have some. Maybe we can cut a deal, if they can stand to be parted from their petticoats.”

“Who are the Thespians?” Leila asked.

“They live at the theater,” Galahad explained. “They go around in costumes and greasepaint, but they’re basically all right. We’re on friendly terms with them.”

He was about to say more when the driver cursed. “Roadblock.”

While David and Galahad rushed to the front of the van, Leila and Cassie stared at each other, wide-eyed.

“It’s just kids,” David said with relief.

“Should I try to break through?” the driver asked.

“No. We don’t want to damage the shuttle. There’s enough of us to break up their little nursery party. We might even have some fun.” He drew a pistol from the holster at his hip. “Grab your guns, folks,” he said. “And don’t be afraid to use them if they pull any tricks.”

Cassie hesitated. This was precisely the sort of situation she had hoped to avoid. Reluctantly, she reached for her father’s hunting rifle, which she had brought along in its leather case. Beside her, Leila picked up Cassie’s target rifle, even though she had no clue how to use it. “Just pretend like you know what you’re doing,” Cassie whispered as the shuttle slowed to a stop. “Since it’s just a bunch of little ones, they’ll probably be scared and run off.”

Leila nodded, and they moved to the front of the van.

They had stopped in front of a roadblock made of trash cans, furniture and scrap lumber from burnt buildings. Around it, a group of dirty children glared. Two boys started throwing rocks, but their leader shouted at them and they stopped. He approached the van, brandishing a length of pipe. “This is a toll way. Give us some food.”

“Forget it, brat.” David held his gun high so all the kids could see. “Now clear this road before–”

The crack of a rock on the windshield cut him off.

“You little fuckers!” He fired a shot at the leader’s feet.

The kid jumped back with a yelp, and a storm of rocks, bricks and debris rained down on the shuttle, cracking windows and denting metal as the children whooped and shrieked. David opened fire, and Galahad and the other foragers opened the windows and fired, too. Cassie hung back at first, unsure what to do, but when some of the children rushed the shuttle and began rocking it back and forth, she made her way to a broken window.

“No!” David shouted. “Try to get the leader while I reload.”

Dodging rocks and leaning on the side of the door for balance, she raised the rifle to her shoulder. In the distance, she could see the boy who had accosted them doing something with a bottle and a lighter.

“Molotov cocktail!” Galahad called out.

“Shoot to kill,” said David.

Seeing no other option, Cassie fired.

“I said–”

She tried again, and this time her shot hit home. The boy fell to the ground, and the rioting children paused and looked at each other in confusion.

By now, David had reloaded and rushed down the steps, firing into the crowd. “Get out of here!”

The kids scattered, and David grinned up at Cassie. “Nice work.”

* * *

David praised Cassie on the rest of the drive to the hotel, but she could take no satisfaction in what she had done. She didn’t know whether she had killed the boy or merely wounded him, but it would be the same, either way. Blood loss and infection were just as lethal as any bullet, and murder wasn’t something to be proud of. Besides, in spite of David’s instructions, she had aimed to miss. Seeing the way Galahad was looking at her, curious and vaguely critical, she hardened her features and turned away.

The van pulled into the circular drive of the once-elegant downtown hotel. The glass was broken out of the doors and front windows, and crude attempts had been made to patch the gaps with signs, plywood, and heavy curtains. A teenage girl and young boy stood guard under the tattered canopy, so much alike in features that it was obvious they were siblings. Seeing the shuttle, the girl said something to her brother, and he scurried inside, returning with a group of kids of all ages. David threw open the back doors, and Galahad began handing down their scavenged goods.

As Leila and Cassie stepped off the van, the group paused, cans and boxes in their arms.

“Oh, yeah,” David said. “This is Cassie and Leila. They’ll be joining us.”

A redhead appraised the girls coolly. “They’ll need to be voted on.”

“I know.” He turned to Galahad. “You mind taking them to Mundo? He’s pissed at me right now.”

Galahad led the girls into the lobby, where some youngsters lounged on dirty plush sofas and chairs. They looked up at the group’s approach, and a dog near a girl’s feet lifted his head, but no one made any move to get up.

“I thought you were having school,” Galahad remarked.

“Alaina said we were a bunch of stupid ingrates,” a boy said from where he had draped himself over an ottoman. His clothes were damp with weeks of dirt, and grime was embedded in rings around his neck. He didn’t seem at all concerned about the insult or his education.

Galahad frowned but kept walking, with Cassie and Leila at his heels. They passed the hotel restaurant, but saw no sign that any cooking or eating was going on. They wound down another hallway, carpeted in what was still a blue and gold pattern at the edges, but was mostly dried mud and debris down the center. Walls showed hand prints, graffiti and scuff marks, with only token attempts at cleaning. Finally, they came to a door with a brass plate: Conference Suite A.

Inside, a small conference table was littered with dirty cups and plates, and in a clear spot at one end, a powerfully built older teen sat slumped in a chair while a younger boy with glasses and a lab coat wound a bandage around his hand. They both looked up, and two guards who had been playing cards on a sofa under the window grabbed their weapons and jumped to their feet. Seeing it was only Galahad and a couple of girls, they sat down and resumed their game.

Galahad introduced Cassie and Leila to the young man at the end of the table, and Mundo smiled politely. “Sorry I can’t shake hands. Doc here is slow.”

The boy in the lab coat frowned. “Not my fault there’s no more band-aids. You guys need to be more careful. You’re lucky we’ve still got antibiotic ointment. Once that’s gone, we’ll have to cut a deal with the Pharms.”

Mundo waved his other hand. “Gotta get something they want first.” He looked brightly at Galahad. “So how was the foraging? Anything good besides a couple of pretty girls?”

Before Galahad could speak, Cassie said, “I’m not a commodity.”

“She’s a survival expert,” Galahad explained. “She says she knows about fire safety, plant identification . . . things like that.”

Mundo started to lean forward, but Doc’s tug on his hand stopped him. Annoyed, Mundo stretched his arm back out, but kept his eyes on Cassie, sizing her up with greater interest than before. “So tell me what all you can do. Food and water are our big concerns right now. Winter sucked, and we need to do some long-range planning.”

“She says she knows how to make jerky,” Galahad offered.

“We can’t live off jerky,” Doc said. He finished wrapping Mundo’s hand and dropped his scissors, ointment and bandages into a leather bag. “We need to find a new source of vitamins or we’re going have our teeth fall out from scurvy. And don’t even get me started on pellagra.”

“Have you tried rose hips?” Cassie asked. “If you can find some dead roses, you’ll have plenty of vitamin C.”

Doc’s thin face broke into a smile. “Are you sure about that? There’s a florist shop near here. No one’s touched it.”

“If we can find a book on plant ID, we can find a lot of uses for dead flowers.”

Mundo nodded. “I’ll arrange a guard so you can go to the library.”

Galahad cleared his throat. “She still has to be voted on.” Then he indicated Leila. “And her.”

Mundo turned to Leila with interest. “Are you a survival expert, too?”

Leila had been hanging back, silent, and now her cheeks flushed. “No. I’m sorry. I can sew a little. And cook.”

This answer didn’t please anyone, but Mundo covered for it nicely and told Galahad to find the girls a room on one of the upper floors. “After supper, we’ll have you brought to our evening meeting, and we’ll take a vote on whether to let you join.”

After Mundo dismissed them, Galahad led them from the room and down a dark hallway. “I hope you don’t mind stairs,” he said, picking up a common-use flashlight. “Only group members and VIPs get to stay on the lower floors.” He switched on the light and pulled open the stairwell door. “But you’ll be taken care of. And I’m sure they’ll vote you on, even if it’s only provisional.”

As they puffed their way to the sixth floor, Leila said, “Provisional?”

“There’s three possible outcomes to a membership vote: yes, no, or provisional.”

“But what does provisional mean?” Cassie asked.

“Two weeks.” Galahad pushed open the door at the sixth floor and led them to a musty room at the end of the hall. “After that, we vote again. We’ve only had one person not come off provisional status, and it was because he was lazy, and we kicked him out before he could come up for vote a second time.” Galahad opened the curtains so they could see out the window. “Lots of natural light in here, even if it is kind of stuffy. Someone will be up soon with food, water and a lantern.”

“What about our bags?” Cassie asked.

“They’re safe. Unless there’s something specific you need, you’re better off waiting until after the vote. If you get voted on, you’ll be given another room on a lower floor, and it’ll be just another thing to carry up and down the stairs.”

She nodded and was about to sit down, but the way Galahad stood watching her gave her pause. “Was there something else?”

“What you said about rose hips. Are you sure?”

“Yes. Why?”

“My cousin is sick. It looks like scurvy, and he needs vitamins pretty bad. The idiot kept giving away his vitamin ration during the winter, something about doing Jesus’ work.”

“If it’s only a deficiency, we can get him well.”

“And another thing. . .”

From the look in his eyes, Cassie could guess what was coming next. “No,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “I didn’t mean to shoot that boy. I just wanted to scare him.” She looked away, blinking so he wouldn’t see her sudden tears.

To her surprise, he touched her on the shoulder. “You did right. Sometimes we gotta do things we don’t want to do. It doesn’t make us bad people.”

Cassie nodded but refused to meet his gaze. She would have to be tougher than this if she was going to survive in a gang.

After he had gone, Leila and Cassie each sat on a bed.

“You were flirting,” Leila said.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“And don’t lie. You killed that boy on purpose.”

“I did not. Besides, we were in danger.”

“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “It was just a bunch of little kids.”

“They had Molotov cocktails. They could’ve set the van on fire.”

Leila folded her arms across her chest. “No, you just wanted to get in good with them.” Before her friend could answer, she added, “You want to make yourself look special so I’ll look even more useless than I am.” She lay down and pulled a corner of the bedspread over her face.

“You’re not useless,” Cassie said. “I’m sure you’ve got more to offer than those kids we saw in the lobby. A good attitude is all that’s really needed.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” came the muffled voice from the bed. “They’ll vote you on right away, and I’ll be lucky not to end up alone on the streets.”

“No. We’re a two-for-one deal. They vote us both on, or neither of us.”

Leila moved the bedspread away from her face. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do. You know I don’t want to run with a gang, anyway. If we weren’t so damn hungry. . .”

“Yeah,” Leila said. “It makes us do stupid things.”

