Chapter 2 Lissa #2
“Affirmative. The provisional government in DC has finally given the order for a full-scale evacuation of the West. There was an announcement yesterday. Where were you?”
She’d been out, and none of the residents of 6B mentioned it when she’d returned.
No surprise there. She didn’t mix much with the others.
Safer that way. “What if I want to stay? I’m waiting for my husband.
” The hollow words left her heart aching.
Derrick’s business trip to San Francisco had probably been his last. California had been ground zero for the largest asteroid impact.
“If he’s not here by now, he’s not coming. Make sure you pack light.” His gaze flicked downward. “No pets on the trucks.”
Lissa clenched her jaw. She wasn’t leaving Mira and Luna—they weren’t just pets.
She’d adopted them as kittens two years ago.
They were family and the only things of value she owned, not including the wedding ring hanging around her neck on a chain.
Derrick had already been missing longer than they’d been married.
“Thanks for the information,” she said, revising her scrounging plan.
She needed to find more portable food than what her cats could catch.
And a better way to carry it than her too-small daypack.
Possible plans to bribe someone to sneak her cats aboard a transport rolled through her mind.
She lifted her chin. She wasn’t leaving without Mira and Luna.
Once past the military trucks and away from the apartment block used to house the refugees for the last sixteen months, she created a new list. She’d need a sleeping bag, more socks, another pair of warm pants, maybe some vitamins, toothpaste, and deodorant.
She had her cats, her knife, and her pack.
What else would she need for the journey east?
She bit her lip and decided to gamble and hunt further afield.
Two hours later, she and her cats, having crossed the boarded-up, empty downtown, reached the deserted streets where rich people used to live in grand houses.
She’d run across this swanky neighborhood a few months ago but had remained on the fringes because of the patrolling soldiers.
Had anyone entered the buildings since the mass exodus?
This area was far enough from the centralized refugee apartments that the houses might have supplies—the occupants having departed in the first wave of evacuation in their loaded cars.
Back when there’d been fuel for anyone besides the army and the gangs.
Her risk in coming this far seemed worth it. Today, the houses were unguarded.
With a glance around, she tried the front doors of the first several houses. Locked. Despite being all alone, she felt too exposed to pick the locks out in the open. She’d try somewhere more discreet. Mira and Luna still trotted nearby at the end of their leashes, probably eager to hunt.
With a glance over her shoulders, she slipped to the left of the current house.
She opened a gate and slid around to the back.
She found a rear door that had already been kicked in, and though it had been pulled closed, it no longer had a solid latch.
Disappointment raced through her. She’d hoped these homes might be untouched.
Still, there might be something of value left inside.
Lissa unclipped the cats’ leashes, stowing them in her jacket pocket.
Though the inside may have been ransacked, she decided to investigate and shoved with her shoulder, the wood frame splintering.
Inside, the air smelled damp and moldy, while fine dust covered every surface.
Fighting through swaths of cobwebs, she stifled a sneeze.
She made a quick inspection of the kitchen, ecstatic to find a portable can opener, two cans of green beans, and another of peaches. Her mouth watered.
Despite the cracked door frame, the place was a treasure trove. Maybe guards had interrupted potential looters at the back entrance.
A scurrying sound in the corner put her cats on alert, and they disappeared, silently fading into the shadows.
Upstairs, she made quick work of finding two pairs of moisture-wicking, thermal socks, and a couple of women’s size medium underwear.
Good enough. She tucked them into her pocket.
When she found a long-sleeved shirt that looked warm, she packed it too.
She used to trade things like this back at the shelter, but no more.
Today was about outfitting herself. She kept moving.
Under a bathroom sink, she located two spare toothbrushes and a still-boxed, not-yet-expired tube of toothpaste.
Lissa returned to the ground floor. Digging through a supply closet, she found a lighter, two boxes of wooden matches, and a bundle of candles.
At the back, behind a mop, she spotted another door.
A box of cleaning supplies blocked the front, like maybe someone had tried to hide the entrance. It piqued her interest.
Clearing the jumble in front, she tried to open the door.
It wasn’t locked, just stuck. She tugged harder, scraping it open.
Cold, dank air and a musty odor rushed out.
A basement? Closing the outer closet door, she left the inner one propped open by an inch, lit a candle, and clomped down the wooden stairs, her flame flickering behind her cupped hand.
Score. Shelves of canned goods. Maybe the owner hadn’t been home to pack when the world had gone to shit. The military scouts must have missed the hidden compartment so hadn’t commandeered these supplies.
Just before she grabbed a can of chili, the floor above creaked. She froze, sweat beading on her forehead. She cocked her head when another step came from above her head.
Someone was upstairs. With the dust and spiderwebs, the house seemed uninhabited. Perhaps someone else trying their luck while the soldiers were distracted. A chill skated down her spine. Or had she been followed?
Heart racing, she doused her flame and held her breath.
One hand gravitated to her matches to feel secure about relighting her candle, the other to her knife on her hip.
Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she made out the faint charcoal outline of the stairs on her right, light coming only through the remaining slit from the hidden door.
Heel to toe, she stepped on soft feet to the corner where the darkness was complete.
Soft scratching noises reminded her she wasn’t alone down here either.
High on a shelf with the canned goods, she caught a faint reddish gleam from tiny eyes. Probably a rat.
She waited on pins and needles, hoping she might get a clue who was upstairs. Lissa didn’t have long to wait.
“The rat girl must have moved on to another house.” A familiar voice floated down from the top of the stairs, slightly muffled by the doors.
Blackburn’s oldest sons must have followed her.
“This one’s picked clean. What about you?
” His grating voice got under her skin. She slid her knife from its sheath, her quiet breathing seeming loud.
She hoped the Blackburn boys weren’t smart enough to look for hidden doors.
Something crashed upstairs, setting her heart racing again. Had they bumped the precarious mop by the basement door?
“All I found upstairs was some jewelry. Nothing valuable, but maybe we can use it for bribing the soldiers for better food on the trek. I’m sick of oatmeal and rats. I vote we go back.”
“Dad said to follow her. It’s the last chance to pick up supplies.”
“We’ve lost her. She could be anywhere. I’ll wait in the lobby and take what she finds, like we always do. You can watch the back door in case she sneaks in that way.” Their voices faded as their heavy footsteps moved outside.
Hell, they didn’t know how to scrounge. She let out a breath, grateful they’d missed the basement.
She ground down on her molars. Why didn’t they collect their own stuff instead of going back to wait?
From this house alone, there were dozens of useful items she’d take if she had space to carry more. The full shelves down here alone…
With trembling hands, she relit her candle and turned to better examine the upright shelves at her back.