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Sierra looked up and down the street. They were in a neighborhood of single-family homes. All were empty and quiet except for the wail of a distant siren. She fought the urge to climb into one and just fall asleep until the nightmare passed.

  “Everyone in the group is headed to Staten Island,” Jake said. “It’s safe there.”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “You’d rather take your chances out here?” he asked.

  “No, I guess not,” she said. She started toward the car but froze when a curtain moved inside the house.

  “What is it?” Jake asked. Sierra shielded the sun from her eyes.

  “I think it’s a kid,” she said. She pointed to the window, where a head was barely visible over the windowsill, two wide eyes imploring her to help.

  “So?” Jake said, but he cut the engine.

  “We have to help her,” she said. She thought of the accident and Kelsey. It wouldn’t make up for it, nothing would, but maybe it was a start. She took a step toward the house, still not sure what to do. Sure, she used to babysit, but that only involved some Disney DVD’s and an early bedtime. And Jake was an only child himself. They couldn’t leave her there alone, though.

  “I’ll go,” he said. He got out of the car and joined her in the yard. The kid had disappeared from the window and the house was quiet again. She reached for Jake’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He was risking a lot taking her with him, and now the kid. She’d forgotten how much she missed his kindness.

  “Can I, like, cover you or something?” she asked. He laughed.

  “If you’d actually taken those shooting lessons I suggested, then maybe. As it is, I’d fear for my own life if I left you armed.” He handed her the keys to the SUV, and let his hand linger in hers.

  “I never stopped loving you, Sierra. Even when you changed.”

  “I didn’t change.” She shook her head. “Not really. I just forgot what was important.”

  He smiled, like he was going to say more, then let go of her hand. She had to look away when her chest tightened from the emotion of it all. She heard him climb the steps and knock. The kid looked through the glass to the side of the door, but didn’t open it.

  “Is your mom or dad home?” Jake asked. The kid shook her head and Sierra got her first view of the little girl. She was six or seven, maybe. Sierra was never very good at ages. Her oversized shirt was a ripped mess, even from this distance, and her brown hair was matted. But her tears were what struck Sierra the most. No kid that age should have that haunted look in her eyes. It was a look Sierra understood.

  “I can help you.” Jake knelt down to the kid’s level, and the door opened a crack. “There’s a place that’s safe, I can bring you there.” He turned to give Sierra a thumbs up as the door opened, and he disappeared into the house. Sierra hovered by the car for several tense minutes before he came out holding the girl’s hand. He opened Sierra’s door and Sierra squeezed in with the girl on her lap, the only open space in the SUV.

  “She’s six, and her name is Kylie,” Jake said.

  “Um, hi,” Sierra said. She shifted uncomfortably on the seat. “I’m Sierra.” She took stock of the kid, who was in rough shape. Tear-stained face and brown hair that was matted and tangled at her shoulders. She’d changed into a pink shirt and sweatpants that were a size too small. Sierra softened, and put her arms around the girl’s waist.

  “You’re safe, now,” she whispered as Jake got in and pulled away.

  “Her parents?” Sierra asked quietly. Jake shook his head.

  “The virus,” he said. “They’ve been gone for a few days. Kylie was surviving on her own.” Sierra felt a rush of sympathy for the girl.

  “What about her?” she asked.

  “All this time, she’s probably immune.”

  They didn’t speak for a while, but Kylie cried softly on Sierra’s lap. She held a small bag that Jake had hastily packed, along with a stuffed elephant. Sierra shifted so she could hold Jake’s hand over the console. She thought about apologizing to him, but she had no idea where to even begin. The list of crappy things she’d done was at least a mile long. Besides, her daddy used to say that a real apology was in actions, not words; but it didn’t hurt to try.

  “I’m sorry, Jake,” she began. It wasn’t just because she had no choice. She’d realized it before the accident, before she made a mess of things and before Mason dumped her. Before the world proved that Jake was right. She just didn’t know how to make it right.