* * *

Dinner was brought to them in their room — an odd meal of questionable meat that Leila wouldn’t touch and some hard flat things that looked like fried oatmeal. They were given a water ration that Cassie sterilized with the UV sanitizer she kept in her pocket, and after they had eaten and cleaned up so as not to provide temptation for rats or roaches, Galahad returned to take them downstairs.

The girls were led before a motley group of children ranging in age from three-year old Bethany, who was related to the girl in charge of housekeeping assignments, to nineteen-year old Alex, a former college ROTC student who was leader of the guards. Mundo asked Cassie and Leila to go before the group and tell about their qualifications and reasons for wanting to join.

Cassie gave a quick description of her survival skills and interest in herbs and plants. When she fell silent, David and Galahad recounted how she had helped defend the shuttle. With their endorsement, she was unanimously voted on.

Leila, who could only muster up a few vague accomplishments and assurances that she was a hard worker, was given provisional status.

“What happened to this ‘two-for-one deal,’” she demanded once they had been shown to their new room on the third floor, a few doors down from the deck and outdoor pool.

“You were voted on,” Cassie said. “They’ll take you off provisional at the next vote. And if they don’t, I’ll quit.”

“That’s not what you promised before.”

“I said I wouldn’t let them kick you out altogether, not–”

“Oh, forget it.” Leila had finished hanging her clothes in the closet and went to wash her face, using nearly half their water ration.

In no mood to argue, Cassie lay down. “The beds are pretty comfortable,” she offered, hoping to change the subject.

“That’s good,” Leila said in a tone that implied she didn’t care one way or the other.

“I wonder what’s for breakfast in the morning.”

“As long as it’s not pets, I don’t care.”

“Think they’ll give us good assignments?”

“Maybe they’ll ask you to kill some more children.”

Cassie resisted the temptation to call Leila a bitch and went to sleep.

Chapter Three

Breakfast was lumpy hot cereal of various types mixed together and set out on the buffet table in the hotel breakfast room for everyone to serve themselves. A guard stood watch, writing names on a clipboard so there would be no second helpings.

True to his promise, Mundo had ordered a library expedition, so while Leila checked the duty roster for her day’s assignment, Cassie gulped her food and hurried to the lobby to meet her group. Doc was already waiting and greeted her with enthusiasm. “I’ve been trying to get permission for a library trip for a month,” he said. “It’s great to have you here. You’re like a catalyst.”

“I’m not trying to be,” Cassie said, noting the embroidered name “Brody” on Doc’s lab coat.

Doc saw where she was looking. “My dad was a biomedical researcher,” he said. “I like to wear his coats. Mom had them embroidered special.”

Cassie nodded, wondering with a sudden pang if it had been a mistake not to bring her father’s heavy down parka. She had left it behind because the shuttle had been nearly full and she didn’t want to take anything she wouldn’t need now that it was spring. But what about next winter? She would miss the warm thick comfort that had reminded her of her father’s arms as she lay alone in her dark room or sat up late with Leila, whispering her fears for the future.

“I think everyone’s here,” Doc said, breaking into her thoughts.

Cassie looked at the assembled group. She had learned a few names the night before, but many still eluded her. “Looks like a pretty big group just to go to the library. It’s only a few blocks away, right?”

“You need a group to protect your barter items,” Doc explained. “You never know what you’ll run into out there.”

“Two girls got attacked by wild dogs last winter,” said Julilla, a rangy high school basketball star. “But don’t worry. I think most of the dogs have become someone’s dinner by now. It’s the other groups you have to watch out for.”

“And loners,” another guard said. “The ones without a tribe are sometimes worse, especially if they’ve been bartering with the Pharms.”

“Who are these Pharms I keep hearing about?” Cassie asked.

“Don’t you have them in the suburbs? I thought they were everywhere,” Doc said. “They took over the drug stores, and their plan is to get control over the entire city. They’ve got a big network, and you can get just about anything pharmaceutical from them, if you can pay their price.”

“They keep slaves,” someone added. “They get kids hooked on narcotics, then make them work for the group in return for their fix.”

“If one of them is ever after you,” Julilla said, “plan on killing him. They’re usually high on something and do crazy stuff.”

“There’s no reasoning with a Pharm,” Doc agreed.

This information made Cassie rest a nervous hand on the pistol she had been given. It wasn’t a weapon she was comfortable with, but she was glad to have it. She had also been given a blue suede gauntlet, made from material cut from a lobby chair. Knowing she was an official group member helped allay her anxiety about wandering the city streets on foot. With Doc, two young boys carrying their barter items, and six guards, they headed out.

Cassie hadn’t paid much attention to the immediate area the day before, having been too upset by the shooting at the roadblock. Now she looked at the streets disfigured with dirt and blowing trash. Sewers had backed up, disgorging muck into the gutters. Intersections were bare of traffic lights and street signs, which had fallen during winter storms or been pulled down by bored and angry teenagers. Dead electrical lines dangled from poles and snaked across the road, ready to trip the unwary. It seemed nearly every window at street level had been broken, and the stench of rotting bodies wafted out of some of the buildings.

“The last grownups,” Doc said, seeing her wrinkle her nose. “And the kids who’ve died since. Suicide, food poisoning, infections, accidents . . . things like that.”

Cassie didn’t need to be told all the ways young people could die. It hadn’t been unusual in the suburbs to break into a house and find infants dead of dehydration, or a teenager who couldn’t bear the devastation, rotting in a homemade noose. “Why hasn’t anyone buried them?”

“Who should do it? And where? Some of us tried at first, but the cemeteries are full, and it got to be too time-consuming to dig graves in the parks. Then winter came, and we had other problems, like trying to survive.”

“Besides,” said a tall blond boy named Zach, “dead bodies keep the strays fed. Fat dogs and cats go good in the soup pot.”

He watched Cassie’s face for a reaction but, getting none, turned his attention to other matters and was soon deep in flirtation with Julilla.

They arrived at the library without incident, and Cassie admired, as she often had in earlier times, the grand stone building with its stately columns. In the sea of glass skyscrapers twisting their modern shapes toward the clouds, the old library represented permanency, something transcendent that linked the present to the past.

The aura of timelessness was ruined by the guard contingent that met the Regents at the door. Several minutes of negotiations followed, culminating in the Regents being allowed up the steps while one of the library guards ran inside, returning with a tall, serious girl in a plain blue dress and glasses, her hair neatly coiled at the nape of her neck. She settled herself behind a table and examined the Regents’ trade offerings. “These will get you about five fiction, maybe three non-fiction,” she said. “The actual books you choose will determine the final cost.”

Doc nodded, having been through this procedure before. “Do we still get to keep them for one week? And can we choose which items you’ll give back when we return them?”

The librarian gave him a stern look over the tops of her glasses. “Did you have a preference?”

“The two cans of green beans.”

One of the Regents guards opened her mouth to protest, but Doc waved a hand and she remained silent.

“We’ll see,” said the librarian. “Pick some books, and then we’ll decide.”

They were allowed to take one guard with them, so Doc selected Julilla. After being informed that they weren’t to speak above a whisper, they were led to the stacks where other people were browsing, each led by a girl in stern librarian garb carrying a flashlight aloft through the dark rooms. Cassie soon found herself among the plant and wilderness books with a girl of ten shining her flashlight on the spines and glaring up at her from time to time through thick glasses that distorted her eyes, making them look as big as dinner plates. Cassie was disappointed with the selection, but she finally found a book that would suit the group’s needs and went in search of Doc.

She found him examining medical texts. “She won’t let me check out the Merck Manual,” he whispered in outraged tones. Before he could say more, his guide frowned and hushed him. With a sigh, he handed Cassie a book, indicating with hand signals that he wanted her opinion. It was an illustrated guide to home remedies for such ailments as colds, coughs and sore throats, and Cassie nodded in approval.

Upon returning to the lobby, they handed their books to a girl whose badge identified her as a circulation clerk. She made some notes, consulted a chart and conferred with one of the older librarians. It was decided that Doc could have back his cans of green beans if he returned the books within seven days. The other goods they would keep as their fee.

“That’s some operation they run,” Cassie said as they walked back to the hotel.

“They’re efficient, I’ll give them that. Smart move, setting themselves up as guardians of knowledge in exchange for food and protection. But I hear the university has a library with better science resources.”

“We should go there sometime.”

“I keep telling Mundo, but he says it’s too far away. He doesn’t like wasting guards and trade goods on this sort of thing. He only authorized this mission to see what you’d come up with.”

* * *

The children who had been sent to the florist shop didn’t do well. Most of the flowers had been in glass coolers, and when the electricity went out, the roses had rotted in their rancid water. There were a few bouquets that had been on display, and the children brought these back dry and nearly perfect. Cassie examined them critically. There were enough to dose the people who were already showing signs of scurvy, but they would need a lot more.

After a lunch of watery soup, Cassie was allowed to use the kitchen, where she showed Doc how to make rose hip tea while Sandra, the head cook, hovered over the operation, jealous of the intrusion on her turf. When Cassie informed her that the rose petals were edible, Sandra gave her a skeptical look but took the dried petals and put them in a plastic container for safekeeping.

The foraging team returned in the afternoon without much food but with several cases of toilet paper, which made them heroes in the eyes of the children who were suffering from diarrhea. Cassie watched for Galahad to have a free moment, then told him about the roses. “Doc went to dose your cousin, but we’ll need a better source. What we have will last about a week, and that’s only if we treat the people who are already sick. There’s not enough to keep everyone else healthy.”

Galahad suggested a meeting, and after the van was unloaded, he and David gathered a small group in the lobby. Aided by a phone book and the foragers’ good memories, they came up with a list of florists’ shops to search. “But it’ll probably be the same at all of them,” Galahad pointed out. “Everyone kept flowers in those big coolers.”

“What about the rose gardens at the zoo?” a girl asked.

“And the rich people’s houses in Washington Oaks,” someone else suggested. “They used to have a rose tour every year, remember?”

“Too many gangs around there,” David said. “But Mundo might approve a trip to the zoo.”

A few of the younger children clapped and nudged each other in excitement, chatting about giraffes and elephants. Galahad frowned and pulled David aside. After a brief discussion, David came back to the group. “We don’t know about the zoo trip, kids,” he said. “Mundo will decide. It might be too dangerous.”

