The line began shuffling forward around nine-thirty. It felt good to see progress so quickly. By ten-fifteen Alex was inside the school, and twenty minutes later he had his large plastic bag of food to take home. Smooth and easy, he thought as he checked out the contents. A box of powdered milk. Two bottles of water. A can of spinach, two cans of green beans, a box of rice and another of instant mashed potatoes. A can of chicken and another of kidney beans. A jar of pickled beets and a can of fruit salad. Pretty much the same stuff he'd been getting for lunch. Enough for him to have something to eat over the weekend and for light suppers for Julie all week. She was getting creative with stretching their food, so maybe she'd get a couple of extra meals out of it for him.

He walked west rapidly, to get away from the crowd of people still waiting, and made it home without incident. He showed Julie what he'd gotten, then walked her to Central Park. On his way to Vincent de Paul he made his stops.

"See," Father Mulrooney said as Alex handed him his sheet. "I knew you could do it all."

Alex wasn't sure, but he thought Father Mulrooney actually smiled. Alex risked it, and smiled back.

Kevin was waiting for him in the cafeteria. "Where were you this morning?" he asked.

"On the food line," Alex said.

"Oh yeah, I heard about that," Kevin said. "One bag per customer, right?"

"Right," Alex said, savoring his lunch of rice and beans.

"How about if I join you next week?" Kevin said. "You could have my bag. My family doesn't need it."

"Are you sure?" Alex asked. "We have to get there as close to six as possible, then stand on line for four hours or so. And it can be dangerous. Riots. Shootings. It isn't fun."

"Fun's overrated," Kevin said. "Or hadn't you noticed."

Alex grinned. "I don't remember what fun feels like," he said. "So it's hard to tell. But we'd be very grateful for the extra bag next week."

"Gratitude's overrated, too," Kevin said. "Remember grilled cheese sandwiches?"

Alex nodded.

"Grilled cheese sandwiches were not overrated," Kevin said. "Neither were Playboy centerfolds. But that's about it, and I've still got the centerfolds."

"You must be a happy man," Alex said.

"I am what I am," Kevin said. "Same as I always was, only with a lot more time on my hands."

"Thank you," Alex said, thanking God and Chris Flynn while he was at it, for the peculiar gift of Kevin Daley's friendship.

Saturday, July 9

"Gin," Alex said, showing Julie his cards. "You owe me $3,870.12."

"I'm bored," Julie said. "What's happening in the world?" "I don't know," Alex said. "What difference does it make anyway:

"You can listen to the radio," she said. "When you use the earphones, I can't hear."

Alex hadn't turned on the radio since Queens died. He no longer cared what astronomers said, what the president said, what anyone said. All that mattered was food enough for him and Julie to survive another week. "I've stopped listening," he said. "We might need the batteries for something more important."

"Like what?" Julie asked.

Alex had no answer. "How about chess?" he asked. "I taught Bri how to play. I could teach you."

"But then you'll just beat me all the time," Julie said.

"I'll sacrifice a castle," Alex said. "A castle and a bishop and a couple of pawns, at least until you get the hang of it. Come on. It'll be something new for us to do."

"Will you get mad if I beat you?" Julie asked.

"No, of course not," Alex said. He knew he'd have to let Julie win occasionally or else she'd stop playing. And chess would give them both a way to kill time between their half cans of string beans and their half cans of corn.

Sunday, July 10

He and Julie spotted the man's body, curled up on the corner of Columbus and Eighty-eighth, at the same time.

"Is he asleep?" Julie asked. "Should we wake him?"

"I think he's dead," Alex said before his sister could walk over to check him out. "Leave him alone."

"Did he die on the street?" she asked. "How? Will anyone move him?"

"I don't know," Alex said. "Come on, Julie. We don't want to be late for Mass."

Tuesday, July 12

"The air tastes funny," Julie said as they walked to Central Park that morning. "It looks weird, too."

"Just cloudy," Alex said. The sky was a peculiar shade of gray. "Maybe a thunderstorm. What do you girls do if it rains when you're gardening?"

"I don't know," Julie said. "It hasn't rained yet."

"Don't stand under any trees," Alex said, trying to re-member thunderstorm rules from his Fresh Air Fund summers.

"You really think it's going to rain?" she asked. "I know the sky's gray, but it doesn't look cloudy. It just looks…"She searched for the right word. "It looks dead," she said. "Like the sun died."

"That didn't happen," Alex said. "If the sun died, we'd be dead. Everybody instantly." He noticed a corpse lying in front of the dry cleaners, and another by the florist five doors down, rats nibbling on their faces. Alex wanted to cover Julie's eyes, but he knew he couldn't protect her forever.

"Do you think it's like this where Bri is?" Julie asked.

Alex shook his head. "She's in the country," he said. "Everything's green and pretty there. Why? Do you want to live in the country, too?"

"I want to stay with you," Julie said. "I don't care as long as we're together."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," Alex said.

"Me neither," Julie said, linking her arm in his. "We're okay as long as the sun stays alive."

Friday, July15

"How about those volcanoes," Kevin said as he and Alex stood on line, halfway down Amsterdam Avenue.

"What volcanoes?" Alex asked, although he knew he didn't want to hear the answer. He cursed himself for giving

Kevin an opening to tell him what was happening in the rest of the world.

"Volcanoes erupting all over," Kevin said. "Millions dying."

Was that all? Alex made the sign of the cross and said a quick silent prayer for the newly dead souls. "Very sad," he muttered.

Kevin grinned. "That's what I like about you, Morales," he said. "Always thinking about others."

"What?" Alex grumbled. "They found a volcano in Central Park?"

"They might as well have," Kevin said. "Can you get your mind off of heaven and back on the Upper West Side? Look up and see the ashes."

"You mean the sky?" Alex asked. "It's gray. So what."

"So it's going to be gray for the rest of our lives," Kevin replied. "Which'll probably be over before I ever get laid."

"Well, we're talking decades, then," Alex said. "If you end up the last man on earth, you might stand a chance."

"With my luck, the last woman on earth'll be a nun," Kevin said. "Old, fat, and devout."

Alex laughed. "The air does taste funny," he admitted.

"That's the volcanoes," Kevin said.

"You're crazy," Alex said. "It's the crematoriums. They're working overtime now, all those extra bodies around. It's polluting the air."

"Great," Kevin said. "We're tasting dead body ash?"

Alex tried to decide which was better: dead body ash or volcanic ash. He voted for dead bodies. That way, at least, Bri would be all right.

"You really think it's volcanoes?" he asked, trying to sound sarcastic.

"That's what they're saying," Kevin replied. "Now that the moon's closer, the gravitational pull is stronger, so it's easier for the magma to get out. Volcanoes are erupting all over the place, even ones that were dormant, and the ash is going into the air currents everywhere. Here, Asia, Europe, maybe even Antarctica."