The Girl Who Owned a City Read online

  Copyright © 1995 by Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

  All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

  The Girl Who Owned a City is an updated edition of a title previously published by Lerner Publishing Group, Inc. The text is completely reset in 12/15 ITC Berkeley Oldstyle Std.

  Carolrhoda Books

  A division of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

  241 First Avenue North

  Minneapolis, MN 55401 U.S.A.

  Website address: www.lernerbooks.com

  The images in this book are used with the permission of: Front Cover: © Arnulf Husmo/Stone/Getty Images (burning house); © Jpaget Rfphotos/Dreamstime.com (woman); © iStockphoto.com/Chad Thomas (grunge/orange background); © iStockphoto.com/Cristian Dulan (grunge background).

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Nelson, O. T.

  The girl who owned a city / by O. T. Nelson

  p. cm.

  Summary: When a plague sweeps over the earth killing everyone except children under twelve, ten-year-old Lisa organizes a group to rebuild a new way of life.

  ISBN-13: 978–0–8225–3152–4 (lib. bdg. : alk. paper)

  ISBN-10: 0–8225–3152–6 (lib. bdg. : alk. paper)

  ISBN-13: 978–0–8225–9670–7 (pbk. : alk. paper)

  ISBN-10: 0–8225–9670–9 (pbk. : alk. paper)

  [1. Survival—Fiction. 2. Science fiction.] I. Title

  PZ7.N4358G11995

  [Fic]—dc20

  94-29210

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  16 – BP – 7/1/12

  eISBN: 978-1-4677-0004-7 (pdf)

  eISBN: 978-1-4677-3151-5 (ePub)

  eISBN: 978-1-4677-3152-2 (mobi)

  FOR LISA AND TODD

  CHAPTER ONE

  G

  ood! The house was empty. While Lisa waited outside in the cold to be sure, she relaxed for a moment and let herself think about the past.

  At this time a few weeks ago, she had been sitting quietly in her fifth-grade social studies class. There had been no reason to believe that her life would change. Now it was the middle of December. The whole world had changed, and now life seemed terrible.

  What will happen to me? she wondered. Then she swung her leg with all her might. Her boot crashed through the wooden frame and glass of the front door.

  The shattering sound rang in her ears as she reached through the broken pane for the latch. Her movements were quick. She was becoming a good thief.

  Her eyes struggled to adjust to the strange dimness of the room. Lucky I didn’t cut myself that time, she thought, inspecting her hand. But the hand was trembling, and that made her angry.

  There is nothing to be afraid of here! They’re dead, and gone for good. Lisa promised herself never to be afraid again, and to prove it, she screamed at the top of her voice, “I’m here, nobody. I’m here!”

  Not even an echo replied.

  The living room was filled with expensive, comfortable furniture. The big futon seemed especially inviting and made the girl realize how tired she was.

  Not thinking very clearly, she searched the room for a light switch. When she finally found one, she flipped it on. Nothing.

  Dummy! she thought. There isn’t any electricity anymore.

  The odor of spoiled food was coming from the kitchen. The garbage container was crawling with little white maggots. They seemed to be in every kitchen, like tiny ghosts that had moved in to haunt the empty houses.

  The refrigerator was filled with rotten food. She started to reach for some apples that still looked good, but she stopped, guessing that they had picked up the taste of the bad food.

  She went to the pantry and loaded her sack almost to the top with canned food, mostly soup. In the bathroom, she added toothpaste, Tylenol, Kleenex, and two bars of soap.

  Can opener! she remembered. She hunted around in the kitchen until she found one. Her bag was full. After grabbing some candles from the dining room table, she headed for the front door.

  Her actions had become almost automatic. But she was still amazed that she could do the things she had to do—things that the world just hadn’t taught her. She had heard the word “looting” before and knew that it was a kind of stealing. They had looted in the Los Angeles riots just a few years ago.

  But this wasn’t really looting, was it? Whoever owned this house would never be back to claim it. The food and supplies would just go to waste or be taken by some other children. Besides, the things she took would save her life—and Todd’s.

  Lisa moved to the light of a window to look at her watch. It was getting close to four, and Todd would be worried about her. The little brother that she used to think was a pest now depended on her for everything. She didn’t mind. He had become the best thing in her strange life.

  After tucking the watch into her coat pocket, she started toward the door again. She noticed a small writing desk near the window and paused. How neatly the papers were arranged on it! She couldn’t resist the temptation to discover something about the people who had lived in the house. When she sat down at the desk, she suddenly felt very tired. She glanced again at the futon.

  If only I were Goldilocks, she thought, laughing at herself. Then I could have a bowl of warm porridge and take a nap. But there was no time for resting.

  Most of the letters on the desk were about business. As nearly as she could figure out, the Mr. Williams who had lived here had been the president of a company that made tools. There was a stack of partly addressed Christmas cards and one small, sealed letter, marked Special Delivery—Urgent. She opened it.