Something about the exchange struck Cassie as odd. She tried to meet Galahad’s eyes, but he shook his head and walked away. As soon as she could make an excuse, she left the rose discussion and hunted him down. “So what was that about? You’re not planning to go there and get all the roses for yourself, are you?”

“I would never put my own family’s needs ahead of the group,” he said. “Paul is a Regent in good standing and will get what’s fair. The hard part is to keep him from giving things away. That’s how he got sick in the first place.”

“So how come you’re discouraging the zoo trip?”

“I’m not. Not for us, at least. Just for the little ones.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Most of those animals died, you know.”

Now Cassie understood. The children would be expecting monkeys and elephants, balloons and popcorn. With everything else they had endured, they didn’t need to see the rotting carcasses of their favorite zoo animals, too.

“Supposedly there’s a Zoo Tribe that lives there,” Galahad went on. “They use the animals for food when they die, or kill them outright if they don’t die fast enough. They use the hides as a uniform. Or so I’ve heard. None of us has actually seen a member of the Zoo Tribe, but if they do exist, it might be upsetting to the little ones.”

Cassie was about to comment when they came around a corner and found Leila, nearly bursting out of a low-cut sweater, lounging on a sofa. She was talking to an Indian teen who was doing something with a motor. Grease was smeared on the carpet, the sofa and on the boy’s hands, arms and clothes. Galahad walked over. “Is that what I think it is?”

The young man looked up and pushed a stray lock of hair off his face, leaving a streak of grease on his forehead. “If you think it’s an alternator, it is.”

“What are you doing with it?” Cassie said. “And why in here?”

Leila looked at her, annoyed, but tried to make a proper introduction. “Cassie, this is Sid. He went to Van Buren High and was planning to go to Rensselaer and study engineering.”

Sid gave a curt nod. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t shake your hand.”

Cassie took a closer look at what he was doing. “I was signed up for an auto mechanics class at the community college when the Telo–”

“You?” Sid’s look of amazement stopped just short of a sneer. “A girl doesn’t need to fix her own car. Some guy will always do it for her.”

“I like mechanical things. And I was planning on a career as a conservationist. What was I supposed to do if my car broke down in a swamp three hundred miles from nowhere? Call Triple-A?”

“It’s kind of a moot point now,” Galahad said.

“Right.” Leila flashed him a smile before returning her gaze to Cassie. “Sid isn’t fixing a car, anyway. He thinks he can convert these alternators into miniature windmills so we’ll have electricity.”

“Only on windy days,” Sid cautioned. “But yeah, that’s the goal here.”

Galahad and Cassie watched in curiosity, asking questions until Sid became exasperated. “How about you let me get one working and then we can talk about what it will do and how to make more.”

Cassie took a few steps back, mumbling an apology, but Galahad said, “If you want privacy, you shouldn’t work in a public area.”

“And where else am I going to get enough light?” Sid waved a hand at the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Outside is cold and windy, and any room with a door will be too dark. Once we’ve got a few of these generators going, there will be plenty of light. But until then. . .”

“We’ll leave you alone, then,” Galahad said. “I was just on my way to make sure the supplies got stored properly.”

He started walking toward the supply room, and Cassie tagged after him, unsure what to do next.

“Think I can help with the cooking?” she asked. “I know a lot about camp cooking. Foil, rocks, box cookers, dutch ovens . . . things like that.”

“You’ll need to talk to Sandra.” Galahad opened a door and let her go ahead. The hall was dark, but there was a flashlight on a shelf, and he turned it on. “She’s in charge of the food. Me and David just forage.”

“She got a little weird when I was in there making tea. But I thought–”

“Mundo lets her choose her own crew,” Galahad said, guessing what she would say next. “But Sandra is reasonable. And she can always use people who can make food that tastes decent and won’t poison us.”

By now, they were at the storage room, which was guarded by a muscular former wrestler who insisted on being called Eleven. “Go relax,” Galahad told Cassie. “There’s nothing you can help with here. Dinner is at six. It’s a little more formal than the other meals, and the planning meeting will be after, so you can mention your assignment preferences then.”

Cassie did as he suggested and went to her room. She hadn’t been there long when Leila came in and threw herself on her bed.

“How was your day?” Cassie asked.

“Boring. They had me cleaning things, and then I had to help the kids with their lessons. When the grownups died, I thought I was done with explaining fractions to fools.”

“Could be worse. The rose-gatherers mostly found rotting flowers, and I had to deal with a weird library cult.”

“Sounds better than cleaning rat and roach droppings from the kitchen. We’ll have to be careful about what they feed us here.”

“It’s mostly stuff out of cans,” Cassie reassured her. “As long as the pots are clean. . .”

“They had me make sure of that.” She flopped onto her stomach and clutched the pillow to her chest. “This place sucks.”

“You seem to have met a nice guy. I know you weren’t hanging around Sid because you’re interested in mechanics all of a sudden. Or are you?”

“Oh, hell no.” She sat up. “But I’m not stupid. I need to make friends. I’m getting off this provisional status bullshit.”

“But if this place sucks. . .” Cassie said.

“Everyplace sucks since the grownups died. I had no idea. . .”

“Yeah.”

Leila looked like she wanted to say more, but lay back down instead and closed her eyes.

* * *

A little before six, the girls were awakened by a pounding of feet in the hall and children’s voices shrieking, “Dinner time, dinner time, come and get it!”

Leila and Cassie combed their hair, straightened their clothes and headed down the stairs. They mingled with the others as they went into the restaurant and then hesitated, unsure where to sit.

David brushed past them. “No assigned seating, ladies. Anywhere is fine.”

Cassie wasn’t convinced. It clear to her eyes that the dining room was as cliquish as any high school cafeteria. Smaller children sat together chatting with their friends while their young leaders held court. The teenagers sat at their own tables, grouped by what appeared to be a combination of friendship and profession. Guards sat together, talking of training and tactics, while Alaina the teacher and some of the more fashionably dressed girls had their own table where they huddled together trading style tips, showing off their stolen jewelry and casting flirtatious glances toward the boys.

One table was set apart from the others, and this was where Mundo sat with two guards stationed behind him, as if he were a world leader in need of protection. He was flanked on each side by a pretty girl, one of them clearly pregnant and each casting hostile glances toward the other.

Cassie had just taken a few uncertain steps toward Alaina and her fashionistas when Doc waved to her. Glad to feel welcome, she hurried over with Leila in tow. But as Cassie slid into a seat, Leila became distracted by something going on at Sid’s table and went to his side with barely a wave of goodbye. Seeing that Galahad was at Sid’s table, Cassie considered following, but Doc’s eager conversation stopped her.

“I’ve been looking through that book,” he said. “And some of it’s pretty bizarre. There’s this one home remedy for the flu that involves a potato and powdered sulfur. . .”

Cassie listened to him ramble for a bit and pretended to be interested. Meanwhile, children in aprons came out of the kitchen with serving bowls. When her table got their bowl, Cassie leaned forward eagerly.

“The rule at dinner is the same as at other meals,” Doc said. “One scoop apiece until everyone has had some. Then if there’s enough, we can have seconds.”

Cassie poured a strange-looking blob onto her plate, concluding it was Spaghetti-Os mixed with whatever else could be poured out of a can. She noticed, though, that the guards’ table and Mundo’s group got extra food, including recognizable pieces of meat instead of little bits mixed into the rest of the food. Mundo’s table even had liquor. In spite of herself, Cassie found herself thinking of how everyone used to eat before the Telo. What wouldn’t she give to be back in her comfortable suburban home with her mother setting out a gourmet salad and plates of grilled salmon, and maybe some roasted potatoes and fresh bread picked up from the bakery that day. It had been so normal to have a table full of fresh food that it never occurred to her to be grateful.

“So what do you think?” Doc was asking. “It would probably taste disgusting, but pine trees are easy to find, and I bet no one else in town is harvesting the needles.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Cassie said, wishing she had been paying attention.

“But honey is a whole other matter. Do you know anything about bees?”

“Not a thing.”

“Damn.”

By now, they had cleaned their plates, and since there was still food in the bowl, they each got another half-ladle.

“Will there be dessert?” Cassie asked.

“For us? Probably not.”

“But you never know,” someone else said. “It’s happened before.”

“True,” Doc said. “It’s all about what David and them were able to scavenge today.”

As it turned out, there was no dessert, except at Mundo’s table where everyone got a few teaspoons of something that looked like vanilla pudding.

“Don’t bother being jealous,” a girl said, seeing where Cassie was looking. “It’s mostly for show and probably not very good.”

“One time, they all got sick,” Doc added. “I don’t know who got in bigger trouble for that — David for foraging bad food or Sandra for letting it get served.”

Someone else leaned forward like he was going to say something, but Mundo stood up and one of his guards took a swipe at a small brass gong. The room fell silent, everyone waiting to hear what Mundo would say.

“Regents! Thank you all for another good day. Our perimeters are secure, our foragers had two successful supply runs to the suburbs, and we have new water filters. We also have some new ideas for how to generate electricity and an excellent lead on a free source of vitamins.”

He continued with an itemized summary of key events and concerns of the day, then asked each of his commanders to give a report. The group heard what goods had been foraged, what security breaches foiled and what plans had been carried out. When all the reports had been given, new plans were voted on and assignments given for the following day. Then Mundo thanked everyone for their cooperation, led them in a chant of “Keep the Faith” and dismissed everyone for the evening. On the way out, they were each given a flashlight with their room number on it and a mark indicating the date the battery had been replaced. Each flashlight had to be returned at breakfast if the owner wanted to eat.

Since food rations would be docked if the batteries had to be changed more than once a month, Cassie kept her light off and followed someone else up the stairs, only turning her light on when she got to her room. Leila arrived a few minutes later, and they agreed to take turns using their flashlights while they washed and changed into fleece and flannel to go to bed.

“I can’t believe I’m on honeybucket duty tomorrow,” Leila said as she washed her face.

“I’m on for Thursday. It looks like everyone but Mundo and the pregnant girl has a rotation, so you can’t say it’s a job that’s not assigned fairly.”

“In the suburbs, we could go outside.”

Cassie nodded. In their old neighborhood, there had been more options for sanitation, even if it had been harder to find food. “I wonder where they dump the buckets?”

“I guess I’m going to find out.”

