The Dead Travel Fast

Chapter 9

9

I felt a little better when I put my hand in my pockets and found some loose cash. It wasn’t much, but it could be helpful. Maybe, just maybe, I would be okay. After all, there were lots of homeless people in Boston, and they seemed to be getting by. I was just one more homeless person, right? Maybe living without a home wouldn’t be as bad as it seemed, I thought. But I already knew that this was wishful thinking, just a way to distract myself from the end that seemed to be coming closer and closer in the form of either starvation or suicide.

I could see now why some people jumped off bridges. In a world without my family, it was tempting. But for now, I was still selfish enough to care about my own survival. It made me feel guilty—why should I live when my family had lost their lives? Why had they died instead of me? They were obviously more worthwhile people than I was. A lot of people would miss them, and few would ever have missed me. I really did wish that I could take their place. However, at the same time, I somehow still had that instinctive desperation to survive that had always seemed to mark my existence, and I would do what I could to live. Even if living while my family was dead would make me feel worse than worthless. Worthless, after all, was how I had always felt.

I walked to the nearest dollar store, hoping to buy some food and maybe a blanket. Every step that I took seemed to take me further away from reality. Reality was the everyday life that I had always had. But now that had all been shattered, and everything felt like some sort of weird dream. It didn’t help that my mud-stained, ripped coat and grimy face attracted much more attention than I was accustomed to. Boston looked the same as ever, but I felt like I had entered another universe, one that looked similar but was nothing like the universe that I had come from. The air was much colder, the people were much less friendly, and I was much more out of place.

I shivered. Alternate universe or no, the air was frigid, much colder than it had been the previous day.

I reached the store. I spent a long time trying to decide what the cheapest options were—an experience that I had never had before. I ended up getting some energy bars, a water bottle, and a thin blanket that could roll up really small. The cashier gave me some funny looks, and I couldn't meet her eyes.

“Do you want the change?” The cashier handed me the plastic bag.

I nodded.

She gave me the change, which was a grand total of one cent. I stuck the penny in my coat pocket, and, feeling the emptiness, realized that I had used up all of my money.

I looked from the empty pocket to the plastic bag with such meager contents and then back again at the pocket. A sick feeling rose inside my stomach, and my vision got blurry with tears. Not once in my life had I ever been without money, and from now on, I would have to figure out how to survive without it. In other words, I was screwed, because I had no idea how to do that. I started to cry right there in the store, with people all around me staring. It had been bad enough to look the way I did, but now I was bawling my eyes out in public. Being the center of attention had always been one of my worst fears, and that fear was now magnified a hundred times.

“Um.” The cashier grimaced at me, obviously confused. “I’m sorry…did I—?”

Other customers started to make faces at her. She said, “Listen, kid, are you okay? Where are your parents?”

This only made me sob even harder. My emotions rendered me unable to talk, and, plagued by mortification and embarrassment, I fled from the store, all those stupid people staring after me.

I had to keep going. I had to survive. I was sure I couldn’t do it.