  “Not now,” he said. He’d tensed when she took his hand, but he softened and ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “I heard from one of my parent’s friends over the CB. He said Goethals Bridge is the only one that’s open. There’s some kind of checkpoint; he was about to go in. My parents are already in there.”

  “Okay,” she said. “But have you heard from anyone who’s actually inside?” He pulled the car into a parking lot and cut the engine.

  “Well, no, but what choice do we have?”

  She couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t like she had made any apocalyptic plans, and the Four Seasons was out of the question. He got out and stuffed as much as they could carry in the backpacks. He pocketed the keys to the SUV and handed her a folded map to hang on to. She shoved it in her pocket.

  “We can walk from here,” he said, putting on his mask and taking out an extra for Kylie. She didn’t fight him when he laced it on her. Sierra knelt and adjusted it for her.

  “This is going to keep us safe, until we can get into the safe zone. Can you keep it on for me?” Kylie nodded, and the level of trust in her look humbled Sierra. She hugged the girl and swallowed her tears so Kylie wouldn’t see. She needed to be strong.

  They made their way to the highway, and the crowd got heavier. The groups around them were a ragtag mix that ranged from full HAZMAT suits to stragglers who were obviously sick. Jake kept them away from the infected as much as he could, and when fights broke out, he helped them avoid those as well. By the time they got to the bridge, it wasn’t just the virus Sierra was scared of, but the other survivors too.

  Sierra’s fear kicked up a notch as they joined the queue at the entrance to the bridge and people approached in various types of protective gear. It all looked so alien to her, especially the masks with the big bug eyes, but the ones not wearing anything, and the ones with flimsy masks like Jake and Kylie, looked so vulnerable. Behind her, someone sneezed, and the person next to her wiped blood off his nose. There was the smell of death in the air, of desperation and humanity, as they were jostled along in the line toward the concrete barriers. The guards holding guns over the crowd did nothing to ease her fears. Her shoulder ached with the weight of the backpack, and Kylie was so close, she was almost hugging her leg.

  “I heard there’s a vaccine in there,” someone said. The guy next to her snorted a laugh, which broke into a coughing fit.

  “They’ll probably just shoot us all,” he said, wiping blood on his sleeve. “Decrease the surplus population.”

  A scuffle broke out between the two men, and a punch flew close to Sierra’s head. Jake moved them away, and worked his way through the swell of people trying to stay away from anyone obviously diseased. Sniffles and cries echoed through the crowd, and the feeling of loss hung over everyone. It was more than Sierra could take. She stopped to make sure Kylie’s mask was secure.

  “Almost there,” she told the girl, but she couldn’t stop wondering what they were walking into. She was no scientist; in fact she was close to failing anatomy before the accident, but she was pretty sure an airborne virus couldn’t be contained on an island. There was no going back, though. The force of the crowd propelled them forward and she felt protective of Jake and Kylie.

  They reached the entrance to the bridge, where guards leered at the crowd from behind their masks. Once in a while gunshots echoed from the other side of the bridge, past where the tents were set up. She couldn’t see beyond them, but it didn’t give her a good feeling. They passed a se
t of concrete barriers with the next wave of refugees, then they were separated into lines where they waited to go into the tents. Ahead of her, people shuffled nervously as they entered the tent a few at a time.

  “This is it, then?” Sierra asked. She tightened her hold on Kylie’s hand. Many of the refugees were in pairs of two or three, but some were alone. There were mostly adults, with a few kids mixed in. Sierra shuddered to think what would have become of Kylie if they hadn’t found her. Already she’d become attached to the little girl.

  “No going back now,” Jake said. His voice didn’t inspire confidence.

  They kept to the back of the line that had formed on the bridge and waited their turn to enter the tented-off section. The refugees were pulled aside one by one and screened by men in black tactical suits with facemasks. She had a bad feeling when an older man and woman wearing olive green rubber suits were pulled out of line ahead of them and fought with the guards.