  Mr. John Williams

  Chandler Military Academy

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Dear Son,

  I have talked seriously with Dr. Chaldon and he offers no hope to your mother and me. We are both very weak and, at the most, we have only a few more days to live. Most of the neighbors are already dead and buried. It’s horrible.

  On the last news broadcast, they said the virus was spreading all over the world. It’s the worst plague in history.

  They say that for some strange reason the sickness is not fatal to children under the age of about 12 years. No adult can survive the infection. As crazy as it sounds, soon there may be no adults left in the world, anywhere. I hope that doesn’t happen.

  But you, son, are too close to the “unsafe” age to take any chances. Please contact my friend Dr. Coffman in Atlanta at 456 Peachtree Street. He has promised to save you some of the new vaccine that has been working for many young people your age. Don’t take any chances. Please go to see him the minute you get this letter.

  I would have telephoned you, but the phone company has gone out of business. They say that the postal system can only hold out for another 10 days. I hope they’ll be able to get this letter through.

  I’m sorry that we never got around to that camping trip to Canada. There are many other plans and dreams that will be lost.

  Your mother and I would be happy to think that you will take this house when we’re gone.

  We love you, son. Be brave.

  Dad

  Lisa put the letter aside, recalling that she had received one very much like it. Her father had sent it from the DuPage County Hospital shortly before he died.

  Tears were welling up in her eyes as she hurried away. She left the shattered front door wide open. John Williams, if
he were still alive, wouldn’t need a key.

  CHAPTER TWO

  H

  er house on Grand Avenue was just four blocks away. Lisa raced down Lenox toward Oak. That street was so different now. By her calculations, she had walked it more than 2,000 times, to and from school, since kindergarten. But now there was no more school, and almost every house on Oak Street and on every other street looked deserted.

  No cars moved. No children played. Were there children inside those houses? It was hard to tell—everyone was hiding. It was scary.

  As she rounded the corner onto Grand, she thought about the children who had disliked, sometimes even hated, their parents. Most children didn’t like being told what to do or how to do it. But now all the adults were gone. Lisa was 10 years old—she was part of the older generation. Could she tell younger kids what to do? Or what was right and what was wrong?

  Her thoughts were interrupted as she passed the second house on Grand Avenue. Jill Jansen, looking hungry, tired, and a little mean, was blocking her path. “What’s in the bag?” she asked. “Can I take a look?”

  After rustling through the contents, Jill demanded a few cans of soup. Ever since the plague, she had been taking in homeless and hungry children. She even had a sign in front of her house saying “Children’s House,” which her brother had ripped off the wall of the Montessori School.

  “Jill,” said Lisa, “Todd and I need all these things. I’ve been out searching for days, and this is the first stuff I’ve found.” But Lisa was unable to resist Jill’s plea. She handed over four cans of soup, some charcoal, and a book of matches.

  Jill hadn’t seen the can opener beneath the soup. That was lucky! They were valuable, and she would have wanted it. Most homes had electric openers, which were now useless. With all those kids around, the girl thought, why can’t they go out and find their own food?

  Todd was waiting at the door. “Lisa, I’m hungry!”

  “I know, Todd, but look what I found for us—soup and matches. I was afraid we would run out. Hide the food in the space under the stairs, and give me the matches. I’ll light the charcoal.”

  Dinner was simple—soup heated over the barbecue grill and soda crackers. They had powdered milk, mixed with water from Lake Ellyn that Lisa had boiled to make safe.

  While they ate in silence, Lisa thought about their strange new life. There were no more conveniences like electric ovens or running water. No fresh milk and no eggs. No fruit, bread, butter, or ice cream. All the things that they had once taken for granted were gone. But at least they had a home, and there were empty houses where she could search for supplies.

  Now Lisa was thinking of last Tuesday. Or was it Wednesday? She couldn’t remember. She and Todd had gone to the Rainbow Foods at Five Corners, hoping to find supplies, but someone had thought of the idea before them. The glass door was smashed and the shelves had nothing that they wanted. The cash register had been broken open and robbed.

  What will these kids do with the money? she had wondered. Money is useless now. There are no places to spend it.

  She’d never forget the happy look on Todd’s face when he found a kite that had fallen behind the candy counter. “Todd, you dummy! We won’t have time to play with kites,” she had said, and then had promised herself that they would make the time. “Oh, all right. Put it in the cart.”

  Lisa used to hate her little brother for getting more attention than her. But now she needed him and took care of him. It was strange how her feelings had changed. Everything was all upside down.

  The shelves of that store had not been completely emptied, though. They were well stocked with all of the things that children don’t like. There were cans of asparagus and spinach. She took them. The vitamin and medicine rack was still full. She emptied it. The first invaders had also left valuable stuff like candles, paper plates, and instant breakfast. She took it all.

  Soon the cart was filled. Todd pushed a second empty grocery cart toward her, and they began filling it with more supplies. Lisa laughed, thinking of the stomachaches those first invaders must have had from all the candy and pop they took.

  In a way, she had been glad that those things were all gone. She would have given anything for some nachos and a Coke, but she knew that Todd wouldn’t eat right if their house was filled with treats.

