"Don't use language like that," Alex said automatically, and in spite of himself, he laughed.

Humility, he reminded himself. God wasn't singling him out. If he placed his faith in Christ and used whatever brain cells he had left, the solution would come to him. Because somewhere there was a solution. There had to be. There had to.

Sunday, December 4

"Come on," Bri said, going into the living room and shaking Alex awake. "It's Sunday. We don't want to miss Mass."

"Go back to bed," Alex said. "You'll freeze standing there."

"I'm not so cold," Bri said. "Besides, there's heat at St. Margaret's. Please, Alex. Get ready, and then I'll wake Julie."

Alex reluctantly climbed out of the sleeping bag and walked to the window. He pulled the blanket away and gestured for Bri to join him.

"Look out there," he said. "There's snow and sleet and snow on top of the sleet. How the hell do you think we're going to get to church?"

"We can manage," Bri said. "I won't hold you back, I promise."

"No," Alex said. "Maybe next Sunday if the snow disappears. But not today."

Bri began to cry.

"What?" Alex said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. "It's just one Sunday. God will understand."

Bri shook her head. "It's not that," she said. "I know Christ will forgive us for not going to church today." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know everyone is suffering. It's just I feel so trapped. Sunday is the only day I'm outside. I guess God could tell my motives were impure. I'll pray for His forgiveness."

"Tell you what," Alex said. "Go back to bed and sleep a while longer. We'll all pray this afternoon for God's forgiveness."

Bri giggled. "Julie'll love that," she said. "But thanks, Alex, for understanding."

"I try," Alex said. "Now go. You may not be cold, but I'm freezing."

Bri gave her brother a quick kiss. "See you later," she said, going back to her room.

Alex continued to stare outside. A foot of snow, he estimated, with an inch or more of ice sandwiched in there. Bri was right to feel trapped.

He dressed quickly, wrote a note for his sisters saying he was going out to see how conditions were, then walked down the twelve flights of stairs. Down was easier than up, but he was still short of breath by the time he reached the building's lobby.

The front door opened inward, so it was no problem getting it open. But the snow was even deeper than he'd guessed.

He cursed himself as he walked down to Papi's office in search of a shovel and rock salt. He should have eaten something. It was going to be hard enough to shovel the snow just so they could get out of the building. It would be that much harder with his not having eaten in twenty hours.

But the thought of climbing the twelve flights just to ram cold rice and beans into his mouth was even worse. He'd manage. He had no choice.

The shovel and bag of rock salt were right where he remembered. Of all Papi's janitorial obligations, this was the one he liked the least, so Carlos and Alex had done the brunt of the shoveling. It had snowed a lot the previous winter; Alex could remember a half dozen mornings when Papi woke him before dawn so he could get the shoveling done before the people in the building got up. Papi gave him hell if he left any snow on the sidewalk, even though scores of people would walk over it and it would melt before noon.

He tried carrying both the shovel and the twenty-pound bag of rock salt, but couldn't manage it. So he left the bag of rock salt in the stairwell, and took the shovel upstairs. He could hear Papi laughing at him for his weakness, and he used his anger and resentment to give him the energy he needed* to clear the snow from in front of the door.

The work was brutal. It was a heavy snow, and with the ice intermixed, every shovelful took all his strength to lift and carry. It didn't help that twice as he flung the snow onto a pile of decomposing bodies, he found he was also tossing rats that had frozen in the snowfall. After a few minutes he realized he needed to stop just to catch his breath every single time he shoveled. He really was blanducho, the way Papi always said.

After half an hour he'd cleared enough space in front of the door that he could stand outside and survey what remained to be done. Not that much really, he decided. Just shovel from the building to the street, then shovel West Eighty-eighth down to West End, then West End to Columbus Circle, and over to Eighth Avenue, and then down Eighth to Forty-second Street and Port Authority. Probably not even that much. If the powerful people had had the good sense to leave some other people around to do the cleaning for them, from Columbus Circle down was probably clear of snow. He'd only have to shovel for a mile and a half. Piece of cake for a level twelve.

He still had no idea how he could get Bri from Eighty-eighth Street downtown. He doubted she'd have the strength to walk as far as Broadway.

Alex began shoveling from the building to the street, not knowing what else to do. He was accustomed to the silence now, but except for the wind whipping around, things seemed even quieter than they had been just two days before. The whole block was deserted, he realized. He, Bri, and Julie seemed to be the only people still alive on West Eighty-eighth. When they left, there'd be nobody.

He stood for a moment, resting against the shovel. He never should have let Bri go to the convent. That was the first mistake. If he hadn't sent her away, she would have gone with Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Lorraine, and for all he knew, she never would have become asthmatic. If he'd known Bri was someplace safe, he could have looked for a place for Julie to go. It might not have been with la familia, but things hadn't been that desperate in June, and there would have been somebody trustworthy who'd have agreed to take her and protect her.

And if he hadn't had his sisters tying him down, he could have left New York and tried his luck elsewhere. Maybe he could have tracked down Carlos and joined the Marines. Carlos was probably someplace warm, eating three meals a day and sleeping in a real bed. That was the life.

He felt like screaming. Every single thing he'd done had been wrong, and his sisters' lives were at risk because of him.

He got on his knees, not caring that the icy wetness seeped through his pants legs, and begged for God's mercy for his sisters.

"Alex?"

He looked up and saw Julie standing in the doorway.

"What?" he said.

"Bri told me to get you," she said. "She was worried."

He stood up, feeling like a fool. "Tell her I'm fine," he said. "I'll be upstairs in a few minutes. I have to finish shoveling the sidewalk."

"You don't have to," Julie asked. "There's no one here except us."

"I know," Alex said. "But Papi would expect me to."