“She uses birthdays for all her passwords. Sometimes she writes them out, like here.” He showed her the webpage for Jill’s Target card. “The password is March25 and the PIN is 0325.”
Helen looked at Teddy. He’s such a weird little guy, she thought. Maybe a genius, or close. How could he figure out things like that? They were so unalike. He was small and brown and she was tall and fair. He was smart and self-contained and she was pretty and popular. Helen used to categorize their differences to underscore how little they had in common. Now that they only had each other, they had everything in common.
Although the disease had crested in Atlanta, people were still hesitant to go out. Some businesses had reopened, but restaurants mostly stayed closed and the shelves in grocery stores were practically empty. Helen had been making a list just in case they found a way to buy supplies. On the list were peanut butter, cookie dough ice cream, macaroni and cheese, Honey Nut Cheerios, Froot Loops, and toilet paper.
The children ransacked the house looking for cash. Jill’s wallet was empty. There were credit cards in her purse but they probably didn’t work, and the children wouldn’t be authorized to use them anyway. Jill had been too confused in the last days of her life to prepare for the consequences of her death.
They rode their bikes to Little Five Points, where there was a Bank of America ATM. It was strange outside, reminding Helen of a big snowstorm when all the streets were empty and enchanted and there was no school. It was exactly like that but without the snow.
The ATM was out of money. And so was the one on Ponce de León.
“We could steal stuff,” Teddy said. “Everybody’s doing it.”
“I’m scared of getting caught.”
“But if we get caught, they’ll take care of us, right?”
That seemed logical. There was a Kroger on Caroline Street, but Helen got scared when she saw the armed guards. Teddy wanted to go in, but Helen got back on her bike and headed home.
“What are we going to do now?” Teddy asked.
Helen went through the cabinets again. About the only thing remaining was their dad’s bourbon in the liquor cabinet. Helen stared at it. “We’re going to make a trade,” she told Teddy, brandishing the bottle. “Mrs. Hernández is an alcoholic, like something terrible. She’ll give anything for this.”
Teddy made a face.
“I don’t want to do it, either,” said Helen, “but we have to do something!”
The two of them stood at the bottom of the stairwell. “Mrs. Hernández?” Helen called, a little too quietly. There was no response.
“Maybe she’s not up there,” Teddy whispered.
“Her car is here. And she never goes anywhere anyways.”
The bulb in the stairwell had still not been changed, and the stairs creaked spookily. Helen knocked on the door at the top of the stairs, but there was no answer, no sound of footsteps. Helen waited a moment, then pounded on the door. “Mrs. Hernández!” Then Teddy joined in, both of them shouting, “Mrs. Hernández! Mrs. Hernández!”
The door was locked. Helen looked apprehensively at Teddy, then broke a glass pane with the bourbon bottle. She reached inside and unlocked the door.
There was a dead cat stinking up the living room.
The children stood uncertainly, their hearts pounding.
“Mrs. Hernández?” Helen said in little more than a whisper. She was beginning to lose her nerve, but then Teddy walked ahead of her. At the end of the hall was Mrs. Hernández’s bedroom. The door was partially open. A powerful now-familiar odor drifted out of it.
“Mrs. Hernández?”
Teddy pushed the door open. It was hard to make out exactly what was happening at first, then Helen screamed. The black cat that was eating Mrs. Hernández’s face wheeled around and hissed. Teddy pulled the door shut, and the children ran toward the stairs.
Suddenly, Helen stopped. Something inside her that was deeper than fear took control. She insisted on surviving. She insisted that Teddy would live. She didn’t care what it took. She would not give up.
She forced herself to return to Mrs. Hernández’s kitchen and examine the pantry. There was some grown-up cereal, jelly, stale bread, and about twenty cans of cat food. In the refrigerator were several bottles of wine, milk, three Dr Peppers, carrots, and half a carton of eggs that were probably bad. Helen got a grocery sack and