The Girl Who Owned a City (3 page)

Todd asked his regular breakfast question: “What are we going to do today, Lisa?”

She started to tell him that he should try fishing, but she hesitated. She had been too bossy lately. Young as he was, Todd was her partner, and Lisa knew that it would be better if they acted as a team.

A suggestion would be better than an order. “Do you think you could catch some fish at Perry's Pond?” she asked.

“Sure, Lisa.” He was confident.

“Good. I'll help you get the stuff together.”

“I'll find some worms,” Todd volunteered, putting on his coat. “Where's the shovel?”

She helped him find it and then watched as he dragged the huge shovel toward the Triangle. She smiled, feeling certain that she would be the one finally digging up the worms.

Todd returned from the woods a few minutes later. He's given up already, thought Lisa—but she was wrong. There was a giant smile on his face and a collection of worms, twigs, and leaves in his coat pocket. They picked out the biggest worms and put them in a coffee can. After she strung the bamboo pole, Todd started out for the pond.

“Come back by ten and don't fall in the water,” she said. Oops! she thought. I'm giving orders again.

“Okay, Lisa.”

After he left, she eagerly set out on her own adventure. On Chidester Street she found a red, high-sided wagon. In it were a few small cars and a toy truck that she would bring home for Todd. The wagon itself would be perfect for carrying whatever she might find at the farms.

At home, she tied the wagon securely to the back of her bicycle. If she did find a chicken, she would need a cage of some kind. The wicker clothes hamper that she loaded into the wagon would work.

She would be gone for several hours, so she pocketed the last candy bar to keep the hunger away. She prepared Todd's snack—soda crackers and a packet of low-cal instant breakfast mixed with water. She hated the taste of this diet stuff, but she was very glad to have it.

Todd returned at ten without any fish. He hid his disappointment behind talk about tomorrow's fishing trip, about how he needed more time, and about how he was sure he could catch fish for them. “Fishing takes patience,” he said, in a tone of voice that reminded Lisa of Uncle Pete.

“Tomorrow you'll catch some, Todd,” she said. He was a good kid.

But he turned back into a sassy little brother and threw a tantrum when he learned that Lisa was going on a trip without him. “Why not?” he asked, finally, when he realized that she wasn't changing her mind.

“Because of the gangs I've been hearing at night. They are starting to steal from other families like us. Soon they'll be out in the daytime, and we have to be careful. Don't you want to be the guard of our house?”

“I guess so,” he answered. He had a familiar look of worry. “How long will you be gone?”

“I should be back by three at the latest. Did you wind your watch?”

“Yes.”

“Remember,” she said, mounting her bike, “stay in the house, keep the doors locked, and if anyone should try to break in, hide in the crawl space under the stairs. Keep the gun with you all the time.” She added, “Your breakfast is on the table.”

She rode off, with the wagon clattering along behind her. On Riford Street, she saw a few faces peek from the door of a boarded-up house. She pedaled as slowly as possible, but the metal wagon still banged against the pavement, making too much noise.

A girl from Beth Bush's house recognized her and began running to meet her. For some reason, she stopped abruptly after two or three paces and then ran back inside. Lisa saw this from the corner of her eye and wondered what had stopped the girl.

Which one of my friends would be living at the Bush's house? she wondered. It looked vaguely like Becky Cliff, but it was hard to be sure. Whoever it was had not been too lucky. Her face was pale and smudged with dirt. Her hair and clothes looked neglected.

Those kids are probably wondering what I'm up to, thought Lisa. They can see that I'm off to find supplies, but they can't guess why I'm headed
away
from all the houses and stores. I hope I'm the first to think of this. I'll be mad if I pedal all the way out to these farms just to find them empty like everything else.

Lisa's leg muscles were beginning to ache, but her mind was so busy with thoughts of farms and fields that she didn't notice the pain. There just has to be lots of food there, she thought. After all, that's where food comes from.

At North Avenue, she decided to rest her legs. After pulling the bike into a deserted gas station, she sat for a while in the weak winter sun, using a gas pump for a backrest. She ate the candy bar, but it made her thirsty. A water faucet was fixed to the outside wall of the station. Perhaps there was still enough pressure in the tank to force out a little trickle of water.

To her surprise, the water came rushing out. After taking a long drink, she returned to her seat by the pump.

As she sat and stared at the big, empty road, Lisa became aware of its stillness. There was not one single car, not a sign of life anywhere.

She had made all her other visits to this intersection in the family car. Before leaving the station, they always had to wait patiently for a break in the long stream of cars. Now there was no traffic at all. The road seemed huge and strange without it.

Now's my chance to break a rule without being punished, she thought. There was no one around to tell her to look both ways before crossing the street.

She pedaled hard, held her eyes straight ahead, and crossed the intersection while looking straight ahead. She laughed out loud, and then shouted, “Many rules have become useless!” But no one heard.

Fifteen minutes later, Lisa was pedaling past farms and fields. She chose the farm that looked most inviting. It had large, freshly painted buildings and a long white fence that ran for a hundred yards or so before disappearing into a thick forest. She wheeled past the fence and parked her bike by the largest barn.

What she saw inside the barn made her feel sick. The cows had been left in their stalls with too little food. They were all dead. It was a horrible sight, and she stood for only a moment in the midst of it.

Afraid to venture into the other farm buildings, she turned her attention to the crops—but there were none. The farmer had harvested the fields long ago, and nothing remained but brown stubs and clods of dirt.

