The Girl in the City Read Online Free

father’s disappointment.
    “Dad?” she called, her voice brittle.
    No one replied.
    She rolled off her bed, swaying slightly as the blood rushed to her head, then hurried downstairs. She ran from room to room, expecting to find her father somewhere. She checked her watch. She’d been asleep almost three hours. Surely he’d be back by now. Concern slowly raised its ugly head, panic coming along for the ride. She didn’t see the note resting on the table until her second trip through the kitchen. It was in her father’s neat script.
     
    Leah,
     
    Had to go out, didn’t want to wake you. Sandwich in the fridge.
     
    Love,
    Dad
     
    The sandwich was simple, just a thin slice of anemic cheese between two slices of dry bread. The bread was thin, the sides ragged where her father had cut one slice into two. Leah felt another pang of guilt at having lost her salvage. Without anything to trade, they’d be forced to eke out their meager supplies for even longer. The guilt and her restless sleep had stolen Leah’s appetite, and she left the sandwich in the fridge.
    Leah sat at the kitchen table, reading and rereading her father’s note as though doing so might reveal some hidden meaning. She didn’t like not knowing where he was, and the thought that she’d made him angry left a sick feeling in her stomach. She felt the tears well up again, but she blinked them away and took a deep breath. She’d find a way to make up for losing the salvage. Somehow.
    Leah’s thoughts drifted to the man in the alley, the blankness in his eyes, the blood flowing from his leg. She shuddered. She pushed the memories away, focusing instead on the problem of restoring her father’s faith in her. She’d go out scavenging again tonight, of course—if he let her—but there was no guarantee she’d find something they could trade. The rural zone was rapidly being picked clean by the Wild Ones, and she had to roam farther and farther to find anything of value. That was why she’d gone to the encampment. That was how she’d ended up in this mess.
    Her stomach gave an irritated gurgle, and the answer hit her. Suddenly excited, she checked the clock. The timing was perfect—if she was quick. Grinning, Leah grabbed a salvage bag from a hook in the cupboard beneath the stairs and ran out of the house.

    The Amish came to the City once a week, to trade food for what few resources they needed from the City’s inhabitants. Sometimes they would stay in the City for a few days, quietly going about their business while the people around them whispered and pointed. Leah had never spoken to the Amish, although she’d heard a little about them from her father, and they seemed to have the sort of life she might enjoy herself. She often found a hiding spot near the square in the merchant zone and watched the men unload the wagons of grain, bread, and meat. Once the wagons were empty, they’d refill them with medicine or a few pieces of salvaged metal to take back to the Amish Zone where they lived. She’d never quite understood why the Amish gave so much for so little. The City needed them so much more than they needed the City. But today she was grateful for the Amish’s generosity.
    When Leah arrived, there were already queues outside the food distribution center at the entrance to the square. A couple of dozen men and women stood quietly, their paper food vouchers gripped tightly in their hands. They watched as the Amish loaded up the handcarts that would take the food to the distribution center and others like it around the city. A Transport policeman walked along the line, checking the vouchers and searching the cloth bags each of the men and women carried.
    Leah crept around the edge of the square, to her favorite hiding spot behind a pile of battered old crates that had been there as long as she could remember. When she was out of sight behind the crates, Leah looked around the square.
    Four of the handcarts had been lined up against a wall,