  “What’s happening?” Kylie asked softly. Sierra just had time to turn the girl’s head away when two gunshots rang out. They were so close that Sierra’s ears rang. She couldn’t even hear the sound of her own screaming for several seconds. The group started to break out in hysterics. People shoved and Jake grabbed Kylie just before Sierra was pushed down to her knees. She was close to being trampled when someone yanked her up by the arm. She turned her head to see the diamond shaped logo for PFD on her savior’s arm. The crowd quieted as he shot his gun in the air to get control.

  She met Jake’s eyes through the sea of people. He had Kylie by the arm, but he couldn’t get to Sierra. She turned to the soldier to plead her case, but she couldn’t get past the PFD patch. Was Jake right about the company after all? As the chaos of the shooting subsided, Sierra tried to jerk out of the man’s hold.

  “I don’t think so, sweetheart,” he said. She couldn’t see through the mask, but she didn’t know many of her dad’s coworkers anyway. While Jake fought to get back to her, she took a chance.

  “I’m looking for my father,” she said in a voice full of false optimism. Jake had gotten them this far, but she’d have to get them the rest of the way. It wasn’t just her and Jake any more, but Kylie’s life depended on it. The guard’s hold never wavered. If anything, it got stronger.

  “Nice try,” he said, and he pulled her away from the line. She got a view of another guard pushing Jake and Kylie back in line before she was dragged to the other side of the tent. They were dangerously close to the side of the bridge. The wind whipped her hair up and around her face, and she had the feeling she was going over.

  “Richard Brook!” she yelled, and held her other hand up. “Richard Brook is my father! He works for PFD!” Her hand trembled as she pointed to the patch on the man’s arm. His hold wavered for just a minute.

  “Marketing!” she said, miserably. “He works in marketing, or at least I thought he did.” She had a feeling that many things about her parents, and Peter Franklin Donalds, weren’t what she thought they were.

  The guard took out a radio and mumbled something about her father’s name. She thought he kept his eyes on her, but it was hard to tell with his mask. Her arm was starting to throb from the pressure of his fingers. It would leave a bruise for sure, which was the least of her problems.

  “Lucky girl,” he loosened his hold. “You’re in.” He shoved her toward the tent, and before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her hand and she felt a prick on her finger.

  “OW!” she cried. She scanned the tent for Jake or Kylie but couldn’t find them.

  “She’s clear,” a voice echoed. She was pushed along to the other side of the tent, and fell back into another crowd as she emerged and was shuffled into another line.

  Staten Island wasn’t yet visible through the crowd. She stood on tiptoe, but no one was familiar. Far ahead, someone who looked like Jake carried a young, brown haired little girl that could have been Kylie. They were approaching another checkpoint. Sierra yelled as loud as she could, but either they couldn’t hear her over the noise or it wasn’t Jake. They disappeared in the sea of people and Sierra started to panic.

  She tried to get to them any way she could, pushing and elbowing her way to the front. Someone swung at her, and when she ducked, he connected with the man beside her instead and a fight broke out. She used it to her advantage, and shoved her way through the next checkpoint. It made her a target and the guards started to come at her from every direction. Every instinct told her to flee. She dropped her backpack as she ran, pushing people aside here and there. Gunshots fired behind her and people screamed, but she tucked her head in and kept running. She lost the guards soon after she made it off the bridge, but she kept running as far and fast as she could.

  When she finally stopped, she’d lost not only the guards but Jake and Kylie as well, and she had no supplies. She’d ended up on a street full of stores, or one that used to be full of stores. For a safe zone, it was eerily empty. She ducked in an alley and leaned against a building to catch her breath. She could have let the guards take her, but she couldn’t drag Jake and Kylie into this mess with PFD before she knew exactly what her parents’ role in the company was. And to do that, she’d have to find Jake and Kylie too. Not just because she needed his help, but because she needed him. He’d been right all along, but she had been too stubborn to see it. This time, when she found him, she wasn’t letting go. And she would find him. If she had to comb Staten Island, even if she had to resort to her father’s help.