  Someone had broken a jar of popcorn, and one aisle of the store was littered with unpopped kernels. They might have been the only treat left in the world. Lisa scooped several handfuls into her coat pocket. As they left, the two children had looked back at the strange, deserted store.

  “Can I have some more soup?” Todd’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “Sure. Here, Todd.” She gave him what was left in her bowl and slipped back into her thoughts.

  Is this Sunday? Lisa wondered, not being sure. She and Todd had to plan their days, and keeping track of the time was still important. She had given him their father’s watch. When she promised to be back at a certain time, she would make sure to do so. Todd wouldn’t worry if he could count the hours by his watch.

  Since the plague, Todd had worked hard and learned many new things. It was one of his daily jobs to dump the garbage in the Triangle woods across the street. From Lake Ellyn he carried pails of water, which they stored in the downstairs tub. Because Lisa worried about his safety, she made him carry an unloaded gun. He couldn’t use it, but he could scare people with it.

  Though he hated to wash dishes, he did manage to get the plates and bowls and glasses pretty clean. It was funny to watch him perch on the tall wooden stool by the sink. The dishes were going fast—he broke at least one each day. Paper plates had been nice, while they lasted.

  “Hurry and get the dishes done, Todd. It’s getting dark.” Lisa went outside to put out the charcoal, but since the coals were still hot, she decided to make some popcorn. The sound and the smell brought back memories of picnics and family.

  Other children, close by, also smelled the popping corn. Pretty soon the backyard was filled with hungry neighbors. They had spent very little time together since the plague.

  The popcorn was a little burnt and chewy, but delicious. The children stood outside, while a cold wind blew through their hair and clothing. They ate in silence, washing away the salty taste with glasses of lukewarm fruit juice. They were remembering what popcorn parties used to be like.

  Lisa had spotted the gangs roaming at night.

  “Todd, bring the hammer and nails,’’ she said. ‘‘We’ve got to board up the windows before we go to bed.” Todd did as he was told, though he didn’t understand why it was necessary.

  For extra protection, they nailed several boards over each window. The job took almost an hour and, by the time they were finished, it was dark. The nails were too small, and any strong man could have ripped the boards away. But Lisa and Todd were safe tonight, because no strong man would try to break in. There were no men.

  By the light of a Christmas candle, they locked the doors and went to the small room in the basement. The room had no windows and it was, they thought, a safe place to spend their nights. In the months and years before the plague, it had been used by their father as a study. The room was cold and cheerless, and they had never understood why he liked it there. But now, after many nights in that room, the two children had grown to like it. It felt safe.

  They climbed into the small bed they had moved into the room. Lisa was glad to have her brother with her, and he was glad to have her, too.

  “Lisa, please tell me a story,” he said.

  For some reason, tears started to form in her eyes and she wanted to cry. She wasn’t afraid, really. Her confidence was growing. She didn’t know why she felt like crying. Since that first day when they were truly alone, Lisa had been too busy for tears.

  “Please tell me a story. About . . . about . . . about . . . .” He laughed because he still thought his pretended stammer was funny. She laughed too, not because she thought it was funny, but because she jus
t wanted to laugh. He was cute when he tried to be funny.

  “. . . about . . . about Todd and Barney and when they went fishing,” he finished.

  “Well,” she began her familiar story:

  Todd and Barney Beagle wanted to help Lisa find food to eat. She was always bringing canned soup, and nothing was ever fresh. There was never even any hamburger. So Todd decided he would take the fishing pole out of the garage and get some worms and try to catch fish at Perry’s Pond.

  It was a warm, sunny day, and Todd asked Lisa to take him to the pond. He was afraid of getting lost. She walked with him and made him promise to come home in one hour. Toddy-boy looked at his watch and asked, “Would that be at ten?” She said yes and went back to the house.

  Todd put his hook into the water just like Uncle Pete had shown him. Barney was wagging his tail. He liked the feel of the sun on his fur.

  Nothing happened. No fish were biting. Toddy-boy wondered if there were any fish in that dumb pond. Maybe they got sick and died too, he thought.

  Then he remembered that he didn’t have a worm on the hook. He pulled out his line, laid it down on the bank, and thought for awhile.

  He remembered that Uncle Pete used to find worms under the leaves in the wet dirt. Todd walked toward the woods and dug with his hands until he found a small worm. Barney got excited and barked at the worm.

  Todd laughed at the image, and Lisa continued.

  Todd went back to the place where his fishing pole was and put the worm on the hook. It looked funny hanging there, but that’s the way Uncle Pete did it. Todd put the line in the water and waited.

  He waited and waited, but nothing happened. He said to Barney, “We’re not going to quit. We’ve got to catch a fish. I don’t want any more soup.”

  They waited for a long time, and then Todd decided to move to another spot. Maybe the fish live over by that big rock, he thought, so he dropped his line in the water near the rock. He waited some more. It seemed like forever. He waited and waited until it was almost ten. I’ve got to catch a fish, he thought.