chapter1

ood! The house was empty. While Lisa waited outside in the cold to be sure, she relaxed for a moment and let herself think about the past.

At this time a few weeks ago, she had been sitting quietly in her fifth-grade social studies class. There had been no reason to believe that her life would change. Now it was the middle of December. The whole world had changed, and now life seemed terrible.

What will happen to me? she wondered. Then she swung her leg with all her might. Her boot crashed through the wooden frame and glass of the front door.

The shattering sound rang in her ears as she reached through the broken pane for the latch. Her movements were quick. She was becoming a good thief.

Her eyes struggled to adjust to the strange dimness of the room. Lucky I didn’t cut myself that time, she thought, inspecting her hand. But the hand was trembling, and that made her angry.

There is nothing to be afraid of here! They’re dead, and gone for good. Lisa promised herself never to be afraid again, and to prove it, she screamed at the top of her voice, “I’m here, nobody. I’m here!”

The living room was filled with expensive, comfortable furniture. The big futon seemed especially inviting and made the girl realize how tired she was.

Not thinking very clearly, she searched the room for a light switch. When she finally found one, she flipped it on. Nothing.

The odor of spoiled food was coming from the kitchen. The garbage container was crawling with little white maggots. They seemed to be in every kitchen, like tiny ghosts that had moved in to haunt the empty houses.

The refrigerator was filled with rotten food. She started to reach for some apples that still looked good, but she stopped, guessing that they had picked up the taste of the bad food.

She went to the pantry and loaded her sack almost to the top with canned food, mostly soup. In the bathroom, she added toothpaste, Tylenol, Kleenex, and two bars of soap.

Can opener! she remembered. She hunted around in the kitchen until she found one. Her bag was full. After grabbing some candles from the dining room table, she headed for the front door.

Her actions had become almost automatic. But she was still amazed that she could do the things she had to do—things that the world just hadn’t taught her. She had heard the word “looting” before and knew that it was a kind of stealing. They had looted in the Los Angeles riots just a few years ago.

But this wasn’t really looting, was it? Whoever owned this house would never be back to claim it. The food and supplies would just go to waste or be taken by some other children. Besides, the things she took would save her life—and Todd’s.

Lisa moved to the light of a window to look at her watch. It was getting close to four, and Todd would be worried about her. The little brother that she used to think was a pest now depended on her for everything. She didn’t mind. He had become the best thing in her strange life.

After tucking the watch into her coat pocket, she started toward the door again. She noticed a small writing desk near the window and paused. How neatly the papers were arranged on it! She couldn’t resist the temptation to discover something about the people who had lived in the house. When she sat down at the desk, she suddenly felt very tired. She glanced again at the futon.

If only I were Goldilocks, she thought, laughing at herself. Then I could have a bowl of warm porridge and take a nap. But there was no time for resting.

Most of the letters on the desk were about business. As nearly as she could figure out, the Mr. Williams who had lived here had been the president of a company that made tools. There was a stack of partly addressed Christmas cards and one small, sealed letter, marked Special Delivery—Urgent. She opened it.

Mr. John Williams

Chandler Military Academy

Atlanta, Georgia

Dear Son,

I have talked seriously with Dr. Chaldon and he offers no hope to your mother and me. We are both very weak and, at the most, we have only a few more days to live. Most of the neighbors are already dead and buried. It’s horrible.

On the last news broadcast, they said the virus was spreading all over the world. It’s the worst plague in history.

They say that for some strange reason the sickness is not fatal to children under the age of about 12 years. No adult can survive the infection. As crazy as it sounds, soon there may be no adults left in the world, anywhere. I hope that doesn’t happen.

But you, son, are too close to the “unsafe” age to take any chances. Please contact my friend Dr. Coffman in Atlanta at 456 Peachtree Street. He has promised to save you some of the new vaccine that has been working for many young people your age. Don’t take any chances. Please go to see him the minute you get this letter.

I would have telephoned you, but the phone company has gone out of business. They say that the postal system can only hold out for another 10 days. I hope they’ll be able to get this letter through.

I’m sorry that we never got around to that camping trip to Canada. There are many other plans and dreams that will be lost.

Your mother and I would be happy to think that you will take this house when we’re gone.

We love you, son. Be brave.

Dad

Lisa put the letter aside, recalling that she had received one very much like it. Her father had sent it from the DuPage County Hospital shortly before he died.

Tears were welling up in her eyes as she hurried away. She left the shattered front door wide open. John Williams, if he were still alive, wouldn’t need a key.