Lissa woke to the morning rustlings of the small, furry bodies curled next to her, letting her body absorb their extra warmth before she had to get up in the chill. She stroked one cat, then the other as her eyes adjusted to the dim light entering the dingy apartment. She fumbled for her pack by her head. Heaving a sigh of relief that her only possessions, other than what she wore, were safe; she glanced at her cats, one black and one tabby, both staring back with their amber eyes. 

She reached under her lumpy pillow for her sturdy shoes and swung her stocking feet to the floor. She jiggled the largest holes away from her big toes, positioning them for maximum coverage. Her thermal socks wouldn’t last the coming winter. Maybe she should scrounge for another pair or two of Icebreakers today, even if the neighborhood was picked clean. She’d have to range farther afield, which meant sneaking past the soldiers beyond the refugee center, the ones stationed around the perimeter to discourage looting in the abandoned city.  

Rising early allowed her to use the lone bathroom before the others. Twenty-seven people currently shared the one-bedroom apartment. And two cats. Unlike most of the cramped accommodations, there were no rats in 6B.

Taking her pack, Lissa used the toilet, splashed with cold water from the sink, and washed essential areas, missing the days when she could linger under a hot shower. Afterward, she combed her dark blonde hair and rebraided it with deft fingers. She brushed her teeth and headed back to her cot. Old sheets strung on taut wire separated one cot from another, making walkways between rows of army cots. 

From her pack, she removed the cat harnesses and readied their leashes. Her stomach growled. The refugee center no longer provided much in the way of meals though there might be gruel at mid-day. One steady meal she didn’t have to supply and the comfort and safety in numbers kept her living here despite the overcrowding. 

She slung her canteen across her body, tied her shoes, and took stock. Pack, cats, jacket. Nothing else to take. The saggy cot and scratchy wool blanket belonged to the army. 

Lissa tugged on her warm jacket and whistled for Mira and Luna. “Out,” she said, her voice firm. Both stood, stretched, and jumped off the bed. Mira twined around Lissa’s feet, her black body round and sleek. Luna rubbed on Lissa’s hiking shoes, butting her head along the laces. Whoever thought pets would have it rough at the end of the world hadn’t counted on the survival skills of felines. They’d become half feral, allowing only Lissa to touch them. Perhaps they sensed the growing desperate hunger in the others. 

She whistled again and both cats sat on the dirt-encrusted laminate flooring by her feet, staring at her without blinking. She fastened the harnesses and leashes, getting ready to depart. There’d been attempts to steal the hunting cats more than once, but they’d eluded all attempts at capture. Still, best to keep them close inside. 

She inhaled, the ripe body smell pervading the crowded apartment particularly potent this morning. With the cooler fall weather creeping in, she’d hoped it would reek less than it had in the sweltering summer. No such luck. She probably smelled just as awful as the others living in the apartment complex, each unit now home to several dozen individuals, most alone or in twos. 

In the far corner, beyond the flimsy curtain and two beds over, the Anderson baby started to cry. Lissa heaved a sigh as the Yu baby across the room joined in, then another further away in the back bedroom—thin, hungry cries in morning concert. Time to go before 6B became a cacophony of tears and frustrated voices laced with desperation. She couldn’t concentrate when everyone was awake. How much more of this could she take? 

She’d been in the Denver refugee center since the asteroid strike.. In the beginning, she’d hoped her husband might show, but after sixteen months with no news, hope had dwindled. While she at least had a roof over her head, the constant presence of people was often too much. She was used to being alone. 

Pack on, leashes in hand, she hurried down six flights of gloomy concrete, the only light entering from the hallways at each level, the doors propped open. At the bottom, Lissa crossed the shabby lobby now devoid of decoration. Everything had been stripped and repurposed—another sign of the current society, where art and luxury were outdated. 

A tall shadow lurched off the wall, followed by three others near the column by the front entrance. Mr. Blackburn and his sons. Shit. The opportunistic jerks were early today, perhaps waiting for her.

“If it isn’t the rat girl. Where you going, rat girl? Don’t you need to pack?” 

She ignored her former employer and kept walking toward the exit. What was he blathering about? His claw-like fingers grabbed her arm and she ground to a halt. She wrenched her arm free and glared. His sweaty face was gaunt, his cheeks sunken and filthy. Was he sick? His graying hair was disheveled and he needed a haircut. An apocalypse was no reason to be unkempt. 

