phone. She scrolled through the icons, back and forth, not able to register what she was seeing. Her thumb found the call icon and she stabbed her finger at 9-1-1.
Judy clamped the phone to the side of her face. It rang three times and then switched to a jittery busy signal—too fast to be normal. She put the phone on speaker and set it down on the bookcase next to her bedroom door. The busy signal became the soundtrack to Judy’s packing. First, she tossed everything on the bed. Next, she dug around under the bed until she found her largest duffle, covered in dust bunnies. Judy shook the dust from it frantically before cramming her clothes into the bag. Her bathroom was easier. The medicine cabinet was tiny, and the bathroom didn’t have any shelves, so she kept all her toiletries in a bag that unzipped and hung from the back of the door. Judy had all her bathroom stuff packed in seconds.
She stopped and listened. The busy signal had ended.
Judy ran back up to the phone. The display showed a connection, but the busy signal had silenced.
“Hello? Hello?” Judy said into the phone.
She ended the call and tried again. Silence.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Judy whispered. The phone went in her back pocket and Judy returned to the bedroom to grab the duffle bag.
The power went out.
Judy stopped in her tracks, wondering for a second if the power outage should change her plans.
“No,” she said. “I have to go. I have to go now.”
She slung the duffle bag over her shoulder and then dropped it to the floor again at the door. She needed a coat.
Her apartment was small, messy, and cozy. Despite the heat pouring from the uncontrollable radiators, Judy had blankets hanging on the backs of the chairs and sofa. Pillows and lamps defined pockets of space, where she could curl up with a book or a movie. She’d only lived there a few months, but she still felt a deep loss at the idea of leaving—retreating from a crisis and fleeing from the apartment which marked her independence.
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
Judy left the fedora on the antenna of her car. She didn’t want to touch it. Outside, she’d found no traces of the people who had disappeared except for the hat and the dog’s leash. Before she got in the car, she glanced up and down the street—empty. Her street had once contained giant single-family houses with sprawling floor plans. At some point in the evolution of the city, these houses had all been split into apartments. Staircases and kitchens were added. New walls divided the houses into little self-sufficient living areas.
Looking up the street, Judy saw that the doors to some of these houses stood open, inviting her into the darkness. At the top of her block, just visible through the falling snow, the traffic signal swung back and forth on its wire. It was dark. Judy started her engine and used the wipers to clear the accumulation from the windshield. She crept the car slowly up the street, leaning forward to look up in the sky. The streets were deserted. Judy didn’t see any faces in the windows of the houses she passed. The radio produced only static on all the local stations, so she turned it off.
Judy took a right and found a car pulled over to the side. It had left fresh tracks through the light snow, and the driver’s door was hanging open. She saw no sign of the driver, save for two footprints on the pavement. Judy swerved wide around the car and took in these details.
She pointed her car up the hill and headed for the heart of the city to look for signs of life.
CHAPTER 5: ROBBY
R OBBY DIDN ’ T MAKE IT .
Before he reached the emergency exit at the end of the hall. One of the other doors swung open and Lyle lurched through. The man squinted into the light from Robby’s flashlight and banged against the cinderblock wall as the door swung shut behind him.
“I tried to be friends with you and you sprayed me,” Lyle said. “What kind of person does that? We don’t
Judy clamped the phone to the side of her face. It rang three times and then switched to a jittery busy signal—too fast to be normal. She put the phone on speaker and set it down on the bookcase next to her bedroom door. The busy signal became the soundtrack to Judy’s packing. First, she tossed everything on the bed. Next, she dug around under the bed until she found her largest duffle, covered in dust bunnies. Judy shook the dust from it frantically before cramming her clothes into the bag. Her bathroom was easier. The medicine cabinet was tiny, and the bathroom didn’t have any shelves, so she kept all her toiletries in a bag that unzipped and hung from the back of the door. Judy had all her bathroom stuff packed in seconds.
She stopped and listened. The busy signal had ended.
Judy ran back up to the phone. The display showed a connection, but the busy signal had silenced.
“Hello? Hello?” Judy said into the phone.
She ended the call and tried again. Silence.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Judy whispered. The phone went in her back pocket and Judy returned to the bedroom to grab the duffle bag.
The power went out.
Judy stopped in her tracks, wondering for a second if the power outage should change her plans.
“No,” she said. “I have to go. I have to go now.”
She slung the duffle bag over her shoulder and then dropped it to the floor again at the door. She needed a coat.
Her apartment was small, messy, and cozy. Despite the heat pouring from the uncontrollable radiators, Judy had blankets hanging on the backs of the chairs and sofa. Pillows and lamps defined pockets of space, where she could curl up with a book or a movie. She’d only lived there a few months, but she still felt a deep loss at the idea of leaving—retreating from a crisis and fleeing from the apartment which marked her independence.
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
Judy left the fedora on the antenna of her car. She didn’t want to touch it. Outside, she’d found no traces of the people who had disappeared except for the hat and the dog’s leash. Before she got in the car, she glanced up and down the street—empty. Her street had once contained giant single-family houses with sprawling floor plans. At some point in the evolution of the city, these houses had all been split into apartments. Staircases and kitchens were added. New walls divided the houses into little self-sufficient living areas.
Looking up the street, Judy saw that the doors to some of these houses stood open, inviting her into the darkness. At the top of her block, just visible through the falling snow, the traffic signal swung back and forth on its wire. It was dark. Judy started her engine and used the wipers to clear the accumulation from the windshield. She crept the car slowly up the street, leaning forward to look up in the sky. The streets were deserted. Judy didn’t see any faces in the windows of the houses she passed. The radio produced only static on all the local stations, so she turned it off.
Judy took a right and found a car pulled over to the side. It had left fresh tracks through the light snow, and the driver’s door was hanging open. She saw no sign of the driver, save for two footprints on the pavement. Judy swerved wide around the car and took in these details.
She pointed her car up the hill and headed for the heart of the city to look for signs of life.
CHAPTER 5: ROBBY
R OBBY DIDN ’ T MAKE IT .
Before he reached the emergency exit at the end of the hall. One of the other doors swung open and Lyle lurched through. The man squinted into the light from Robby’s flashlight and banged against the cinderblock wall as the door swung shut behind him.
“I tried to be friends with you and you sprayed me,” Lyle said. “What kind of person does that? We don’t
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