Page 28 of The Last Stars in the Sky
I walk toward the guy in the vest, the space between my shoulder blades prickling with awareness of feeling seen, even though I’m not sure I actually am. I manage a smile, although the guy doesn’t look entirely friendly; he’s a bit too officious for that, brandishing his megaphone like it gives him some kind of power.
“Hi there,” I say. “What’s going on?”
“We’re distributing food,” he replies curtly. “Get in line and you’ll receive a box.”
“Really?” I’m heartened by this; the world hasn’t turned dog-eats-dog apocalyptic quite yet. Humanity has not descended tobarbarity the way Daniel seemed to think it would. People are still trying to help each other.
“We figured it was better to give the food out fairly than have it looted,” the man replies flatly. “That’s happening everywhere as it is.”
“Is it? Do you know anything?” I ask. “Do you have any news?”
The man shrugs again, more of a jerk of his shoulder. “Nobody really knows anything. The prime minister hasn’t spoken or been seen. Some say Toronto and Vancouver were hit.”
“Toronto?” That’s only about two hundred and fifty miles away. A visceral shudder goes through me.
“That’s what they’re saying. There’s no hydro, no water, no internet anywhere. And someone said the army at Petawawa has been mobilized.”
“To do what?” How do you fight a nuclear bomb, except with another nuclear bomb?
“Who knows?” He jerks a thumb. “You should get in line if you want a box. It’s not going to last forever.”
“We heard the president of the US on the radio,” I tell him, my tone insistent, a little bit whiny. “He said things would be up and running in a few days.”
The man guffaws, and then spits on the ground, a bit too close to my boot. “I don’t think so.”
Which was exactly what Daniel said.Daniel. If he were here, he would take control of the situation; he would be the steadying presence I crave, now that it has been taken from me. Instead,Ihave to be it, and I feel myself failing at every turn. “Thank you,” I tell the man, and he gives a brusque nod.
Back in the truck, I tell everyone what I’ve learned.
“We need to get some of the food,” Kerry says immediately.
“We have a lot already—” I begin, only for her to give me a scornfully incredulous look.
“We could always use more.”
Which is true, absolutely, and yet some deep-seated, half-forgotten altruistic notion, already from another age, compels me to persist, “But others need it more than we do—”
“Are you kidding me?” She leans forward, getting in my face. It takes effort not to jerk back. “We have five people to provide for, and most people here know how to hunt, fish, trap, all that. They’ll befine.”
“Don’t you know how to hunt?” I ask, and she snorts in derision, which I take for a no. I almost feel like laughing because why on earth did I ask this woman to live with me? I thought she—or really, her mother—could teach me something, but so far, the only lesson I’ve learned is to look out for yourself, and I think I knew that one already. But Kerry is right; if they’re offering boxes of food, we ought to get one.
“All right,” I tell everyone. “We’ll line up for food.”
Kerry is already shaking her head. “That line could take hours. There’s got to be a hundred people in it. We don’t have time.”
“But you just said—” I begin in exasperation, only to have Kerry cut me off.
“We’ll have to split up.”
“Split up…” I speak incredulously because if Kerry thinks I’m letting her go off with my truck…
She nods. “I need someone to come with me, and then two people can stay here.”
Kerry hasn’t even told me where she’s going, why she’ll need a pair of bolt cutters. I hesitate and, in that second’s uncertainty, Mattie speaks softly into the silence.
“I’ll stay here and get the food,” she says. “I can wait in the line.”
“Not by yourself—” I retort. Absolutely not. Not in this Armageddon universe.