One of his scruffy sons grabbed for Mira. 

Mira arched her back and hissed, her sharp white teeth on display. A low growl emanated from both cats. 

“Don’t touch my cats,” Lissa said. They’d only get one warning. 

One of the other boys tugged Luna’s leash from Lissa’s hand. He bent down to grab the tabby. Luna exploded in a hissing rage of teeth and claws. He screamed in high-pitched agony that stabbed Lissa’s brain like a knife. Drops of crimson blood fell to the floor and he cradled his hand. 

“Fuck me,” he said. “That creature mangled me. You’ll pay for that.”

She stooped for the leash, keeping one eye on the Blackburns. It wasn’t the first time someone had been injured by the discerning sharp teeth. “You’ll want to clean that so it doesn’t get infected.” She reined in a smile. 

“Your cats are dangerous,” said Mr. Blackburn, his eyes now gleaming slits. “And your days with the group are numbered.” He gripped her arm once more. 

Lissa didn’t break eye contact. “My cats keep me fed and the apartment vermin-free. If the authorities kick me out, I’ll be fine. It’s you who will be affected the most. You’ll have to bully someone else and steal their take.”

“That’s rich. You’re a dirty thief who hunts rats,” said his oldest. 

“Let go of me,” she said, her voice tight and full of anger. “We’re headed out.”

Mr. Blackburn released her arm and barred his yellowed teeth. “We’ll see you when you get home, rat girl. Make sure you bring us our share or Bruce will take your tithe another way. We need travel supplies.” He glanced toward his oldest son. “Isn’t that right?”

The Blackburns had been talking about leaving for months. She wished they would. 

“I’ll be waiting.” Bruce puckered his lips and made moist kissy noises. 

Her stomach churned. Lissa shrugged, maintaining her outward mask of indifference. 

The youngest, still clutching his bleeding wrist, glared, his gaze filled with malice as she pushed open the door to the outside world. Shit. She’d have to watch her back. Why was she still here? 

Another fantastic start to the day. They’d have to get several rats today to pay off the Blackburns or she’d have trouble getting upstairs. Socks or food? The best hunting was near the occupied buildings—the rats were plentiful where there were people. She hadn’t been on the second floor lately. They’d welcome her presence with the cats. Errands first. 

Wind whipped the branches on the boulevard trees, tossing discarded yellow leaves into the air. Clumps of typical pale gray volcanic ash, sprinkled with tiny black cinders lay in drifts across the cracked pavement. A gust kicked up some of the fine dust, spraying it into the air like mist. She pulled down her ski goggles and rounded the corner of the building.

Lissa frowned. Large military transport trucks were parked in a row down one side of the street—dozens down this block and the next. She swallowed. Usually, there were only three. What was happening? She angled past the front of the line, headed toward the suburbs where she might scrounge new socks. They’d relaxed the guards in some of the distant neighborhoods over the summer. Should be a piece of cake to get in and out today, especially if most of the soldiers were busy here. 

Several soldiers in khaki walked past, loading crates of supplies onto the front trucks. A feeling of disquiet ran up her spine. Was the military pulling out? Everything left behind would be anarchy. 

“What’s going on,” she blurted, stopping across the street—a respectful distance from the hive of activity.

A man in uniform paused. “We’re packing everyone up tomorrow and heading east. They’ve built some new camps for the displaced.”

“Everyone? Even civilians?” She couldn’t keep the dismay from her voice. She didn’t want to journey to another refugee camp across the country. 

“Affirmative. The provisional government in DC has finally given the order for a full-scale evacuation of the West. There was an announcement yesterday. Where were you?”

She’d been out, and none of the residents of 6B mentioned it when she’d returned. “What if I want to stay? I’m waiting for my husband.” The hollow words left her heart aching. Derrick’s business trip to San Francisco had probably been his last. California had been ground zero for the largest asteroid impact. 

The soldier’s gaze took in her tight braid and the leashes on her cats. “If he’s not here by now, he’s not coming. Make sure you pack light,” his gaze flicked downward. “No pets on the trucks.”

