“You think so?”
“Yes. Now, can you scooch on over to the kitchen and check the cupboards for food?”
He meandered into the kitchen and started rooting around in the pantry on all fours. His cat was nearby, watching him with interest. “Jackpot,” he exclaimed.
“What is it?” I came nearer to peer over his shoulder.
“Cat food,” he said with a triumphant smile and held up several cans of Fancy Feast. I suppressed a groan and scanned the pantry to find that the rest of the shelves were bare.
“Feed your cat one can now and you can take three more with you, but that’s it. We have to save room for people food.”
I wasn’t above eating cat food in a pinch, but I’d really rather not. Kitten frowned, but for once didn’t argue with me. He did take forever reading all the different varieties and asking his cat which one it would prefer. I’d searched the entire downstairs while he was still making his selection.
“Tuna is always a winner,” I said to him.
He nodded and opened the can. At least the damned cat had a sense of urgency and set about eating as if it hadn’t had three square meals a day, every day, since Greenville.
“Come with me upstairs,” I told Kitten because I didn’t want to leave him down there alone.
“Remember Thanksgiving? Remember Halloween?” he said with a soft smile as I guided him up the fancy curving staircase. I resolved that today’s tasks would simply take longer.
“Yeah,” I said. “One time my sister and I dressed up as Princess Azula and Prince Zuko fromAvatar,mainly because I wanted a pair of double broadswords, even though they were only plastic.”
“You have a sister?” he asked.
“Had,” I corrected.
“She died too?” he said, his pretty eyes getting gloomy.
“She did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. That was our favorite show growing up.” I left it at that, since bawling in the middle of a mission was never a good look, and instead asked him, “What was your favorite Halloween costume?”
“I was Pikachu one year. My mom found me a yellow jumper and made me ears to go with it. She painted my face too.”
“That’s cute.”
“My mom thought so. She took a ton of pictures.”
“I’d like to see them.” For once, I allowed myself to remember life before the virus, when my biggest concern had been how to take the perfect selfie and which jeans were cool enough to wear to school. I didn’t even have any pictures of my family, not anymore. They’d all burned in the fire at The Admiral.
“I’ll show you sometime,” he said, “if we ever get back to my house.”
“I’m sure we will,” I said, though I really had no idea.
He followed me from room to room as I took a quick inventory of what might be useful. Most of the medications in the bathrooms had expired long ago, but I did grab some mouthwash—that shit lasted forever. There were a couple of used toothbrushes too, and though I was tempted to grab one for myself, I’d hold out a little while longer. No floss, but I still had some from previous hunts. For whatever reason, toothpaste was a rarity, and there was none there either. While I searched, I told Kitten the importance of good oral hygiene, mainly because a good dentist was hard to find and anesthesia was even rarer. “Artemis can pull a tooth in a pinch,” I said because I’d seen her do it before. Gizmo fashioned her a little curved set of pliers that she attached to the hand of her prosthetic arm. Then it was just “say ahhhh” and yank the fucker out.
“Are you serious?” Kitten asked, horrorstruck, and I considered it a teachable moment.
“Dead serious. That’s why you should always remember to brush and floss your teeth before bed.”
We were finally finishing up with the house—must have taken two hours or more—when Macon busted through the backdoor like the goddamned police and shouted, “Guys, I found a football and a pump. The game is fucking on.”
Kitten stared at me, dumbfounded, and I shook my head. Macon with a ball was a menace.
* * *