Lisa looked toward the farmhouse. The rear door was wide open, so she went inside. She could see that the house had never been looted. A few squirrels and mice had moved in, but otherwise the rooms were undisturbed.

A note lay on the kitchen table.

On the back side, in very poor handwriting, were these final words.

Another sentence was started and then crossed out. Maybe the woman didn't have the time to finish it. Or, more likely, she just couldn't dream up any good advice for the new world. She couldn't begin to imagine what that world would be like.

But she had come pretty close. With the first tears she had shed in a long while, Lisa surrendered to the kindness in the woman's words. All this time I've been truly alone and her note . . . it's . . . it's the last I'll ever hear from those people.

She sat in silence for a long time, letting the woman's words repeat themselves in her mind. “Be brave . . . strong . . . find out how it runs . . . .” Lisa knew that she and Todd would not take over the farm. They loved their own home too much.

She brought herself back to the present. No time to waste here, she thought, shaking herself back into action. Before leaving by the back door, she used a large bag to collect flour, canned vegetables, and other supplies from the pantry.

Outside, a chicken darted around the corner of the house and hurried toward her with a haste that seemed to say, “Glad to see you!” Lisa was definitely glad to see the hen. With no effort at all, she lifted the clucking bird into the wicker basket.

The girl was swept up in a sudden mood of happiness. Although she hadn't found all that she had hoped for, the woman's note, the homemade cookies, and the live hen encouraged her. If only her wagon were a little bigger . . .

The good mood brought a reckless idea to her. It was an idea that made her laugh a bold, confident laugh. Instead of making endless supply trips with the bike and wagon, she would learn to drive the car. Today!

Her father's words ran through her mind. “Stick the key in the ignition, turn the key, put it into Drive, and go.'' He had said them so many times to her mother, sometimes apologizing for his bossiness. But Lisa was happy that she remembered his repetitious directions. They would give her enough to go on. She would soon remember the others, and she would be driving! Lisa couldn't wait to see the bewildered look on the faces of the Riford Street kids when she made her first trip in a car.

She barely noticed the passing scenery on her bike ride home. She was thinking about the car ride. She could do it! As she passed North Avenue, the gas station, and the blank, peering faces on Riford Street, she rehearsed the details of her plan. Her father's instructions came to her clearly now, as if they had been stored on tape somewhere in her brain, waiting to be called into use. “Keep it in park till you're ready to go . . . let it warm up a minute . . . look around you . . . keep your foot on the brake . . . put the shift lever in Drive . . . let up on the brake . . . not too much gas . . . slowly now . . .”

The driveway of her house appeared. Quickly, she pulled the wagon and bike into the garage. The sight of the big car made her stomach feel funny. “I'll never—” she started to say, but stopped, knowing that she
must
try it. She emptied the wagon and called out to Todd to tell him her plans.

“Really?” Todd was excited. “Let's go now!”

“I didn't say
we,
Todd. I have to try this alone.” But it was too late to avoid his outburst. She wished that she had used a different way to tell him.

Finally he stopped arguing, and they made peace. “It's dangerous, and I have to learn how to drive first,” she explained. “You can go some other time.”

Lisa drew a map of her course and traced the route to North Avenue with her finger. “If I'm not back by three-thirty, come looking for me.”

He watched her climb into the car. “Be careful, Lisa.” His warning surprised her. Was he imagining his own fate if something actually did go wrong?

She sat behind the wheel and struggled to adjust the thick, cushioned seat. The dashboard seemed to loom above her, and her feet barely touched the pedals. Lisa was frightened. Ten-year-old girls just didn't drive cars. What made her think that
she
could?

Her body shook in silence for a long time. “Damn tears!” she said out loud. Then she laughed at her first real swear word. Somehow it made her feel better. Wiping the blur from her eyes, she said it again, louder this time.

They needed those supplies, and getting them would take 10 trips with the wagon. Besides, someone else might find the stuff before she could get it all moved. If she could learn to drive this car, then she and Todd could really stock up. That would give them time to make better plans.

The future had not been very clear, but now she could imagine months and years of finding food and trying to survive. The car would help a lot. She looked at the fuel gauge—full. Good thing the car is facing out to the street, she thought. I'd never be able to back it out.

She remembered the instructions again. “Turn the key . . .” The engine came alive with a powerful roar. As if frightened by the sound, her foot jumped away from the pedal. The roar became a soft whir.

“Look all around you.” As Lisa recalled the command, her eyes traced a circle around the car and passed a pale boy—her brother—framed by the garage door.

“Keep your foot on the brake . . . put the shift lever in Drive . . . let up on the brake . . .” The car crept forward.

“Here I go.” The words stuck in her throat. Slowly, she reminded herself.

It seemed that she was flying to the end of the driveway. She turned the wheel a little too sharply and began driving across the Coles' lawn. There was a crunching sound, and then Lisa saw a clump of broken plastic where Mr. Cole's Rollerblades had been lying in the grass. If he were still alive, he would have been angry.

“Not too much gas . . . slowly . . . .” Her foot hadn't touched the gas pedal, yet she was still moving. Why am I moving? Is something wrong? In a panic, she stepped down hard on the brake. The car screeched to a stop as her head banged against the steering wheel. It was too late to recall her father's words: “Easy on the brakes!” Lisa was stunned.