  She felt her pocket and realized she still had the map Jake had given her. Staying in the building’s shadow, she pulled it out and unfolded it. There was an address circled three times in red. A warehouse, it looked like. It was just like Jake to think of everything. She looked up to the horizon where the sun was just setting. If she had any luck, she’d make it by nightfall. Luck hadn’t been on her side much lately, but it was about time for that to change. It was about time for her to have a second chance, and she’d fight for it. Somewhere, Jake and Kylie were waiting for her, and she’d do anything to get back to them.

  Learn more about Amy Bartelloni

  Owen watched the yellow lines in the centre of the tarmac reel past, listened to the gentle hum of the wheels as his bike sped down the deserted street. The air was hot and heavy but so long as he was moving he could keep alive the illusion of a breeze.

  The incline steepened as it took him toward the western edge of town and the bike’s whirring intensified as it sped up. Owen racked his brain, trying to recall the layout of the suburb. He’d never been there before the outbreak, but the side of town where he’d grown up was getting trickier. Survivors coming in from the villages, stealing, causing trouble. There were still a few people around but those left alive were dealing with the sick, or were sick themselves. The Fever had struck fast. Within days everything had been turned on its head and Owen had found himself stuck in a strange other world where he could no longer guess how people would behave or who he could trust.

  The stores in town had been cleared before the sickness even arrived. Twenty-four-hour news reports had whipped panicked shoppers into a frenzy, stocking up for the worst, when it was already too late. Probably eighty percent of all the food, water, medical supplies…everything deemed necessary to survive the end of the world…lay untouched, surrounded by the recent dead.

  Turned out survival wasn’t a choice, a reward you could earn, a product you could buy. It was luck, pure and simple. Random selection: those the virus took…and those it left behind. For some reason Owen had yet to fathom, he belonged to the latter.

  He steered left and freewheeled down the crescent to the gated community at the bottom. Straddling the entrance was a gaudy sign emblazoned with ‘Sunnydale Retirement Village.’ The gates were open, just like the day before, only this time he’d come prepared. He adjusted his empty backpack and removed the panniers from the bike.

  Sunnydale was deserted, the elderly residents long gone. A few of his nana’s friends had lived
there, though Owen didn’t know exactly which ones. What did it matter? Whoever they were, they were long gone. One way or another.

  Owen wheeled the bike round the side of an outbuilding and eased it behind a bush to hide it from view. The place might look deserted but he’d learned the hard way that things had a nasty habit of disappearing, even—or especially—when you least expected it.

  He’d already picked where to go, and marked where to avoid. He passed the doors with the four, bold letters spray painted in black from the day before: DEAD. The markings were hardly necessary—in the midsummer heat, most times you knew which places housed the dead without even having to open the door—but he liked to make sure he didn’t stumble across dead bodies any more times than he had to. He kept going until he reached the ones without the spray paint, the ones he wanted.

  After just two apartments his backpack was full. Packets of pasta, rice, and beans. Batteries and matches, band aids, dressings, bottles of pills. He had no idea what the pills were but had a feeling his nana would.

  Owen returned to the bushes, his heart thudding—suddenly filled with a sense that he wasn’t alone, that his bike would be gone… He breathed out. There it was, exactly as he’d left it. But on the first count he was right. He was no longer alone.

  She was just a girl. Around his sister’s age, fourteen or so. Average height, dark brown bangs that hid half her face. On her back she carried a weird looking sling full of supplies while in her hand she held a tatty, lumpy string bag. It didn’t look like she’d washed in a while.

  “I saw you here yesterday,” she said, stepping forward as he dragged his bike out of its hiding place. “Where are you staying?” Owen attached the bulky panniers to the bike, determined to ignore her. “Do you have somewhere? Somewhere safe?”

  “I can’t help you,” he said.

  “Please,” she added, turning her head at a faint sound from behind her. The sound turned into a high pitched hiccupping and then a full blown cry. Owen stared as the sling on her back wiggled and twisted before a chubby, angry arm flailed out from the top. “We’re all alone. My parents…” The girl stopped, the word lodged in her throat.