They were five years old.
Five.
‘I hate rats,’ she said to me quietly.
‘Everyone does. They’re horrible.’
‘I’m glad it’s dead,’ she choked out.
Her face was twisted up.
‘I don’t care if God will be angry at me. I’m glad it’s dead.’
I hugged her to me.
‘God’s not mad at you, Caroline,’ I told her.
But I had the thought that if you were a person who believed in God, and you lived in Monument, Colorado, in the fall of ’24 you really had to wonder.
We tried to clean Luna’s wounds but she scooted between the back of the futon couch and the wall of the Train.
Astrid had gathered a shopping cart full of lights that ran on batteries.
To Henry’s and Caroline’s delight, and Chloe’s, once she stopped pouting, there were some battery-powered Christmas tree lights.
Astrid let them string them up all over the walls of the Living Room.
I was rooting through the cart, trying to find batteries for the lanterns when I felt Astrid’s hand on my shoulder.
‘Hey,’ she said.
‘Hey,’ I answered. I’m cool like that.
‘Can I talk to you?’
‘Sure,’ I said.
She nodded me toward the Train.
I went in, bringing a lantern. I hadn’t been in the Train in… how long? More than twenty-four hours, to be sure.
It was easy to remember that these had been the dressing rooms of the Greenway, before they became our sleeping quarters. They still looked pretty commercial, no matter how homey Josie had tried to make them when she redecorated.
On the doors to the rooms were written the names of the kids who’d slept there.
‘Max, Batiste, and Ulysses’ read the door to my right in Josie’s handwriting.
That made me feel sad and scared. I missed Josie. I missed all of them.
Astrid followed my gaze.
‘Do you think they could be there yet?’ Astrid asked me.
‘Maybe. I sure as hell hope so.’
‘Yeah, me too’ Astrid said. She was looking down at her feet. She was still wearing the knit hat I’d given her after she’d had me cut her hair.
I smiled, remembering that moment – probably the only nice thing she and I had ever shared.
Suddenly Astrid looked up and the glow from the lantern lit up her face.
A gleam of gold glinted off her nose ring. The nose ring made her look cool, but also a little fierce, too.
I must have been staring at her, wondering what she would look like without it.
‘I’m not going to sleep with you,’ she said.
And I nearly swallowed my heart.
‘Wh-what?’ I stammered.
‘I just want you to know. I figured you might think that because you stayed, I would, like, sleep with you. And I’m not going to.’
Then she turned and walked out of the Train.
I just stood there like an idiot, with my mouth on the floor, for at least ten minutes.
Then I got angry.
I caught up with her in the Kitchen. She was starting to go through the shelves, pulling out food we didn’t need to heat up to be able to eat.
‘Astrid, I never expected you to sleep with me! I never said anything about that. I would never think or expect something like that!’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Good. Then we’re straight.’
‘I stayed because you were right. It was too dangerous for the other kids, to have us with them. And I stayed because you told me you’re pregnant. And staying was the decent thing to do.’
‘And I’m grateful,’ she said, overarticulating her words, like she thought I was an idiot. ‘But I’m not going to sleep with you just because I’m grateful.’
‘I can’t believe you’re saying this,’ I stammered. ‘Do you think I’m some kind of animal?’
‘I just wanted to get the facts straight,’ she said, turning her back on me.
‘Well, they’re straight.’
‘Good,’ she said, returning to her sorting. ‘I’m glad to hear that.’
I was furious. She was acting so cold and so…
I don’t know. I turned and walked away.
Had I been nursing a dream we’d get together and fall in love, and one day, one day far in the future, maybe we’d have sex?
Yes. Dur. Of course I had. That’s what you do when you have a horrible crush on someone.
Now it felt like she was calling it out. Just saying it right in the open. It wasn’t kind and it wasn’t fair.
I stormed away into the dark, messy aisles of our stupid, commercial refuge.
I needed a project.
4 ALEX
NIKO HAD BLISTERS COMING up all over his face. I guess the mask got pushed to the side during the fight with Josie.
I guess the blisters were in his mouth, too. Or his lungs.
Niko rooted around in the plastic storage tub of medicines and found a bottle of Children’s Benadryl.
He broke the seal and chugged straight from the bottle.
‘Can’t drive,’ he gasped. ‘We’ll rest. Ten minutes.’
He slumped in a seat and bowed his head, trying to breathe.
‘Can we take our masks off?’ Max asked.
‘NO!’ Sahalia and I both shouted at once.
‘Only people who are type B can take their masks off,’ Sahalia said.
‘Who’s that again?’ asked Batiste.
‘You and me and Alex,’ Sahalia said, rolling her eyes.
I shrugged and took off my mask.
The air had a taste to it. A stingy taste.
But it was much easier to talk, easier to see, and also, in a way, easier to think because you didn’t have to listen to your scary breathing right in your ears.
Batiste took his off sheepishly. Max and Ulysses muttered together about fairness.
‘What do we do now?’ Sahalia asked, her hands on her hips.
‘I guess we just wait,’ I said. ‘Niko, you tell us when you can drive, okay?’
Niko’s head was lolled back on the seat.
I went up to him and put my head on his shoulder.
