The Girl in Red

What Red wanted was to find a place to camp for the night and build a fire, and she needed a decent clearing for that. This place was far too flammable, what with all the low brush, and there was no place to pitch her tent except right on the path. She didn’t cherish the idea of another exposed night in her hammock.

And there was not a chance in hell that she was going to leave these two hungry kids out here in the middle of nowhere. They might die of starvation (although they did seem fairly enterprising; they might figure something out even if it involved eating pine needles) or get picked up by a patrol or . . .

Or worse. A lot worse. Red had no trouble at all thinking about what the worst might be, with gangs of men roving about and no law to stop them. There are things far more terrible than dying.

The kids were probably safe enough in the woods, but they’d have to venture into populated areas to find food, and that was where the horror would be. Those men, like the men who’d killed Dad and Mama, weren’t the types to go tramping through the woods in hopes of slim pickings. They would stick to towns and cities, scooping up survivors. So as long as Red (and Sam and Riley) kept far away from houses and shops they would be okay.

But how long could they stay away from houses and shops? How long could they live on increasingly stale granola bars?

“Listen,” Red said, because she sensed that trying to ease into Sam’s trust would be too time-consuming. She might be there all day trying to wheedle the kids into coming with her. Better to be straight up about it. “I’ve got lots of food in my bag, and a tent, too. And I know how to build a fire. I’m not going to hurt you, and if you come with me I’ll share my tent and my food and my fire and then maybe you can walk along with me awhile, because I’m alone and I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Red kept her eyes on Sam as she spoke, because Sam was the one she would have to convince. Riley looked ready to jump out of the shrubbery the second Red mentioned the food.

“How do we know you’re really alone?” Sam asked, eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean?” Riley asked. “There she is, all by herself. Obviously she’s alone.”

“No ‘obviously’ about it,” Sam said. “She could have followed us and left behind her buddies and when we go to a place to pitch the tent those buddies will jump out and . . . hurt us.”

The last bit was said in a very small voice, a tiny voice that knew something of how kids might be hurt by adults trying to trick them.

“I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t have any buddies. Truth. I do have a whole box of spaghetti and jarred tomato sauce,” Red said. “And I can’t eat them all myself.”

“Spaghetti,” Riley said, and there was so much longing in that word—a longing not just for food but for shelter, a table, a family, warmth. “Do you have meatballs, too? Because spaghetti and meatballs are the best.”

“No way, lasagna is the best,” Red said.

Riley stuck out his tongue. “Mama always put beef in the lasagna and also melty cheese. I don’t like melty cheese.”

“The beef is the same as the meatballs, only not rolled up,” Red said. “And how can you not like melty cheese? Melty cheese is like the only reason for living. Don’t you like grilled cheese sandwiches?”

“No way! Gross!” Riley said.

Red gave Sam an incredulous look. “Who doesn’t like grilled cheese?”

“He doesn’t,” Sam said, though she still hadn’t lost her suspicious glare. “He never liked anything with cheese on it.”

He. Okay. Riley was a boy. One down.

“Do you like grilled cheese?” Red asked Sam.

“She loooooves grilled cheese,” Riley said. “She loves it so much she wants to marry it.”

“Shut up, Riley,” Sam said. “Who wants to marry a grilled cheese?”

She. Sam was a girl. A brother and sister. Just like Red and Adam. Except that they were together, and Red and Adam were not.

Don’t think about Adam.

“How can you eat pizza if you don’t like melty cheese?” Red asked Riley.

“He eats pizza without cheese,” Sam said, whispering the last two words as if they were a bit of scandalous gossip.

“No,” Red said, giving Riley a horrified look. “Just bread and sauce?”

“Bread and sauce and pepperoni and olives,” Riley said, and Red and Sam both said “ewwwww” together and they all started giggling.

“So will you come with me?” Red asked. “I know it’s what all the adults say, but I really am not going to hurt you.”

“Come on, Sam,” Riley said in a wheedling tone. “Spaghetti! Don’t you want spaghetti?”

Sam looked from Riley to Red, then waved her hand at Red. “Go away for a minute so we can talk in private.”

Red hesitated, because she didn’t want Sam to grab Riley and dart into the woods when her back was turned. But if she didn’t show that she trusted them, then the kids might never trust her. If she seemed too eager to keep an eye on them, then Sam might think she was a kidnapper or something.