Autumn in the City of Angels by Kirby Howell

thought he heard something before slowly picking up speed again.  I acted as a second lookout, but never saw the source of the strange noises he seemed to be hearing.
    About a block from the grocery store, a flock of seagulls exploded from an empty storefront, making me jump.  I clutched at the neck of my jacket, trying to calm my breathing.
    “It’s all right.  Just birds,” Ben said, smiling at me.
    I glared at him in response.
    When we pulled up in the parking lot of the grocery store, we stopped to stare.  It looked more like a meadow, with waist-high grass bending in the light breeze.  Ben picked a particularly high part of the grass to park the cart in for cover, and then we picked our way to the entrance of the grocery store.  The glass storefront was shattered, and it was dark inside, but the morning sun was bright.  We stepped inside, glass and leaves crunching beneath our sneakers.
    Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I gasped.  The store was completely cleared out, as if it had gone out of business.  There was nothing left.  Absolutely nothing.
    When we came back out into the bright sunshine, I said, “There’s an Albertsons grocery store another mile or so east.  We could try that.”
    We continued our journey, passing gas stations that were missing the heavy round lids accessing the giant underground gasoline storage containers.  We paused so Ben could peek down into one.  He nudged a small rock over the edge with his shoe.  We heard it clatter on the ground below.  “Empty,” he said.  “Bet The Front’s been siphoning all the gas they can.  Gonna be a hot commodity when the electricity goes out and we’re all on generators.”
    The sun was soon halfway across the January sky and beat down on the small cart as we passed store after store.  I subconsciously pointed Ben toward Hollywood as our fruitless journey continued.  The closer we got to Hollywood High School, the more I yearned to see the boy from my dreams.  I wondered, as I had countless times, why he still hadn’t come for me?  Was it still unsafe after all this time?  But as I looked around, while we traveled in our small cart, I had my answer.  With every collapsed, blackened structure piled where giant stores should have been, I knew the city was more unsafe now than when we’d parted.  Despair flooded my stomach.  How in the world were we all supposed to survive when everything had either been ruined or stolen?  Would there ever be a safe time for him to return to me?  Did he still want to?
    We motored down Sunset Boulevard, and I noticed a large glass tower of electric Smart cars across from a theater I used to go to.  I marveled at the shiny display of the little cars, their bright colors out of place in the now-desolate Hollywood landscape.  They seemed so happy and unaffected, locked up in their glass tower - a time capsule.  In some ways, they reminded me of Ben, Rissi and I.  I knew at some point, the glass would be broken, and the cars would be at risk from the elements, just like we would be if we couldn’t find water to take back.  I was lost in such deep thought that it took me a moment to realize Ben was speaking.
    “Maybe we should head back.  I don’t like how far we’ve gotten from home,” he said.
    Before I could answer, a flock of birds took flight from another parking lot turned meadow.  It was a very large flock, and I wondered what’d startled them.
    Three seconds later, I had my answer.  We heard the rumbling first.  Then the ground started to vibrate under our tires.
    “Earthquake!”  Ben said, setting the brake.  We sat there for a moment, waiting and clutching the side of the cart.  But it got worse.  The ground suddenly rocked wildly under our cart, throwing me off balance.  The telephone polls above us swayed as the electric cords on them danced.  “Get under something!”  Ben yelled.  I jumped out and looked around for anything stable to crawl beneath, but I