Lissa clenched her jaw. She wasn’t leaving Mira and Luna; they weren’t just pets. She’d bought them as kittens four years ago. They were family and the only thing of value she owned, not including the wedding ring hanging around her neck on a chain. Derrick had already been missing longer than the year they’d been married. 

“Thanks for the information,” she said, revising her plan. She needed to find more portable food than what her cats could catch. And a better way to carry it than her too-small day pack. Possible plans to bribe someone to sneak her cats aboard a transport rolled through her mind. She lifted her chin. She wasn’t leaving without Mira and Luna.

Past the military trucks and away from the apartment block used to house the refugees for the last sixteen months, she created a new list. She’d need a sleeping bag, more socks, another pair of warm pants, maybe some vitamins and toothpaste. She had her cats, her knife, and her pack. What else would she need for the journey east?

She bit her lip and decided to gamble. 

Two hours later, she and her cats, having crossed the boarded-up, empty downtown, reached the deserted streets where rich people used to live in grand houses. She’d run across this swanky neighborhood a few months ago but had remained on the fringes because of the patrolling soldiers. Had anyone entered the buildings since the mass exodus? This area was far enough from the centralized refugee apartments that the houses might have supplies—the occupants having departed in the first wave of evacuation in their loaded cars. Back when there’d been fuel for anyone besides the army and the gangs. 

Her risk in coming this far seemed worth it. Today, the houses were unguarded. 

With a glance around, she tried the front doors of the first several houses. Locked. Though the soldiers were absent, she felt too exposed to pick the locks out in the open. She’d try somewhere more discreet. Mira and Luna still trotted nearby, probably eager to hunt. On the left, she opened a gate and slid around to the back. She found a rear door that had already been kicked in, and though it had been pulled closed, it no longer had a solid latch. Disappointment raced through her. She’d hoped these homes might be untouched. Still, there might be something of value left inside. 

Lissa unclipped the cats’ leashes, stowing them in her pocket. 

Though inside may have been ransacked already, she decided to investigate and shoved with her shoulder, the wood frame splintering. Inside, the air smelled damp and moldy, and fine dust covered every surface. Fighting through swaths of cobwebs, she stifled a sneeze. She made a quick inspection of the kitchen, Ecstatic to find a portable can opener, two cans of green beans, and another of peaches. Her mouth watered. 

Despite the cracked door frame, the place was a treasure trove. Maybe guards had interrupted potential looters at the back entrance.

A scurrying sound in the corner put her cats on alert and they disappeared, silently fading into the shadows.  

Upstairs, she made quick work of finding two pairs of moisture-wicking, thermal socks, one thick, one thin. and a couple of women’s size medium underwear. Good enough. She tucked them into her pocket. She found a long-sleeved shirt that looked warm and packed it too. She used to trade things like this back at the shelter, but no more. Today was about outfitting herself. She kept moving. Under a bathroom sink, she located two spare toothbrushes and a still-boxed, not-yet-expired tube of toothpaste. 

Lissa returned to the ground floor. Digging through a supply closet, she found a lighter, two boxes of wooden matches, and a bundle of candles. At the back, behind a mop, she spotted another door. A box of cleaning supplies blocked the front. Maybe someone had tried to hide the entrance.

Clearing the front, she tried to open the door. It wasn’t locked, just stuck. She tugged harder on the new door, scraping it open. Cold dank air and a musty odor rushed out. A basement? Closing the closet door, she left the new one propped open by an inch and clomped down the wooden stairs with a flickering candle.

Score. Shelves of canned goods. Maybe the owner hadn’t been home to pack when the world had gone to shit. 

Just before she grabbed a can of chili, the floor above creaked. She froze, sweat beading on her forehead. She cocked her head when another step came above her head. 

Someone was upstairs. Perhaps someone else trying their luck while the soldiers were distracted. With the dust and spiderwebs the house seemed uninhabited. Or had she been followed?

Heart racing, she doused her flame and held her breath. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she made out the faint charcoal outline of the stairs on her right, light coming only through the remaining slit from the hidden door. Heel to toe, she stepped on soft feet to the corner where the darkness was complete. Soft scratching noises reminded her she wasn’t alone down here either. High on a shelf with the canned goods, she caught a faint reddish gleam from small eyes. Probably a rat. 

She waited on pins and needles, hoping she might get a clue as to who it was. 

Lissa didn’t have long to wait. 