Leila finished washing up, then Cassie washed, too, and lay down. When she turned off her flashlight, the darkness overwhelmed her. She had become accustomed to it months ago, but now she found herself missing street lights. The dark of the room pressed upon her like a living thing, not malevolent, but not particularly friendly, either. “I’ll be glad when Sid gets those generators working.”

“Yeah,” came Leila’s voice from the other bed. “He’s smart.”

“You should get him to teach you how to make them. It’ll be a good skill and will make you valuable to the group.”

Leila sighed in annoyance. “I don’t want to do stuff like that. I’ve spent my whole life doing math and science things because I was fat and ugly and it was all I was good for. But everything’s different now. I’m better off making one of the important guys my boyfriend, don’t you think?”

Cassie raised herself on an elbow and looked toward Leila’s bed, even though all she could see was darkness. “Don’t be retro. We can be important people all by ourselves if we play our cards right.”

“No. Your way is hard.”

Cassie lay back down. “I think your way would be a lot harder.”

Leila didn’t answer, and after waiting and hoping they could talk frankly like they used to, Cassie closed her eyes to sleep.

Chapter Four

Weeks passed quickly, and Leila got voted on as a full member. Meanwhile, the weather grew warmer and the hotel became stuffy. Since the building had no windows that could be opened, a planning meeting was held to agree on which ones would be broken and how they would be covered when it rained. Galahad found some box fans at about the same time that Sid got his prototype generator to work, and now there were new assignments on the daily roster. Alternators had to be scavenged from abandoned cars, and tools and parts had to be found.

Galahad’s cousin Paul was well enough to get around and spent every afternoon helping make the little windmills. He was slight and pale, with faint rims of red around his eyes and mouth after his bout with scurvy, but Cassie appreciated his quiet company on the afternoons she could take a break from her other chores and indulge her fascination with mechanics. For his part, Paul enjoyed the way Leila hung around their group, pretending an interest in generators, although Sid showed no interest in her and Cassie had begun to suspect he was gay.

One afternoon as they were busy at their work, there was a commotion at the hotel entrance. Curious, everyone abandoned their projects and went to see what was going on.

In the drop-off area, half a dozen guards in white uniforms with red sashes and berets surrounded a group of boys carrying an enormous curtained box on poles. They set the box down, and one of them pulled the curtains apart. There was a scuffling inside, and then a girl stepped out, so heavily swathed in fur, velvet and jewels that for a moment Cassie wondered what century she was in. Paul whispered in her ear. “Thespians.”

By now, the girl was looking around like she expected something to happen. She was thin and compact, with a face powdered chalk white and eyes rimmed with purple all the way to her eyebrows, making her look as if she had been bruised in a fistfight. On top of her brown curls, she wore a tiara that caught the afternoon sunlight in its prisms.

As two little girls scrambled out of the litter to pick up her velvet train, the Thespian guards all bowed. The regal visitor motioned them to rise, her hand glittering with rings. Then a boy in red velvet blew a sour note on a trumpet, and this seemed to be a signal for silence. Cassie and the other Regents stopped shuffling and whispering. Now that he had their attention, the page scanned the crowd with an authoritative lift of his chin. “The Empress Elissa of the Thespian-Operatics is here to speak with your leader, Reymundo Guzman Morales.”

By now, someone had found Alex, and he pushed his way through the crowd. He gave Elissa the briefest of bows, with a smirk that made it clear he was only playing along. In polite tones that just skirted sarcasm, he welcomed Elissa to the hotel and offered to take her to Mundo personally. “But no more than two guards,” he said. “The others have to wait here.”

Elissa scowled. “I never go anywhere without my retinue.”

From the look on his face, it was clear Alex didn’t know what a retinue was, but he covered for this lapse by restating his previous words. “No more than two armed guards. You can take anyone else you like as long as they leave their weapons here.”

This was deemed satisfactory. With her page preceding her, two guards at her sides armed with fake swords and real M16s, and two little girls carrying her train behind her, Empress Elissa swept into the hotel on a mission of importance.

* * *

After the group disappeared into Conference Suite A, Cassie went back to working on the alternators. But in spite of the group’s good intentions and Sid’s patient instructions, no one got much done. Instead, they speculated on the meaning of the unannounced visit.

“Seems like a bad idea to make yourself so obvious,” Paul said.

“And no way can she run away in that dress if something goes wrong,” someone else pointed out.

“Sitting ducks,” Sid agreed. “Now remove that c-clamp. What do you mean you lost your needle-nose pliers? They were right here a minute ago.”

Just before dinner, one of Mundo’s messengers came out of Conference Suite A and ran outside. A few minutes later, the Thespian guards trooped in and headed toward the dining room.

They were going to feed the interlopers! All thought of finishing a generator vanished, and Cassie and her friends put their heads together, wondering if the Thespians were paying and what they should say to Mundo if they weren’t.

They were still discussing the matter when the dinner gong rang.

“Generosity is good policy,” one girl tried to reassure the group as they headed toward the restaurant. “It’s how we maintain our alliances.”

“Alliances don’t mean jack when you’re dead from starvation,” Sid told her. “If they want to show up at dinner time, let them bring some food with them. Or toilet paper. Or something.”

“How do you know they didn’t? Could’ve hidden a whole damn warehouse under that stupid train she was wearing.”

The group entered the dining room, and Cassie noticed Leila was at David’s table, leaning forward to listen while he talked about something that was clearly bothering him. She started to head over in the hope that they were discussing Elissa and she could get some inside information. Galahad was there, too, and caught her eye, but she was waylaid by Doc, who waved her to his table. She slid into the seat Doc was holding for her and asked why Elissa had come and why they were feeding her guards.

“We’re feeding everyone,” he said. “Including the Empress. Elissa and her retinue will be here any minute.” He looked around. “I think they’re just waiting for us all to get here so they can make a big entrance.”

“But what’s it about?”

“I have no idea, but this is only the second time Elissa has come in person. The first time was to ask our help in a joint action to pressure the Pharms to lower the price of vitamins for the winter. This must be pretty big, or she would’ve sent a representative.”

At Mundo’s table, some children were setting out candles, crystal goblets and bottles of wine. “Looks like they’re going all out,” Cassie said.

“Well, she is an empress. Although when they were just the Thespians, she was only a queen. Merging with the Operatics made her figure she deserved a fancier title.”

They were silenced by a fresh banging on the dinner gong followed by a few short notes on a trumpet. With a regal swish of her skirts, Elissa swept in on Mundo’s arm with the page preceding them. Mundo’s two girlfriends followed Elissa’s train-bearers, looking annoyed. A combination of Regent and Thespian guards surrounded the group, creating havoc by blocking aisles and stumbling into things as they protected the leaders from nothing. Everyone pretended their procession was stately, and when they got to their table and found their seats, they paused before sitting. By now, the Regents had figured out they were expected to stand in the presence of the leaders. It wasn’t their usual custom, but with a scraping of chairs on the parquet floor, everyone got to their feet.

“Friends,” Mundo announced, “I’m pleased to introduce Her Excellency, Empress Elissa of the Thespian-Operatics.” He paused for effect, although only the youngest children were impressed. “She and her people are our guests for the evening, and after we’ve eaten, she has some important news to share with us. But for now, please have a seat and enjoy your meal.” Mundo motioned for everyone to sit.

Dinner was unusually quiet and formal. Elissa’s bodyguards stood behind her throughout the meal, tasting new dishes for her and acting like she really was royalty. This made Mundo and his girlfriends Nisha and Kayleen put on airs, too. Cassie thought the meal would last forever, with dish after dish of food going to Mundo’s table while everyone else ate the usual inadequate slop. After their first glasses of wine, the leaders grew more animated, leaning across their table and sharing jokes. By dessert, it seemed they had forgotten they weren’t alone, and the Regents sat in sullen frustration, watching them eat pieces of chocolate off a plate passed around by the page.

It was Alex, the guard leader, who figured out that they had better quit acting like kings and queens and tell the group what was going on. He said a few words to Mundo, who glanced across the dining room, then got to his feet. He didn’t need anyone to bang the gong for silence, although someone did.

“Regents,” he said. “Our honored guest, the Empress Elissa, has news to share with us.”

At these words, Elissa stood. Her page blew a note on his trumpet, and with an arrogant lift to her head, the empress spoke. “I’ve come to tell you,” she said, “of an alarming new development in the city. We have reason to believe that someone is kidnapping children.”

Cassie and many of the older teens suppressed sighs of annoyance. Kidnappings weren’t new, nor were they something anyone could do much about.

Elissa went on to explain that two Operatic children had vanished recently and that the younger brother of one of her consorts had been stolen in broad daylight by an older teen wearing the signs of a tribe unknown to them. “We’ve heard rumors,” she said, “that these children are being picked up by loners and minor groups and traded to a new gang based outside the city. We’ve also heard that this gang, who kids are calling Obits, sometime come into the city to do their own raids. We don’t know the habits of this group and are conducting an investigation.”

By now, the Regents guards were fidgeting with boredom. Doc leaned toward Cassie and whispered, “Someone’s picking up kids for slave labor. Sad, but it happens all the time.”

Elissa picked up the vibe in the room and glanced to Mundo for help.

“These are not typical child-raids,” Mundo said. “The children are being taken by unknown people who have access to diesel fuel. They’re being put into vans and are never seen again. We have reason to think outsiders are involved.” He looked around the room. “The Thespian-Operatics are asking us to join them in the creation of an alliance for the specific purpose of investigating these kidnappings. If this is a new group from outside the city limits, they must be killed or driven out. If the children can be recovered, we must do so. We will tolerate no disrespect.”

By now, the Regents children were wide-eyed with concern, and many teens who had been skeptical were sitting up and paying attention. When Mundo opened the floor for comments, he got an earful.

“How do we know this is being done by outsiders?”

“It could be just a group of outcasts from here in the city.”

“Kids should stick with their groups. If they get picked up, that’s between them and Charles Darwin.”

Elissa listened in increasing annoyance, butting in once to say, “Wait until it starts happening to your kids. See how smug you feel about it then.”

Finally, Alex stood up. “Whether you believe what’s happening is important or not, an alliance will be a good thing. It will increase cooperation and security for all of us.”

This sparked a few murmurs of agreement, and Mundo seized the moment to put the matter to a vote. “All in favor of joining the alliance, raise your hand.”

