thought about blocking the entrance with piles of bricks and stones, but then she couldn’t remember whether the door pulled or pushed open. Instead of wasting precious seconds lugging bricks, she decided to arm herself with the flagpole spear.
Before she took a step, the door opened and a figure stepped out, concealed in dark shadows. Starlight revealed the walkie-talkie lying on the roof. The flagpole spear was somewhere beyond it.
Abby crept toward the weapon as the roof’s surface announced each step with a loud crunch, crunch, crunch … .
“There you are!”
Abby drew in a sharp breath as Toby rushed to the edge of the roof. “Lexi, we’re up here,” he said in a hushed tone.
Ten minutes later, with Lexi and Toby huddled next to her, Abby trembled for a different reason. She was sky-high with relief.
Lexi explained why she had taken the car. “Kids saw me with the fish, and they followed me back here. Toby and I had always figured that kids might find the car, so we came up with a second hiding place, just in case. Abby, I was worried when I couldn’t find you in the alley. Then I was really worried when the brick struck the car.”
Abby turned on the radio three minutes before midnight. The crackling hiss of white noise reminded her of the sound a wave makes after it crashes on shore and the sheet of water slides back down the sand, churning up air bubbles from buried clams.
Two minutes before midnight, Jonzy’s voice crackled over the radio. “Bossy, this is Lemon. Do you copy? Bossy, this is Lemon. Do you copy?”
Toby pumped his fist. “Yes!”
Abby’s spirit soared as she pressed the button. “Lemon, I copy. I’m with the Trader.”
“You and the Trader are together. I’m fishing at dawn. Do you copy?”
She choked back tears. “Lemon, I copy.”
“Fishing in six hours. Over and out.”
Toby put his arm around her, and Lexi was grinning. Abby glanced up at the night sky and thanked her lucky star for granting one of her wishes.
DAY 2
COLONY EAST
Ten minutes past midnight, Lieutenant Dawson gazed north from the top floor of the Biltmore. He and Jonzy would venture outside soon, and he was on the lookout for any vehicles or foot patrols. A half-moon outlined the buildings all the way to the Red Zone. The buildings were dark, and he saw no nearby movement. He raised the binoculars and scanned Eighth Avenue. The avenue was empty.
He moved beside Jonzy, who scanned the area east of the Biltmore. A large fire burned in the distance, about ten miles away in Connecticut, and a few barrel fires dotted the Brooklyn side of the East River.
Jonzy lowered the binoculars. “It’s too quiet. Shouldn’t there be patrols out there?”
Dawson shrugged. “The evacuation is a big operation. I guess everyone is consumed with getting ready for it.”
“What will happen after everyone leaves, Lieutenant?”
Dawson had imagined the scenario. The survivors would see four or five jets lift off from the airport and know something was up. They’d discover the rivers were free of patrol boats and the colony was without lights. Then they’d invade.
“We’re leaving a lot of useful items behind,” he said. “Tools. Clothing. Food at Grand Central Station. Potable water. The chickens at the United Nations Coop. The kale crop at the Central Park Farm. I hope the kids can find the leftover food.”
“They need antibiotic pills, Lieutenant, not tools and clothing.”
He clenched his jaw and gave the cadet a quick nod. In approximately twelve hours, he’d be making his case to Admiral Thomas at Colony West, but first he had to make sure Jonzy escaped the colony with a handful of pills.
They moved to a table where they had piled the two backpacks holding supplies and sat on the floor. Dawson unfolded the checklist, cupped his hand over the flashlight, and turned it on to read the list.
“You should come with me, Lieutenant,” Jonzy said.
“Wire cutters?”
“Check,” Jonzy
Before she took a step, the door opened and a figure stepped out, concealed in dark shadows. Starlight revealed the walkie-talkie lying on the roof. The flagpole spear was somewhere beyond it.
Abby crept toward the weapon as the roof’s surface announced each step with a loud crunch, crunch, crunch … .
“There you are!”
Abby drew in a sharp breath as Toby rushed to the edge of the roof. “Lexi, we’re up here,” he said in a hushed tone.
Ten minutes later, with Lexi and Toby huddled next to her, Abby trembled for a different reason. She was sky-high with relief.
Lexi explained why she had taken the car. “Kids saw me with the fish, and they followed me back here. Toby and I had always figured that kids might find the car, so we came up with a second hiding place, just in case. Abby, I was worried when I couldn’t find you in the alley. Then I was really worried when the brick struck the car.”
Abby turned on the radio three minutes before midnight. The crackling hiss of white noise reminded her of the sound a wave makes after it crashes on shore and the sheet of water slides back down the sand, churning up air bubbles from buried clams.
Two minutes before midnight, Jonzy’s voice crackled over the radio. “Bossy, this is Lemon. Do you copy? Bossy, this is Lemon. Do you copy?”
Toby pumped his fist. “Yes!”
Abby’s spirit soared as she pressed the button. “Lemon, I copy. I’m with the Trader.”
“You and the Trader are together. I’m fishing at dawn. Do you copy?”
She choked back tears. “Lemon, I copy.”
“Fishing in six hours. Over and out.”
Toby put his arm around her, and Lexi was grinning. Abby glanced up at the night sky and thanked her lucky star for granting one of her wishes.
DAY 2
COLONY EAST
Ten minutes past midnight, Lieutenant Dawson gazed north from the top floor of the Biltmore. He and Jonzy would venture outside soon, and he was on the lookout for any vehicles or foot patrols. A half-moon outlined the buildings all the way to the Red Zone. The buildings were dark, and he saw no nearby movement. He raised the binoculars and scanned Eighth Avenue. The avenue was empty.
He moved beside Jonzy, who scanned the area east of the Biltmore. A large fire burned in the distance, about ten miles away in Connecticut, and a few barrel fires dotted the Brooklyn side of the East River.
Jonzy lowered the binoculars. “It’s too quiet. Shouldn’t there be patrols out there?”
Dawson shrugged. “The evacuation is a big operation. I guess everyone is consumed with getting ready for it.”
“What will happen after everyone leaves, Lieutenant?”
Dawson had imagined the scenario. The survivors would see four or five jets lift off from the airport and know something was up. They’d discover the rivers were free of patrol boats and the colony was without lights. Then they’d invade.
“We’re leaving a lot of useful items behind,” he said. “Tools. Clothing. Food at Grand Central Station. Potable water. The chickens at the United Nations Coop. The kale crop at the Central Park Farm. I hope the kids can find the leftover food.”
“They need antibiotic pills, Lieutenant, not tools and clothing.”
He clenched his jaw and gave the cadet a quick nod. In approximately twelve hours, he’d be making his case to Admiral Thomas at Colony West, but first he had to make sure Jonzy escaped the colony with a handful of pills.
They moved to a table where they had piled the two backpacks holding supplies and sat on the floor. Dawson unfolded the checklist, cupped his hand over the flashlight, and turned it on to read the list.
“You should come with me, Lieutenant,” Jonzy said.
“Wire cutters?”
“Check,” Jonzy
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