Survivor by James Phelan

Survivor by James Phelan

Author:James Phelan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2013-03-22T00:00:00+00:00


“Up early,” Rachel said as she joined me on the steps, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I said; another lie. I could sleep, given the chance, forever. My legs and butt were numb from having sat out here for so long, but after all this time listening to the city’s lonely beat, my mind was clear.

“Noises woke you?”

I looked up at her, suspicious. “Yeah,” I replied.

“It’s the building,” she said, adjusting the brightness of her lantern. “It has a life of its own—tormented by branches against the windows, rats in the walls, possums in the ceiling, the heat and cold. And that’s just the usual fare.”

I nodded wearily.

“Come on in,” Rachel said, wrapped tight in her blanket and her bed-hair tucked behind her ears. “You’ll freeze to death. I’ve got some water on the boil.”

I followed her inside. It was just before 7:30 A.M. Inside the bathroom I washed, using a bucket of warm water, savoring the heat and the steam. Through the bathroom window, I could see the bleak beginnings of dawn through the bare trees, whose branches shook in the breeze.

Rachel was stirring a pot of porridge on the fire.

“Thanks,” I said, as she put a bowl of porridge with honey on the desk in front of me, juice and tea already laid out. I poured the pot of water into the teapot, jiggled the teabags.

We ate by the gray glow of the early morning light that spilled through the windows and Rachel sat quite straight while I tried not to slouch too much. The sounds of her sipping coffee, swallowing, her spoon against the bowl; all distractions from what I wanted to say.

All I wanted to ask right then was what it would take for Rach to leave. But I feared her answer. I’d either have to give her a good reason to leave, or this place would.

“Look, Rachel . . . let’s leave soon, yeah?”

“We’ve got enough food for the week,” she said, before reading my expression. “You mean leave New York.”

I nodded.

“Jesse . . . you know I can’t do that—I can’t leave them here alone like that.”

“But if I could find someone to take over?” Knowing that would be impossible.

She laughed. “Who? Who would you find?”

I drank my tea. “How about I bring Caleb here, to help out for a while—he’s pretty handy, I think. Seems to know a lot about survival.”

“He’s just out of high school!”

“Well, I’m still in high school, and you’re practically not far out of it.”

“I mean, what, he’s learned some stuff from computer games? From what you’ve told me he’s a typical well-off New Yorker, probably never got his hands dirty in his life. You expect him to come here and shovel animal crap? Work all day in the freezing cold?”

“He’d help. I know it.”

“We’ll see,” Rachel said, eating the remainder of her porridge in half-spoonfuls. “But . . . look, I know how you’re feeling. I feel it too; overwhelmed, freaked, worried—about home, about family. But right now, my home’s here.



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