Cassie and most of the others raised their hands. Elissa gave a regal smile and made a formal speech of thanks, but although her words were cool, there was relief in her eyes.

* * *

To celebrate the new alliance, Mundo called for a movie night. Sid had managed to recharge a laptop computer, and set it up on a table in one of the ballrooms. There wasn’t enough power for a monitor, but everyone was so happy at the prospect of seeing any movie at all that no one cared. Mundo even authorized a glass of wine for everyone sixteen or older.

Cassie sat with the others, sipping her wine to make it last and watching the images on the tiny laptop screen. It had been so long since she had seen a movie that she expected to enjoy it. Instead, she was surprised to find herself bored. The younger children were mesmerized, but many of the older teens were using the occasion to kiss, grope and whisper about each other. Cassie noticed Leila was snuggled up to David, ignored by Sid and oblivious to Paul sitting on the other side of her. Alaina and her fashion-conscious friends sat together, pointing to figures on the screen and giggling about shoes and hairstyles. In the rows behind Cassie’s seat were sounds that suggested a few couples were sufficiently engaged with each other that they would’ve been better off going to their rooms.

With so many distractions, the movie soon lost its appeal, and Cassie tried to sneak away without attracting attention. She was in the hallway and had just turned on her flashlight when someone said her name.

“I never could get into those romantic comedies,” Galahad said, emerging from the darkness. He motioned for her to turn off her flashlight so they could use his instead. “Where you going?”

“To get some sleep. I promised to help Doc make herbal tinctures tomorrow, and I want to do it early since I’m supposed to teach the garden committee how to plant lettuce in the afternoon. Thanks for finding all those seeds, by the way.”

Galahad shrugged and started walking toward the lobby with Cassie tagging by his side. “No need to thank me for stumbling across something by accident.” They were now walking past Conference Suite A and could hear wild laughter from behind the closed door. Galahad shook his head. “Mundo had better be careful. It’s one thing to make alliances, but if he keeps carrying on like it’s pre-Telo times, people are going to get mad. Just because he’s our founder doesn’t mean we can’t vote him out.”

“It’s not every day we get visited by an empress, though.”

Galahad scoffed. “Alex went to college with her older sister and knows all about the self-appointed Empress. She’s just Elissa Templeton, B-student, failed to make the junior varsity cheerleading team so she got into drama instead. She’s nothing special. She never even had a stage role before the Telo. She was the costume coordinator.”

By now, they were at the base of one of the two great spiral staircases that dominated the lobby. They climbed the steps to the halfway point, then sat and dangled their feet over the side. Galahad turned off his flashlight to conserve the batteries, and Cassie took a few cautious sips of her wine. Observing that he wasn’t drinking, she asked, “Finished your wine already?”

“I gave away my share. I drank enough in the first months of the Telo to last me a lifetime.”

“Me and Leila kept all our liquor for trade.”

“A smarter move than drinking it, that’s for sure.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“So who were you before the Telo?” Cassie finally said.

“I told you the day we met. Jay Gallard, ordinary guy.”

“No special interests? No hobbies?”

“A few. But it was my cousin who was the big dreamer. Still is.”

“From the way he was acting tonight, I’d say some of those dreams are about Leila.”

Galahad shifted position. “I don’t suppose you could put in a good word for him?”

“What would I say? She’s looking for a guy with influence. I don’t think Paul fits her criteria. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Leila never thought she had much going for her,” Cassie went on. “She’s smart, but she was fat before the Telo, and what she really wanted was to be pretty like her sisters. Now that she is, she intends to use it as a shortcut. I don’t blame her, I guess. Being smart is hard work.”

“Well, hanging around David will only get her so far. I like him well enough as a foraging buddy, but he’s no one I’d want to see a nice girl get involved with. He takes what he wants and moves on, if you know what I mean.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her.” When Galahad said nothing, Cassie added, “And I’ll put in a good word for Paul.”

Galahad’s hand touched hers in the dark, then almost as quickly drew back. “Thanks.”

In the quiet of the empty lobby, their talk shifted to ordinary things — chores, people and what the new alliance would entail. Cassie found Galahad’s presence comforting, and the gentle timbre of his voice made her think maybe everything in this crazy world would turn out okay. The wine made her sleepy, and she found herself wishing could lean against Galahad’s shoulder, feel his arm around her waist and listen to his quiet words all night. Instead, she heard the sound of banging doors, stomping feet and excited voices as the movie ended and kids began trooping down the hall.

Elissa stepped out of Conference Suite A, her curls and tiara in disarray. As she started across the lobby, her page ran ahead with a battery-powered lantern, and the girls carrying Elissa’s train stumbled over their feet as they tried to keep up. The rest of the retinue filed in, and her guards scurried ahead to open the doors and get her litter ready.

From their perch on the spiral staircase, Galahad and Cassie watched a crowd of Regents follow the Thespians outside to see them off. “Want to go?” he asked.

“I saw the arrival. It was enough drama for one day.”

He laughed softly, and it was a reassuring sound. “I’ll see you to your room, then.”

She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “Thanks, but I don’t need help.”

“Can’t a guy do something just because he wants to?” He let go of her hand and turned on his flashlight.

As Cassie followed him up the stairs, she fought the urge to tell him that what she really wished was that instead of lighting her way, he would keep holding her hand. Nothing good would come of that, though. He was what, eighteen? The Telo would get him soon, and even if he was interested in her, she wasn’t sure if she could bear another loss. She feigned disinterest and let him walk her to her room where he dismissed her with a wave. “Good night,” he said. “And don’t forget what we talked about.”

Excerpt from Cassie’s journal:

We got a visit from the Empress Elissa today. Those Thespians sure love their costumes and makeup! When I first saw them, I thought they were crazy, since all that time spent fixing themselves up could be better spent looking for food or filtering their water. But the more I think about it, the more I think maybe they’re the sanest of us all. They get to be someone different every day.

Maybe I should make up my face and wear a costume. I could pretend I’m just about anyone but me. I think that’s what Leila is doing with her jewelry and sexy clothes. Being someone else helps her forget, which makes it easier to move forward.

Chapter Five

Cassie dressed in the dim glow of her flashlight and splashed some water on her face. She had waited up late for Leila, only to fall asleep until she stumbled in a few hours later. They had both been too sleepy to talk, and from the way Leila collapsed on the bed without bothering to undress, there would’ve been little point in trying, anyway. Now as she prepared to meet Doc downstairs, she played her light across Leila’s face and found her still asleep, oblivious. Cassie decided against trying to wake her and went to the ballroom that served as a clinic.

The room was separated by three partitions that pulled out from the wall. Doors along the back wall led to a corridor that allowed Doc and his nurses to access each of the rooms as needed.

The biggest room was for triage and short stays. Sofas and chairs had been brought in for friends of the patients, and there were mattresses on the floor for the sick.

The next room was for treatment, with a small bed for examinations and a table covered with thick pads and a sheet in case Doc needed to attempt minor surgery — a thought that made Cassie shudder. There were books in this room, a fully charged laptop computer with a stack of medical CDs nearby, a cabinet for medicine and bandages, and a propane camp stove and pot for sterilizing instruments. Two precious high-powered lights were available, although the operating table was placed near the windows to get maximum sunlight so that artificial light would only be needed for emergency surgery, should such be required after dark.

The last room was a ward full of mattresses arranged in rows. Cassie had heard that anyone who had so much as a cold preferred to stay at the hospital if there was a bed available. No one had time to sit with a sick person, and with no television, internet, cell phones or radio, it was boring to spend all day in one’s room alone. At least in the hospital, there were things going on and other people to talk to.

This morning, Cassie found the ward empty except for a little girl sleeping off a case of food poisoning. While she dozed, Doc and Cassie took stock of their materials, found the relevant instructions in their latest herb book and went to work. They started by boiling jars and lids, then went on to set up a primitive distilling process using dried rose hips and the strongest liquor Mundo could give them — Bacardi 151. “It’s not really the right thing,” Cassie said, “so I hope it works.”

“As long as we’re not using anything dangerous like isopropyl or ethyl, it should be okay,” Doc reminded her. “And Mundo has the foragers on the lookout for Everclear.”

“Good luck to them. There’s probably some kid out there dead or brain damaged off the last of it.”

Doc snickered and asked her opinion on the best way to handle the pine distillate and willow bark. Since she wasn’t sure, they consulted the book.

Time passed quickly. The sun came up, and Doc had to treat a sore throat and a sprained ankle. His overnight nurse was replaced by a thin and serious twelve-year-old named Rochelle. She pored over the herb book with interest, then took over the more repetitive tasks of sterilizing jars and breaking up willow bark while Cassie distilled the herbs.

It was nearly noon by the time they finished, and Cassie was surprised to realize she had missed breakfast and was in danger of getting no lunch, either. She hurried to the lounge and helped herself to a scoop of noodles from one of the chafing dishes on the buffet table. To her surprise, there were cookies for dessert, with Eleven guarding them like precious jewels.

“Limit is two,” he said, writing her name on a clipboard as she took her share.

“I missed breakfast. Can I have extra?”

Frowning, Eleven flipped to an earlier page on his clipboard. Not finding Cassie’s name on the breakfast list, he grunted. “Wasteful to not show up when they’ve gone to the trouble to make food available.”

She didn’t answer.

“You can have an extra half-scoop of noodles. But no extra cookies.”

She took her extra noodles and scanned the room for a place to sit. In a dim corner by a boarded-up window, Leila was staring at her plate, sleepy and sullen, while Paul expounded on something of obvious importance to him from the other side of the table.

“Where’ve you been?” Leila asked as Cassie slid onto the banquette beside her. “No one woke me up, and I missed my morning chores.”

“I had to meet Doc. I thought about waking you up but you looked so peaceful. . .”

Leila mumbled something, and Paul leaned across the table. “I said I’d help you get caught up. Sweeping won’t take any time at all.”

“It’s the garbage duty I’m not looking forward to.” She looked at Cassie. “Did you know the first two floors of the garage across the street are almost completely full of trash and bodies? That’s why it smells the way it does.”

“That doesn’t sound very sanitary. It’s going to get worse in summer.”

“We’re thinking of setting it on fire,” Paul said. “We just need a little spare gasoline and a day where the wind won’t blow the smoke this way. That’s what David says, at any rate.”

