Father Mulrooney nodded. "That's to be expected," he said. "I just wanted to confirm. As time goes on, more of the elderly and infirm will die. And, of course, some will move away with their families. Have you any plans to leave New York, Mr. Morales?"

"No, Father," Alex said.

"Very well, then," Father Mulrooney said. "I'll see you later for Latin."

"Yes, Father," Alex said. With the lay staff gone and only-three elderly priests left on the faculty, education at St. Vincent de Paul Academy consisted mostly of theology, Latin, and church history. Alex didn't mind that. There was something comforting in those subjects, a connectedness with the past that was soothing when the present was so bad and the future so terrifying.

"Body shopping," he said to Kevin. "Sounds like fun."

"You'll love it," Kevin said. "Bring a face mask and a garbage bag. I'll supply the latex gloves. And when you say your prayers tonight, ask for a fresh crop of corpses."

Alex took a deep breath. "Deal," he said, knowing whatever he'd be doing in the morning, Kevin, at least, thought it would prove worthwhile.

Tuesday, August 9

"Good," Kevin said at seven the next morning. "Face mask and shopping bag. You're set. Here are the latex gloves."

"I put some mentholated gel in this Baggie," Alex said, offering it to Kevin. "Put some under your nose. It helps with the smell."

"Good idea," Kevin said, rubbing it on. "Okay, then. Fifty-fifty, right? Whenever we're together, we split the booty. I'll show you where you can trade it in for food or whatever."

"Fair enough," Alex said.

"Okay, then," Kevin said. "Let's get going. Want to walk across on Eighty-eighth?"

"No," Alex said. "How about Eighty-ninth instead?"

Kevin grinned. "It's taboo, isn't it," he said. "Body shopping on the block where you live. I feel that way, too, even though I don't understand why. Father Mulrooney could probably explain it."

The boys walked up West End Avenue to Eighty-ninth Street. Though there were some bodies on West End Avenue, Kevin walked right past them.

"Nothing worth stopping for," he explained. "You get so you can tell. The glint of a watch is a big help. Watches are always good, but shoes are better, and anything in a wallet: cash, IDs. Coats are a growth market. The colder it gets, the bigger the demand."

"And we can get food for all that?" Alex asked. The food in the Friday bags was getting sparser, and even though he skipped supper most nights and fasted on Saturdays, there was hardly enough for Julie.

Kevin nodded. "You see what I seer" he asked, pointing to a body lying halfway down the block. "We got a fresh one." He jogged over, Alex following him.

It was a man, fully dressed but no coat. "I bet he's been dumped within the past few minutes," Kevin said. "Hardly stinks at all, but maybe that's the menthol. You get the watch; I'll look through the pockets."

Alex begged God's forgiveness, and unstrapped the watch off the dead man's wrist.

"Nothing," Kevin said with a shrug. "Different families handle it different ways. Some of them think ID'll help somehow, before the bodies get dumped in the crematoriums. Others don't want people to know their address. Guess this one is one of them. Shoes next. Nice ones, too. They were crazy not to keep them for themselves."

Alex pulled the left shoe off the body while Kevin took care of the right one.

"This pair's for you," Kevin said. "Put them in your bag. Is that a body I see over there?"

"Yeah, I think so," Alex said. "A woman."

"Men are better than women," Kevin said. "Bigger demand for their shoes. But we should check anyway."

They crossed the street and walked to where the corpse was lying. Alex could smell it half a block down.

"She's a pungent one," Kevin said. "And useless. Look at that: barefoot already."

'How long do you think she's been there?" Alex asked, the bitter taste of bile in his mouth. Most of the woman's flesh had been eaten away, and he could see her partly gnawed bones sticking out from her dress.

"Couple of days probably," Kevin said. "Come on. I see a pile over there. Maybe we'll get lucky."

Alex followed Kevin to the corner of Eighty-ninth and Riverside Drive.

"See how wet Riverside is?" Kevin asked. "That's going to happen all over New York pretty soon. The wetter the city gets, the more people'll need nice dry shoes. Hey, it's a family. Look at that: Daddy, Mommy, and baby."

Alex stared at them. The mother's arms had loosened and the baby had fallen next to her. The father was lying on top of them both.

"I'm going to be sick," Alex said.

"Not on me," Kevin said.

Alex tore the mask off his mouth and turned away from Kevin. He had nothing in his system, but he retched violently. He felt Kevin's hand on his shoulder and turned back to him.

"If we don't take their shoes, someone else will," Kevin said. "See, they were all shot. I bet Daddy shot Mommy and the baby and then himself. Nice of him to do it on the street like this. Or maybe he carried them here and then shot himself. It doesn't matter. I wonder how baby stuff will do. I've traded some kids' things, but never any baby shoes. Booties, that's what they call them, I think."

Alex remembered when Julie was born. I'm doing this for her, he told himself.

"No coats," Kevin said. "But looky here. Daddy's got a brand-new gun."

Alex stared at it. "Are you going to trade it?" he asked.

Kevin shook his head. "It could come in handy someday," he said. "Okay if I keep it?"

"Take it," Alex said.

"Great," Kevin said. "You can have all the shoes, then. I'll keep Daddy's watch and you can have Mommy's."

"Don't call them that," Alex said.

"You don't have to be so touchy," Kevin said. "They're just bodies. Their souls are in heaven or hell or wherever. Probably not Catholics anyway. Come on, take her shoes off. You got to get used to it."

Alex took a deep breath, then pulled off the woman's shoes. Kevin unlaced the man's and took them off. "I'll do the booties," Kevin said.

"Thank you," Alex said.

Kevin shook his head. "You act like you never saw a dead body before," he said. "What are you, a tourist:"

"I don't know," Alex said. "It's different actually touching them."

"It'll be us soon enough," Kevin said. "Tell you what. Let's get our feet wet and walk up a couple more blocks. Then we'll turn this stuff in. When all this turns into loaves and fishes, you'll have a different outlook."

Alex doubted he'd ever feel differently about robbing the dead. But he followed Kevin up Riverside Drive. The water sploshed under his feet, and he could feel his socks getting wet. It was cold out, that weird, unnatural cold he couldn't get accustomed to.

"Do you think we'll ever be warm again?" he asked Kevin.

"We'll be warm enough in hell," Kevin said. "I've got a good feeling about Ninetieth. See? I told you." He ran down the block.

Alex caught up with him. This one wasn't so bad, just an old dead guy. "He has glasses," he said. "Is there a market for them?"

"Good question," Kevin said. "Let's take them and find out. Nice watch. No coat, but I bet that sweater will be worth a can of Dinty Moore. Come on, help me pull it off."

Alex removed the man's glasses and put them in his garbage bag. He grabbed one arm and Kevin grabbed the other, and they pulled the sweater off the body. Alex took the man's loafers while Kevin searched through his pockets.

"Bad day for wallets," he said. "But on the whole a profitable morning's shopping. You ready to trade in the stuff?"

Alex nodded.

"Then let's get going," Kevin said. "Maybe we'll find some more stuff on the way over."

But the only corpses they saw were old and picked over.