Generation M by Scott Cramer Read Free Book Online Page B

sick.
    “Let’s go,” Lexi said and slipped into the crowd.
    Abby hobbled after her because Lexi now possessed the two most important items in her life: the walkie-talkie and the fish. She followed her down streets and driveways, and through mazes of winding alleyways until they entered the front door of a building and exited the back. The inhabitants, girls and boys around ten years old, paid little attention to them, as if strangers parading through their home happened all the time.
    Abby settled into a strangely serene rhythm, skating her feet along the ground. The cramps in her stomach and aches in her joints seemed to have reached a peak.
    A fight broke out between two boys on the sidewalk ahead of them. Others joined in and soon a tornado of fists blocked the path. Abby wondered if she was witnessing a consequence of the epidemic — kids fighting each other for scraps of food.
    Lexi slung the pack to her chest, wrapped her arms around the fish, and reversed direction.
    Later, with the sun high overhead, they came to a pool of water at an intersection, the result of a clogged storm drain. The reflection of the surrounding buildings shimmered on the brown surface. Abby’s throat was dry from breathing through her mouth, but she feared that if she stopped for a drink, her muscles would seize up for good.
    She watched Lexi wade up to her ankles and cup her hand to slurp water. She told herself to keep moving and plodded ahead, raising her eyes high up to the rooftops. The sound of swishing and splashing reminded her of her mom shouting, “Get ready, get set, go!” when she and Jordan would race at the beach, seeing who could reach the water first.
    Still wading through the puddle, Abby stumbled and cried out as her right thigh muscle coiled into a knot. When she shifted her weight to her other leg, she felt a braid of searing pain from hip to ankle. Losing her balance, she flung her arms outward and tried whipping her right leg forward, but the limb was stiff and unresponsive. She crashed into the puddle.
    Abby had a frog’s view of the world, peering across the puddle. She opened her mouth to let the water soothe her tongue and the back of her throat. She swallowed and choked.
    Lexi helped her to her feet and slapped her hard between the shoulder blades until Abby stopped coughing. Then, she wrapped Abby’s arm around her waist and guided her forward. “We’re almost there.”
    “Where?” Abby asked, willing her legs to keep moving.
    “Toby’s car.”
    The news gave her a boost of energy and troubled her at the same time. Why had Lexi not told her their destination before?
    “Please keep the pack dry.” Unable to shake her distrust of Lexi, Abby stopped short of telling her about the walkie-talkie.
    She trained her eyes on the ground and focused on each step. The changing composition of the surface served as her measuring stick of progress. Patches of ash and cinders turned into a solid carpet of gray ash that thickened and made a soft crunching sound under their feet.
    Lexi steered her around objects that had burned or melted. “Just a few more blocks. You can do it.”
    Abby lifted her eyes. Fire had gutted many of the four-story brick houses on both sides. Some buildings were nothing but heaps of broken rubble. The only cars she saw had burned. The street was a graveyard of charred cars. “Where is everyone?”
    “Nobody lives here anymore,” Lexi explained. “After the night of the purple moon, a factory burned, and the fumes made everyone sick. Rumor is, the air can still make you sick.”
    Three blocks deeper into the wasteland of ash, Lexi led her to an alley entrance and looked around. Apparently satisfied that nobody was following, Lexi tightened her grip and started down the alley. Abby panicked at the high brick walls that bowed and bulged. They appeared ready to collapse at any moment. At the end was a car covered in ash and bird poop. The tires were flat. Abby’s shoulders drooped to her