Cassie noticed a hint of disapproval in Paul’s eyes as he said David’s name, but Leila perked up and sat a little straighter. “Where is he? Have they already gone foraging?”

“Joint forage with some Thespians,” he said. “There’s a rumor that the girls from St. Catherine’s Prep found a warehouse full of stuff. We’re hoping to add them to our alliance and get a few meals out of it, too.”

All Leila said was, “Oh,” but Cassie could tell from her tone and the way her eyes narrowed that she was less than thrilled to hear David was spending the morning with the girls from the Catholic prep school. Cassie was surprised to feel a pang of jealousy, too, thinking of Galahad around all those rich girls with their perfect hair and clothes. She quickly came back to reason, though. The girls from St Catherine’s were probably as dirty and smelly as anyone else, and might not want to parley. Why should they, if they had food?

“I’m leading a gardening group on the deck by the pool after lunch,” Cassie said, trying to change the subject. “If you finish your chores early, drop by. We’re mostly planting lettuce, but if there’s enough soil and containers, we’re going to start some tomato plants, too.”

“I’ll think about it.” Leila pushed her plate away and stood up. Paul started to do the same, but she shook her head. “I don’t need any help. Thanks.”

Paul followed her with her eyes as she walked away. “She seems kind of down about something.”

“I don’t think she slept well.” Cassie decided not to mention how late she came in and what her suspicions were about the reason for it.

“She’s a pretty girl. And she’s funny when she’s not in one of these moods.”

Cassie nodded in agreement, her mind flashing back to neighborhood parties on summer evenings with their fathers barbequing while their mothers set out bowls of beans and potato salad. She remembered how she and Leila splashed in her family’s swimming pool, diving to the bottom to see how long they could stay before the air in their lungs pulled them back to the surface.

“I guess the Telo messed us all up,” Paul went on. “I keep telling myself that God has a reason for everything, but Jay, I mean Galahad, says God has nothing to do with it.” He fixed her with a piercing look. “Do you believe that? That God would let such a thing happen for no reason at all?”

“I have no idea.” Cassie drew back from the intensity in his eyes and reached for a cookie. It was stale, but she scarcely noticed.

“Nothing can happen without God’s knowledge, so he must have had something to do with it. Either he caused it or he allowed Satan to make it happen. We were an evil, materialistic society, which is probably why.”

“Seems like if he wanted to punish humans for the sins of society, he’d take the kids to heaven and leave the grownups to suffer, don’t you think?”

“No, he left us behind so we’d have a chance to redeem ourselves.”

Cassie shifted in her seat. “Well, this is an interesting conversation, but I need to set up some things for the gardening group.” She stood and picked up her plate so she could take it to the dishwashing crew. “If you or your cousin feel like planting lettuce this afternoon, be sure to stop by.”

Glad for the excuse to get away, she went to the third-floor patio to get ready for the afternoon gardening session. They had salvaged some colorful earthen pots full of weeds and dead begonias. The pots would need to be placed in sunny spots on the deck, and Cassie had to make sure there were enough tools on hand for the entire crew. They were short on actual gardening implements, but there were plenty of serving utensils from the hotel’s banquet facilities that would serve well enough for digging and scooping. As a final preparation, Cassie checked that the rain barrels were full and that there were water pitchers to use in place of watering cans. When she finally set the seed packets out and stepped back to admire her tidy garden setup, she felt a surge of satisfaction.

The gardening detail straggled onto the pool deck, and they spent several pleasant hours in the sunshine, digging out the dead plants from the pots, loosening the soil, planting seeds to the correct depth and smoothing and watering the soil over them. It was quiet, relaxing work, and for the first time in months, Cassie had a sense of genuine pleasure. There was something primal and nurturing about digging in the dirt and watering the seeds. In her mind, she could already see pale green leaves reaching for the sun.

She was dragging a pot to a sunny corner when the swing of the patio door made her stand up straight. Seeing Galahad framed in the doorway, she wiped her muddy hands on her pants. Foolishly, she couldn’t think what to do next and watched him step out onto the wooden deck, carrying a burlap sack. He deposited at her feet with a grin so charming that it left her speechless.

“I found you some potatoes.”

She opened the bag and was overwhelmed by a musty odor and the sight of hundreds of tiny potatoes, bristling with eyes.

“We can plant these, right? Isn’t that what you do once they’re sprouting?”

“Yes,” she said, finding her voice and hating herself for being so tongue-tied in his presence. “We need deep soil for these, though.”

“I was thinking we could bring up some dirt and fill in the pool. It’s not like we use it for swimming, and it’ll probably be safer that way. If a kid falls in, they won’t get hurt.”

Cassie looked at the empty pool and tried to envision it a garden. Being on the third floor, it wasn’t very deep, but it was adequate for their purposes. It had drains, which would be good when the rains came, and if they could get enough soil, it might make a terrific garden. “That would be a lot of dirt to haul up the stairs.”

“Mundo will assign a team,” Galahad said. “We just need to tell him our plan, and he’ll make it happen.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Cassie said, envisioning the swimming pool green with the unfurling leaves of potato plants. She thought, too, of the hash browns, baked potatoes, boiled potatoes and bowls of roasted potatoes they would be able to produce. Anyone could cook a potato, and they stored well. “We’ll get a lot of food out of this. Thanks.”

Galahad shrugged. “Just doing my job. The girls at St. Catherine’s are smart about a lot of things, but didn’t have a clue what to do with sprouting potatoes. They thought they had gone bad and were going to toss them. I pretended to agree they were useless, so they cost us nothing.”

Since there was no more gardening to be done that day, they found a place to store the potatoes and went to find Mundo. “So how’d that venture with St. Catherine’s go?” Cassie asked. “Was the warehouse any good?”

“Not as good as we hoped. A lot of stuff had gone bad — really bad, not just sprouting like the potatoes. But the girls are interested in joining our alliance, so something came out of it, at least. They’ve lost a few kids to the Obits and want to put a stop to it.”

“Does anyone know who these Obits are or what they look like?”

“They wear black uniforms and have vans and transport trucks. But other than that, no one knows much. We don’t even know if they have a real name. Kids started calling them Obits because every time they show up, it’s bad news. They work fast, don’t talk to anyone and are only interested in young children. Some of the St. Catherine’s girls think they might be cannibals, since they never steal food.”

“Do you really think kids would eat each other?”

“A lot of weird things are happening out there. Anything is possible.”

By now, they were at one of the spiral staircases and started heading down, dodging a few children playing ball on the steps.

“Don’t tell me there’s no school again,” Galahad told them. “You want to grow up to be a bunch of illiterates?”

A sullen girl with snot caked under her nose glared up at him. “We ain’t going to grow up, so who cares?”

“Yeah,” a boy agreed, bouncing the ball and catching it. “And even if we do, we’ll just die.”

“Everyone dies,” Galahad said. “It’s no reason not to plan for the future.”

The children gave him disbelieving looks and returned to their game.

Once they were out of earshot, Galahad said, “I’m seeing a lot of this attitude in the city. It’s a bad sign when little kids live like they expect to die tomorrow.”

“You can’t blame them,” Cassie said.

“Says who?”

Cassie gave him a look.

“Yeah, I know.” He ducked his head. “I shouldn’t judge, since I was as bad as any of them in the first couple months. I figured what the hell, who cares any more? But we’ve got to move on. We’ve got to at least try.”

“That’s easy for us to say.” They were now in the lobby, heading toward Conference Suite A. “We’re grownups.”

“I guess we are, aren’t we?” He knocked on the conference room door. “Who’d have thought?”

Excerpt from Cassie’s journal:

We planted lettuce and tomatoes today, and Galahad found us a sack of seed potatoes. Mundo is organizing a bucket brigade to bring up soil to fill in the pool, and I convinced Sandra to let her kitchen staff bring their knives out to the deck later this week to cut up the potatoes for planting.

It’s a good feeling to plant things in the ground, and not just because I know it means food later on. There’s something about the sun and dirt that I like. It feels like hope, like we have confidence in the future.

I think all of us felt the same way because we gardeners sat together at dinner and the sadness, anger, and vicious gossip of the other kids didn’t affect us. While children whined and kids my age flirted, argued and flaunted their weird new jewelry made from bits of plastic signs, we discussed our potato garden and felt optimistic for the first time in I don’t know how long.

After dinner, Galahad said I seemed happy. We hung out for a little while near the stairs, and he asked if I wanted more plants. Oh, hell yes, I do! And then I want–

Enough. I’ll be grateful for what I have and not wear myself out wishing for more.

Chapter Six

Dirt collection for the potato garden began after breakfast, and Cassie immediately saw that even if all went well, it would be a long process. The nearest source of dirt was a park several blocks away, and it would have to be brought on foot because the shuttle couldn’t be spared.

“Potatoes in a couple months will be damn useless if we’re dead because we didn’t look for something we can eat today,” David told her.

“We’ll bring back as much dirt as we have room for,” Galahad added. “And if we find some extra gasoline, maybe we can do a separate run.”

“If you can get some soil from a nursery, that would be best,” Cassie said.

David rolled his eyes. “We’ve got no time to be going to anyplace that isn’t likely to have food or batteries.”

“But what about fertilizer?”

“Use shit. There’s plenty of it around here.”

When Leila came to the driveway to see the shuttle off, Cassie raised her eyebrows. “Your boyfriend has a crude sense of humor.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“You’ve been out late with him two nights in a row.”

“That doesn’t make him my boyfriend.” Leila jerked her chin in the direction of a utility cart loaded with empty buckets and laundry sacks. “Can we go? I want to get out of here before Paul finds me and starts pestering me about Jesus.”

“He likes you,” Cassie said as they wheeled the cart into the street. “And he’s probably a better long-term bet than a guy like David. Galahad says–”

“What guy wouldn’t put in a good word for his cousin?” Leila maneuvered their cart around a fallen traffic light. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You’ve been spending time with Galahad.”

Cassie felt her cheeks grow warm. “There’s nothing between us. And it’s not like we disappear for half the night. Anyone can see we’re only talking.”

Both girls held their breath as they passed the reeking garage where they and other groups had been dumping their trash, but once they were past, Leila scanned the streets with a purposeful air. Suspecting she was interested in more than the litter, pigeons and occasional kids walking around, Cassie asked what she was looking for. “We’re not in much danger. Things have been quiet lately, and we’ve got no trade goods.”

