"Things?" Alex said.

"Bugs," Julie replied. "I thought it would be wrong to throw it out, so I never did."

"We can eat that," Alex said. "People eat bugs all the time."

"Yuck," Julie said.

"It's better than starving," Alex said. "Besides, it's only until Friday. We'll get our bags of food then. And maybe Vincent de Paul will open again by Monday. We really just have to get through today, tomorrow, and Thursday and we'll be all right."

"We still have to cook the macaroni," Julie said.

"Oh," Alex said. "How do you do that?"

Julie shook her head. "You're totally useless," she said. "Even Carlos knows how to boil water."

"So you boil water and you cook the macaroni in that?" Alex asked. "That doesn't sound too hard."

"It isn't," Julie replied. "Except the stove hasn't worked in weeks. Bri's done all the cooking in the microwave when there's been electricity. Which there isn't anymore, in case you hadn't noticed."

"It's not my fault there hasn't been electricity since the storm and the stove doesn't work and I don't know how to cook," Alex said. "How long will the can of beans last us?"

"Depends whether we eat it or just look at it," Julie said.

"You boil water in a pot, right?" Alex said. "Over a flame."

"Yeah," Julie said.

"Well, we have the pot," Alex said. "And we still have running water. So the only thing we don't have is the flame."

"We could set fire to the apartment," Julie said. "Then we'd have the flame and we'd be warm for a change."

"Fire," Alex said. "We'll make a fire."

"Inside the apartment?" Julie asked. "Like a campfire?"

Alex shook his head. "We can't expose Bri to the smoke," he said. "We'll build the fire in one of the other apartments. In the sink. And we'll put the pot on top of it and the water'll boil and we'll have macaroni and beans."

"And bugs," Julie said, but Alex could hear the excitement and relief in her voice. "We don't have any firewood, though. What can we burn?"

"Magazines," Alex replied. "There are plenty of those left behind."

"We'd better boil lots of water," Julie said. "We're almost out of the water Bri boiled in the microwave. She boiled lots every afternoon, so we'd have it for an emergency, but we've pretty much used it all."

"You and Bri have taken really good care of me, haven't you," Alex said.

"It wasn't so bad before the snowstorm," Julie replied. "Bri used to thaw our suppers in the microwave when we were in school. Now we keep the cans in our sleeping bag."

Alex thought about how often he'd felt burdened by his sisters. But he'd been as dependent on them for survival as they were on him. "It's only for a couple more weeks," he said. "We'll get on the next convoy. And Friday there'll be food. Until then, we'll eat macaroni and beans."

"And bugs," Julie said. "Oh well. It's better than nothing."

Friday, December 16

Alex would have preferred to keep Julie home on Friday, but they needed the two bags of food. They'd finished the macaroni and beans by lunchtime the day before, and with the minimal amount of food in each bag, there was no way they could survive on what he alone would bring home.

There was nothing in any of the apartments left to barter. Alex had searched carefully at first and then frantically all Wednesday and Thursday. He'd done it by candlelight since all the flashlight batteries had burned out. They still had two candles left and half a box of matches.

Mostly they slept. Alex wasn't sure whether that was good for them or not, but there was nothing else to do, and he figured they probably burned fewer calories that way. He saw to it that Julie prayed during her waking moments. Prayer came naturally to Bri, so that was no problem.

Everything was gone, used over months of bartering for cans of beans and bags of rice. The only things Alex could think of to bring to Harvey were the coat he was wearing and a bottle of aspirin he'd insisted on holding on to.

That wasn't true and he knew it. While he'd traded practically everything he'd found in the medicine cabinets, he'd kept a half dozen prescription sleeping pills, so if he ever had to, he could drug Bri and Julie and smother them while they were sleeping. He was sure they'd be in a state of grace when they died and that was what mattered.

He told himself not to go crazy, that Julie could figure out how to stretch two bags of food for ten days, or maybe the quarantine would be over and Vincent de Paul would reopen. If they could just make it to December 26, they had a chance.

He hated seeing how weak Julie had gotten. He knew she'd been taking less food for herself so that Bri could have a little more. Silently he begged her forgiveness for ever complaining about her.

There was no one on line when they got to the school. They both knew what that meant, but they walked up to the door anyway.

FOOD DELIVERIES SUSPENDED INDEFINITELY

Alex stared at the sign. What did "indefinitely" mean? Was it just until the quarantine ended? Or had the plug been pulled on the city? And if the city had been left to die, did that mean the convoys had stopped altogether? He willed Julie to start crying. Maybe if he had to comfort her, he wouldn't feel so helpless, so terrified, himself.

But Julie never did what he wanted her to, and this time was no exception. "It doesn't matter," she said instead. "It wouldn't have been enough."

"You're probably right," Alex said.

They began the walk home. "I'll try Harvey," he said. "I have my coat and a bottle of aspirin. Maybe he'll give me something for that."

"How can you survive without your coat?" Julie asked.

"I can manage," Alex said. "I'll just walk around wrapped in a blanket. Maybe you and Bri can figure out a way of making it more like a coat for when we go back to Port Authority, so my arms will be free to pull the sled."

Julie stood absolutely still. "I don't think we're going to need the sled," she whispered, as though there was anyone within five blocks to hear her.

"We'll need it for Bri," Alex said.

"She's down to her last cartridge," Julie said softly. "She's been using it for a couple of weeks. Sometimes at night she coughs and she doesn't use it and I think she'll die right then in the sleeping bag."

"Bri isn't going to die," Alex said. "We'll be on the convoy in less than two weeks. We just need enough food to keep us going until then."

"You sound like her," Julie said. "When she goes on about Mami and Papi still being alive."

"It's different," Alex said. "We can't do anything about Mami and Papi. But we can still keep ourselves alive. Including Bri."

"Would it help if you took my coat?" Julie asked. "It's too big for me anyway."

"Keep your coat," Alex said. "Maybe next week we'll bring it to Harvey."

They walked in silence until they got back to their building. "I'm not afraid to die," Julie said. "I figure I'm going to know more people in heaven than I do on earth anyway. Mami and Papi and Kevin. Lots of people. I just don't want to be the last one to die. That's what scares me most, that you and Bri will both die and I'll be all alone."

"That won't happen," Alex said.

Julie stared up at him, with that strange combination of extreme youth and unnatural aging. "Promise?" she said.

"Promise," he said. He hated the thought of climbing the twelve flights of stairs, but he hadn't taken the bottle of aspirin with him and he had to get it. It took them twice as long to get up the stairs as it had the week before. He didn't know how on the twenty-sixth he'd manage to carry Bri down the stairs to the sled.

She was sleeping when they got in and her breathing was labored. When her cartridge ran out, Alex told himself, that night he'd find the strength to give them the pills. They'd die peacefully and that was the best anyone could hope for.