Page 62 of The End of the World As We Know It
“Everyone’s dead,” she said. “Mom. My brothers. Dad lives somewhere else, but he hasn’t called.”
Baker didn’t comment.
The girl wiped her nose. “You sick?”
He thought it over. The sweating, the weariness.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
She lowered her eyes. “Don’t know if I am, either. I don’t feel very good.”
“Had any sleep?”
“Some. I keep dreaming of a cornfield.”
Baker glanced at her sharply and again experienced that magnetic westward tug. He wondered if she’d be comfortable in the wagon, should the roads become impassible.
What he said was “Are you hungry?”
She shrugged. Nodded.
He moved aside so she could see the wagon. “I’ve got Nutter Butters.”
She frowned. “What are those?”
“Health food.”
Her eyes seemed a bit livelier. “Wanna come in?”
Baker took in the shininess on her upper lip, the bruisy discoloration under her eyes. Maybe the girl had it. Maybe she didn’t. In the end, it didn’t really matter.
He mulled it over. Gazed up at the brilliant blue sky and remembered the one who’d saved him at the end of the world. “Okay, Lenora,” he murmured.
He faced the little girl, who watched him with large brown eyes.
“What’s your name?” he asked her.
“Juliet. What’s yours?”
“Baker. Want to help me with these cookies?”
Now she did give him a smile. Just a small one.
She held the door open for him, and he towed the wagon into the house.
THE HOPE BOAT
Gabino Iglesias
Sandra knows the way to the beach, but she has no clue how long it will take her to get there on foot. It’s probably only ten or twelve miles from her house. Puerto Rico is only a hundred miles long by thirty-five miles wide, so everyone is somewhat close to the beach. But ten or twelve miles on foot is still a lot of miles. Sandra used to walk almost four miles in just under an hour, but that was before she got pregnant, back when her friend Margaret was all about power walking and salads. It might take her more than fifteen minutes to complete a mile now. Maybe twenty? A little longer? That would make it a three-hour walk, give or take. But that would be under normal circumstances, and circumstances haven’t been normal for a while now.
Make it four hours, then, but go. Go now. You have time.
The thought scares her. Going anywhere now is like venturing out into a jungle full of predators. Psychos. Scavengers. Sick people who have lost their minds. They’re all out there. Still, it could be worth a shot if the information she received is true. It’s early now, but she must be at the beach by midday if she wants to hop on the rescue boat. Althoughrescueis too big a word. It feels like an impossibleword, something that should be cut from the dictionary.Rescue boatsounds like someone is in control.Tell them you have hope.That’s what Mercedes said.Hopeis a good word here.Hope boatsounds more accurate thanrescue boat. It could also be desperate boat. Last chance boat. Boat to freedom. Those are better.
The voice in Sandra’s head sounds a lot like her mother. It’s been there all her life, but it’s been much more present lately. It’s her only companion, and Sandra is glad for its presence, but she often wonders if she’s losing her mind. The way things have gone, it wouldn’t surprise her.
The trip from Sandra’s house to the beach was always a joyful one, but thinking about it now hurts. Baby Angie usually wore her favorite bathing suit, a bright pink one that was the cutest thing Sandra had ever seen. It had a circle of tiny blue fish on the chest that always made Sandra think of her beautiful daughter as a minuscule superhero. Super Baby, devourer of cookies. Her superpower? A natural aversion to naps, a million-watt smile, and more energy than the Energizer Bunny. This trip won’t have any of that, but the idea of staying in a house with two bodies, no food, no water, no electricity, and no chance of being rescued is even less appealing.