Leila frowned at the darkened shop windows. “They say the girl who makes that plastic jewelry has her shop around here. I thought maybe we could take a look.”

“Why? You’ve got plenty of real jewelry.”

“But gold and diamonds are common as dirt since everyone looted the jewelry stores. This girl May makes things that are different. Every piece is unique.”

“But why would you want to wear part of a McDonald’s sign or traffic light?”

Leila sighed in annoyance. “It’s the fashion, okay?”

“We’ve got more important things to worry about than fashion.”

“Lighten up, will you? You used to be fun.”

“And you used to give a damn about things that mattered.”

Both girls lapsed into sullen silence, not even bothering to whisper to each other when they passed a bakery that had been taken over by the Pharms and turned into a drug kiosk. They nodded politely at the painted children out front chanting what the store had to offer, turning away when one boy screeched after them, “You’ll be back! You’ll get lockjaw or rabies, and you’ll be back!”

“See?” Leila said once they were out of earshot. “If you don’t have a protector out here, you’ll die. So it’s either find someone with influence or say screw it and have a good time until we all die, anyway.”

“That’s not the right attitude,” Cassie said, remembering Galahad’s words of the night before. “We have a civilization to think of. This is about something bigger than our own survival.”

“Listen to you — you’re becoming an idealist.” Leila was about to say more but suddenly tugged the cart hard to the right. “There it is! Let’s go check it out.”

Cassie squinted at the shop ahead, its bare canopy frame hung with colorful streamers, chains of broken glass that clattered in the breeze and a sign that said, “May’s Creations.” “We haven’t got time. How about we come back once we’ve got the potatoes planted?”

“It’ll be weeks before we get enough dirt to plant potatoes, and this will only take a minute.”

Curious in spite of herself, Cassie consented. It had been a long time since she had been inside a store that was not only open for business but dedicated to selling things of no practical value. Since their cart contained nothing of interest to thieves, they left it under the awning frame and approached the door, pausing to read the sign, which warned in strictest terms that the shop was under guard and troublemakers would be dealt with. Wondering what kind of guards the place had, Cassie opened the door and looked inside.

The shop was small and dim, partially lit by sunlight from the grimy windows and illuminated in the dark corners by solar-charged lanterns and glowing glass bowls, each a different color. It was these bowls that made Leila draw in her breath in delight, and she nudged Cassie out of the way as she took a few tentative steps inside.

Cassie saw no guards or even a shopkeeper. She looked around in confusion, distracted by the lights, the streamers, the chains of colorful plastic beads and the chimes and mobiles that had obviously been made from old street signs and shattered mirrors. She was beginning to wonder if it was an elaborate trap of some kind when a slim Asian girl emerged from a back room. She was dressed in practical jeans and a sweater, but her long hair was tied up in fanciful loops and braids, accented with scraps of colored cellophane. Her face was painted in elaborate designs that included a butterfly on one pale cheek.

At the sight of Cassie and Leila in the doorway, she smiled. “Feel free to look around and ask questions. I make everything here myself.”

While Leila examined necklaces and earrings, Cassie peered at a globe that glowed faintly blue. It was too dim to make a reading light, but in her mind, she saw the dark halls and stairwells of the hotel and tried to imagine what they might look like illuminated with globes glowing red, blue and yellow. “What makes it light up?” she asked.

“Chemicals,” May said.

“How long do they last? And what do they cost?”

“Depends on the color. Some last up to twelve hours, some only four or five. They’re priced at one food can per four hours.” At the look of disappointment on Cassie’s face, May added, “Satisfaction guaranteed. I’ll replace anything that doesn’t work as promised.”

“It’s not that. I was just thinking what great nightlights they’d make, but they’re not much use to us if they have to be replaced every night. Are these like chemical light sticks, then? Any chance you can tell us how to make them?”

Before May could answer, Leila interrupted, holding up an amber plastic pendant. “How much for this?”

May went to take a closer look. “The acid-etchings cost two cans of food. Or four batteries.”

“No chance you’d take a diamond?” Leila held out a ring-studded hand.

May shook her head. “I’ve got diamonds. If you could find me some more chemicals, though, so I wouldn’t be so dependent on the Pharms, that would be nice.”

Cassie had been examining an acid-etched piece of glass, and now she stood up straight. “You have dealings with the Pharms?”

“A girl’s got to finance her creative ventures somehow. You don’t think I’m surviving off selling traffic light necklaces, do you? They give me chemicals and protection; I make some of their simpler compounds, like menthol and extracted iodine.”

“So can we buy medicines from you directly?”

“No way. Me and the Pharms have an agreement. You’re welcome to buy anything you see on my shelves, but that’s it. Nothing else I do is for sale.”

“I understand,” Cassie said. She turned to Leila, who was leaning into a mirror to examine the way a pair of glass-chip earrings glittered in her ears. “Come on. We need to get to the park.”

“But I like these.”

“So buy them, if you’ve got something she wants. Otherwise, let’s go. They’re waiting for us.”

With a frown of disappointment, Leila laid the earrings on the velvet scarf where she had found them. “I’ll find some trade goods,” she told May. “And I’ll come back.”

* * *

When they got to the park, they found the other members of their group huddled under a tree, shovels and half-full buckets of earth abandoned. A few of the younger children were crying, and the older ones were trying to calm them down.

“It’s okay,” a girl named Riley insisted. “It was just your imagination.”

“An ordinary van,” said Parker, one of the guards. “And even if it was them, what do you think I’m here for? Decoration?”

“What’s going on?” Cassie asked. Between the wailing children and Leila’s preference for shopping, they’d be lucky to get so much as a single bucket of dirt collected.

“Brats thought they saw some Obits,” Parker said. “As if they would go driving around in broad daylight or something.”

“But it was them!” a boy insisted. “You just don’t want to admit it. You’re scared, too!”

“I am not. They don’t want me. Just little ones like you.”

“Stop that,” Cassie said. “You’re upsetting them.” She looked at each of the younger children in turn. “There’s no more vans, and we’re here to protect you. Now let’s dig so we can go back to the hotel and plant potatoes.”

Two children picked up their shovels and sullenly poked at the ground, but the youngest ones stared at her, unmoved.

“See?” Parker said. “They’re hopeless. Might as well let the Obits have them. It’ll be fewer people to eat potatoes.”

“You wouldn’t say that if my father was here!” a girl said.

“But he isn’t, is he?” Parker smirked. “He’s rotting in a pit like all the others.” He began walking across the grass, back toward the hotel.

Shrieking, some of the children ran after him while the ones who remained stared at Cassie with big eyes. Although she would’ve liked to have screamed with frustration, too, Cassie forced herself to take a breath. “Let’s get to work,” she said, gesturing toward the shovels. “I promise you’ll be safe.”

* * *

Their first load of dirt was so pitiful in relation to the size of the swimming pool that Cassie wanted to cry. It didn’t help that the youngest children refused to return to the park, fearing Obits. Since they were slow workers and not very strong, Cassie told herself it didn’t matter. She and Leila rounded up the older children, and they made two more trips, not collecting enough dirt to fill even a single corner to the depth that would be required. Discouraged, Cassie sat on the edge of the pool in the late afternoon sunlight, wondering what to do next.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

She turned to see Galahad walking toward her, a plastic bag of potting soil balanced on one shoulder. As he approached the pool and peered in, she watched his face for a reaction.

He stared for a long moment at the inadequate scattering of dirt, then ripped open his plastic bag and tossed in the rich black soil. “I’ve got two more downstairs,” he said. “But it looks like we’ll need a different strategy if we’re going to have a garden before we’re old enough for the Telo to get us.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Too bad we can’t do this in one of the parks.”

“Too dangerous. And someone would likely come along and dig them up, anyway. But there’s got to be a way to make this work.” Galahad squinted at the pool. “Couldn’t we just bring in enough dirt to make rows, with walkways in between?”

“How would we keep the dirt in place? If we pile it up, it’ll erode when we water the plants.”

“There’s all kinds of scrap around. We could make boxes of some kind.”

Cassie considered. “If there was proper drainage, it might work.”

“Maybe Sid could design something for us.” When Cassie hesitated, he added, “I’m sure he likes potatoes as much as anyone else. Since he considers himself an engineer, it should be an easy job for him.”

They went downstairs and found Sid in the lobby doing things with foil and cardboard boxes. “Getting too warm outside to keep building a fire in the kitchen grill,” he explained. “Heats up the whole damn place, not to mention it’s always been a fire and carbon monoxide danger. So we’re going to start testing solar box cookers as soon as I get a few made.”

“My family had one at our retreat,” Cassie said, taking a closer look. “I didn’t know they could be made with foil.” Seeing some plans on a coffee table, she picked them up. “This looks familiar. What are you going to use for the window part?”

“There’s broken glass everywhere,” Sid said with a wave of his hand. “And if it doesn’t suit, I’ll break more.”

“What we actually came here for,” Galahad said, “was to talk to you about our potato garden.”

Sid fixed him with a withering look. “I’m an engineer, not a farmer or landscape designer.”

“And if you want something to cook in your shiny box, you’ll help us out. Consider it civil engineering.”

They locked eyes, and Sid looked away first. “Okay. But if I help you design something, that doesn’t mean I’m going to build it for you, too. And I’ll need some help with these box cookers to compensate me for my time.”

“I’ll help,” Cassie said. “I know what they’re supposed to look like, so it’s no trouble. I’ll even help teach Sandra and them how to use them.”

Reluctantly, Sid got to his feet. “Okay, show me this potato project.”

Excerpt from Cassie’s journal:

The potato garden isn’t going to work as planned, but this afternoon, Sid made a sketch of how we could do it with a lot less dirt than we originally thought. It’ll have rows of boxed-in areas with the soil built up to about two feet inside, surrounded by walkways on the concrete floor of the pool. Each box will have drainage holes at the bottom so the roots don’t rot and the water will run down the drain in the pool. The design is a good one, since it means we’ll be able to walk around all the plants to weed and water. And the sides of the boxes will pull away at harvest time so we don’t have to dig.

Galahad says there’s materials in the hotel’s storage areas that we can use to build the boxes, but it got late and we didn’t have a chance to go down there. He’s going to have David and some of the other foragers help him in the morning, and Sid promised to be on hand in the afternoon to guide us in putting the first one or two boxes together. That will give the rest of us time to get more dirt and for me to help finish building the solar cookers like I promised.

