A Matter of Days by Amber Kizer Page A

see you at Pappi’s as soon as you can get there. If you do not make it by Halloween I will try to come to you and get us through till spring and make the trek together
.
    Love
,
Uncle Bean
    Rabbit read it twice, then handed it back. “We need to burn this letter.”
    “Why? I’ve hidden it.”
    “Yeah, but if something happened we don’t want bad guys showing up at Pappi’s, right?”
    “They don’t have a map.”
    “Right, but still.”
    “You’re right.” But it meant losing another piece of
before
. What if there was something in there we needed to know and we forgot?
    “Do you think anyone else lived? Like everyone in Africa is okay? Or Brazil?”

DAY 63
    “Y ou saw the same television news I did.” The riots, the panic, the city blocks burning to prevent the spread of the unknown disease.
    “I know, but maybe somewhere?”
    “Maybe.” I wasn’t going to kill the kid’s hope. There was enough of that in everyday life.
    Twawki whined. He seemed weaker and thinner than earlier in the day.
    Rabbit frowned, “You think maybe there’s medicine here or any of that other stuff?”
    “Why don’t you explore the barn and I’ll take the walkie-talkie up to the house?”
    “I can go with you.…”
    “Nah, keep on eye on Twawki. I think he’s worried about you. Maybe they have medicine for animals here, too?”
    “If it’s a working farm, they might.”
    I wrapped a towel around my mouth and used a clothespin to keep my nostrils shut. The house wasn’t open to the elements—not that I saw—so if someone was inside, they’d rotted in there. As smells go, there wasn’t anything like it.
    I found the remains of the farm’s family in their living room. All but a man were bundled in quilts, with several rounds of shotgun shells littering the floor at my feet. Three kids, someone with long blond braids was maybe the mom, and a guy in dung-covered work boots and patched denim could have been the father. The weapon lay on the floor near his body. None of the kids looked shot, just the adults. And the dog. Couldn’t really blame them for choosing death over surviving if their kids all died. If I didn’t have Rab I wasn’t sure I’d be making this trip.
    The coffee table was covered with bright-colored papers. The same kind they’d dropped from the sky over us in the early days. Especially after the power started going out and people were told to stay in their houses, or else.
    I picked up one dated a month ago informing people to head toward the nearest university or college campus. There they’d be transported to government-run hospitals and given antiviral drugs. The last lines were enough to make me laugh.
Do not panic. Everything will be all right. Follow directions
.
    I opened a window, feeling better with a breeze and air changing. I took a deep breath, fairly certain that I wouldn’t find more bodies upstairs. Looked like they’d gathered together in the end. I found a few wool blankets and clean sweats forRabbit, and checked the medicine cabinet. I grabbed all the bottles, over-the-counter and prescription. The granny had asked for gold, medicine, or guns. If that was the new currency, we needed some. I riffled through a jewelry box, grabbed a plain-looking gold locket and what might have been a wedding band. I closed my eyes. Stealing was wrong. Just because they were dead didn’t make it okay, didn’t make it feel better. Maybe necessary, but not better.
    I carried the bottles to the sunlight and read the labels. One of them was antibiotics. Twawki was big enough he’d qualify for human weight, but would human drugs work? Rabbit and I would talk it over, but we’d need to chance it.
    I found a couple of bottles of whiskey above the kitchen sink, shotgun shells, and another gun. I made several trips, putting it all on the porch.
    One corner of the dining room had leather-bound books, the kind that looked expensive and were always special requests at the library. I walked over and