Other than that some of the kids thought they saw Obits this morning, it was a good day. Galahad even sat with me at dinner, and Leila was civil to Paul, who can’t take his eyes off her. Poor Paul! He’s so in love, and she’s so not interested.

Chapter Seven

As the days grew warmer, so grew Cassie’s pool garden. Each morning, she walked the rows, rejoicing in the green sprouts poking out of the soil. She and her more dedicated gardeners devised a soil-building area where they added waste and worms, turning the soil as needed to prepare it for when the new boxes would be built, so there would be enough good soil to fill them.

She consulted her latest gardening book, trying not to worry that they were planting many of their seeds too late. Anything was better than nothing, and they had to make the effort. The new solar cookers on the far side of the deck were an asset to their garden, since scraps from meal preparation could be added to the compost pile to enrich the soil.

Of all her plants, Cassie treasured her potted roses the most. Dug up from the zoo gardens and planted in plastic buckets along a patio railing, they were starting to bud again after Cassie had pruned them. She remembered the look of disgust on David’s face as he deposited a rosebush at her feet, saying, “This is so we can grow vitamin C, got it? Chicks don’t get flowers from me.”

“Of course,” Cassie said, knowing from Leila what David would and would not give.

Galahad had given her a rose bush, too, its roots and bundled soil wrapped in a scrap of plaid flannel. “Feel free to enjoy mine when they bloom,” he said. “In fact, I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”

Of course, that plant had become her favorite. It was the first she checked on in the morning, it was the one that got a bit of extra coffee grounds or fertilizer when she had it to spare, and it was the last one she looked at before cleaning up for dinner, touching a leaf for luck before going inside.

But this morning, the carrots were of greater concern than the roses. Cassie drew some of the younger gardeners to the planters on the deck and tried to show them the difference between the carrots and the weeds. “We need to thin them out,” she said. “Otherwise, there won’t be room for the carrots to grow big.”

At the sound of footsteps on the wooden deck, Cassie looked up, but it was only Leila, her new earrings of silvered glass glittering in the morning sun. David wasn’t one to give gifts, but he occasionally allowed Leila access to foraged goods, and she took them in trade to May for new jewelry. As always, though, Leila wanted more.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” she said. She looked at the planter and the children crowded around it. “Shouldn’t they be practicing their reading or something?”

Cassie wiped her muddy hands on her new gardening smock. “I’m beginning to think this sort of thing will be a lot more useful to them in the end. They only need to read well enough to understand how-to books. Shakespeare and Tolstoy won’t be much help.”

“What about perpetuating our ‘great civilization’ as you and Galahad like to talk about?”

“There will always be a few scholars to keep the higher knowledge alive, just like in the Middle Ages. But if everybody starves to death. . .”

Leila tossed her head, and her earrings jingled. “Right. That’s why we’re taking May a solar cooker — so she won’t starve or poison herself and deprive us of the civilizing influence of art and jewelry.”

* * *

At Cassie’s insistence, they took a utility cart as well as some shovels and bags for collecting dirt. “It would be stupid to go halfway to the park and not bring back soil for the garden,” she pointed out. “Besides, we can hide the box cooker under the empty sacks on the way to May’s. That way no one will try to steal it from us.”

“Like any of those street kids would know what a box cooker was,” Leila said. But she agreed to the plan, and soon they were off.

The streets were quiet, but the stench of rot and sewage was stronger than usual. “We may have to move to higher floors of the hotel,” Cassie said. “To get away from the smell and the flies.”

“David says they still plan to burn some of it.”

Cassie gave Leila a skeptical look. “If they do, I hope it’s on a day when the wind will blow the smoke away from us. The smell of burning trash and bodies is disgusting.”

“At least it would only be for a day,” Leila pointed out. “Unlike letting everything rot forever.”

When they arrived at May’s shop, they found it in disarray, with May pacing the floor, cursing. “Bastards! I was only gone half an hour!”

“Who did it?” Cassie asked. “And what did they take?”

“It’s not so much what they did out here.” She gestured at the shop, which was untidy but didn’t appear to be missing much. “It’s what they did in back.”

“Did they take your acids?” Leila asked in concern.

“The acids, the bases, some of my catalytic metals, and what they didn’t take they tried to destroy.”

“Who are ‘they?’” Cassie asked, but Leila shushed her and took May by the arm, speaking in reassuring tones.

Cassie followed them into a back room that was equal parts laboratory and art studio. Shattered glass lay everywhere, and strange chemicals spilled over counters and onto floors. One of the liquids had flowed into contact with a gray powder, and together they were fizzling into the countertop. Leila and May were talking chemicals with an earnestness that Cassie found dizzying. It was the first time since the Telo that she had seen Leila use her brain for anything more than fashion, bitterness and trying to find a boyfriend. And until now, Cassie hadn’t fully grasped the depth of May’s knowledge of chemistry.

On the other side of the room were half-finished art projects, including jewelry, paintings and an attempt at a sculpture. Cassie was staring at a mosaic of shattered traffic lights, trying to make these disparate clues about May’s character fit together in her mind, when she heard the word “Pharms” and turned around.

“I told you they weren’t reliable,” Leila was telling May. “David says a lot of them are former KDS — Kevorks. They’re only out for themselves, so if the Obits are offering a better deal–”

“No,” May said. “It’s not like that. The Pharms aren’t deserting to the Obits, they’re working for them. Gang-for-hire sort of thing.”

“Well, what they’re offering must be pretty good,” Cassie said, trying to pick up the thread of the conversation. “You make basic meds for them to sell, and you’d think they’d find that valuable enough to protect.”

“Only thing I can think is that the Obits have a drug connection of some sort,” May said. “Maybe they’re large-scale dealers.”

The girls pondered, looking glumly at the shattered vials and broken equipment.

“So who do you think did all this?” Cassie asked again. “What were they after?”

May shook her head in dismay, and Leila patted her shoulder.

“Could’ve been anyone,” Leila said.

“But crimes don’t happen for no reason. Who knew she didn’t have protection today?”

“No one I can think of,” May said.

“Maybe one of the Pharms tipped off a friend,” Cassie suggested. “Or maybe they want to scare you.”

“Maybe,” May said in a doubtful way. “I think someone just saw an opportunity.” She rubbed her painted cheek, smearing an artistic butterfly into a blob. “I guess I’ll find out if the Pharms were involved when they come back from their mission.” She gave Leila and Cassie a weak smile. “If they care about the work I do for them, they’ll give me back my guard.”

“Where did they go, anyway?” Cassie asked, already suspecting the answer.

May gave a resigned shrug. “They’re kidnapping children for the Obits.”

* * *

When they got back to the hotel, they hurried to tell Mundo what they had heard. A guard let them into Conference Suite A, where the first thing that caught the girls’ attention was something in the center of the conference table that was clearly a cake, even though it was lopsided and lumpy with only a thin scraping of frosting on top. Over stubby glasses of whiskey, Mundo was talking to Alex and a young man in a blue costume that looked like a Civil War uniform. The three looked up as Cassie and Leila stepped into the room, and the soldier touched the bill of his forage cap in greeting.

“We heard some news about the Obits today,” Cassie said.

Mundo motioned for the girls to sit, and after they had settled themselves in stained plush swivel chairs, they related what they had seen in May’s shop and what she had told them.

“Interesting,” said the Thespian soldier, rubbing his chin. “I wonder what the Obits have that’s good enough to tempt a Pharm.”

“Drugs, gasoline, ammo?” Alex offered. “There’s a lot they could be offering.”

“The more important question,” Mundo said, “is where the Obits are getting it, whatever it is.”

“It would be nice to find a new source of goods, that’s for sure,” Alex said.

“Even if it’s not something we want,” the Thespian agreed. “There’s always trade.”

While the boys mulled the possibilities, the girls eyed the cake with naked hunger. Cassie was on the point of asking if she could have just a tiny slice when the door to the back room of the suite opened and Doc stepped out. At Mundo’s questioning look, he said, “Blood pressure is high, but other than that, she’s fine, as near as I can tell.” He shut the door behind him and lowered his voice. “The book listed some possibilities I don’t like, but since we can’t do anything about it, the best thing is for Nisha to rest, take her vitamins and drink plenty of water. She should make sure the water is good. Run it through the filter, even if you think it looks okay.” He glanced at the girls. “I don’t suppose either of you has had a baby or knows someone still alive who has?”

Cassie and Leila shook their heads.

“Well,” Doc shrugged. “She’s young and basically healthy, so we’ll do what we can and try not to let her get too anxious. Worrying would only make things worse. For her and for you.” He was looking at Mundo now.

Mundo nodded in agreement and turned to the Thespian. “Anyone in your group experienced with babies?” When the soldier made a gesture of bewilderment, Mundo said, “Ask around if you get the chance. This will be my first kid and the first Regent baby. I want it born healthy.”

Talk returned to speculation about Pharms and Obits, but Mundo noticed Leila and Cassie seemed bored. “If that’s all you have for us, no need to stick around.”

The girls stood up, still looking at the cake.

“Go ahead,” he told them. “You’ve done good work today.”

Excerpt from Cassie’s journal:

Things are getting weird. Somebody trashed May’s lab, but not in a systematic way that would’ve done them much good. It was almost like they were looking for something and, when they didn’t find it, they got mad. May acted like she didn’t know who did it, but there was something about the way she acted that made me think she had a pretty good idea who targeted her and why.

One of Mundo’s girlfriends — the pregnant one — is having complications. Poor Doc! He has no idea what to do and neither does anyone else. Doc just turned fifteen a couple months ago. I bet he’s never even been with a girl, and it must be hard for him to examine Nisha, being clueless not only about pregnancy but about females in general.

I have mixed feelings about seeing a girl my age having a baby. If the human race is to survive, we’re the only ones who can do it, even though we won’t live to see our kids grow up. But is it right to try to carry on? What if the Telo never goes away and life ends somewhere around eighteen for everyone, forever? In that case, it would be best for no one to have babies and for us all to die out. I know it’s a bad thing to think, but I can’t help myself. The only reason to keep trying is in the hope the disease will mutate or we’ll become immune.

That’s what Galahad says, at any rate. He says the reason the Black Death became le