“The rat girl must have moved on to another house.” A familiar voice floated down from the top of the stairs, slightly muffled by the doors. Blackburn’s oldest sons must have followed her. “This one’s picked clean. What about you?” His grating voice got under her skin. She slid her knife from its sheath, her quiet breathing seeming loud. She hoped the Blackburn boys weren’t smart enough to look for hidden doors.

Something crashed upstairs, setting her heart racing again. Had they bumped the precarious mop by the basement door? 

 “All I found upstairs was some jewelry. Nothing valuable, but maybe we can use it for bribing the soldiers for better food on the trek. I’m sick of gruel and rat. I vote we go back.”

“Dad said to follow her. It’s the last chance to pick up supplies.”

“We’ve lost her. She could be anywhere. I’ll wait in the lobby and take what she finds like we always do. You can watch the back door in case she sneaks in that way.” Their voices faded as their heavy footsteps moved outside.

Hell, they didn’t know how to scrounge. She let out a breath, grateful they’d missed the basement. She ground down on her molars. Why didn’t they collect their own stuff instead of going back to wait? From this house alone, there were dozens of useful items if she had space to carry more. The full shelves down here alone…

With trembling hands, she relit her candle and turned to better examine the upright shelves at her back.

She covered her mouth, her eyes widening. Camping gear. A real backpack, a Thermarest, sleeping bags. Even a pair of dark green fuel canisters. Set up like this, she didn’t have to go back. She wouldn’t need to ride on a truck for days at risk of having her cats confiscated or abandoned. The fear of leaving them behind faded. She rotated her tight shoulders. Who needed other people? Maybe she should stay, set up in this place. Still, with the army leaving, the gangs would be a problem.

She and her cats could strike out on their own with what she’d found here. 

In the flickering candlelight, Lissa checked the labels on three sleeping bags and chose the one with the best temperature rating. No tent, but a tarp would do. She rolled a folded blue one tight, stuffing both bulky items into her new larger pack. She hefted its weight. Not too bad. She grabbed a hatchet, a hammer, and a multi-bit screwdriver from a dusty workbench. Tools weren’t light, but they’d be useful. She transferred everything from her day pack to the larger hiking backpack, stowing items in every pocket.

Was she really leaving and striking out on her own? Could she survive without anyone?

The funk of the overcrowded 6B, the Blackburns, and the No Pets rule crossed her mind, followed by the image of rows of cots separated by sheets. She was done with the refugee center. Derrick wasn’t coming back. He wouldn’t know where she was even if he did. She took a deep breath. She would eat, and then make a final decision. 

With her heart still drumming, she climbed the stairs, flinching with every sound. The Blackburn boys had sounded like they’d left. Or was that a trick to lure her into the open? At the top, she turned the handle so the door wouldn’t click. When she exited the closet, she checked both directions before slipping into the quiet kitchen. 

Lissa remained frozen, peeking through the window and listening. No voices, just crows and the wind. After what was probably an hour, it seemed she was in the clear, so she moved outside, leaving the door ajar for Mira and Luna. She whistled. The cats should be along anytime.

She peered at the perpetually gray sky. Smoke wouldn’t show much, so she built a small fire in the backyard. Building up the blaze with wood from the shed and loose sticks, she waited. Attached to the back of the house, she spotted an exterior tap. She unhooked the sun-bleached hose and twisted the faucet, crossing her fingers. Water trickled out, so she filled a pot and boiled water for her canteen. Setting it aside to cool, she added another chunk of wood, warming her hands near the flames. It was almost cold enough for gloves. 

Mira returned first, a plump rat in her jaws. She dropped it at Lissa’s feet, sat on her haunches, and licked her lips. 

Lissa stroked Mira’s furry body. “You’re such a good kitty.” She grabbed the rat and relocated to the corner of the yard where she skinned the game. Next, she slit open the belly and removed the warm entrails. Mira joined her, gobbling down the discarded guts, and then she disappeared. Hunting once more, a deadly shadow. 

Luna brought another fat rat minutes later. Then another. Then Mira returned. Each time, Lissa cleaned the rats and gave the rest to her cats, who ate everything offered, heads and tails included.  

When she had half a dozen skinned carcasses, she broke off two green branches from a bush, poked them through, and balanced the skewers over the hot coals. The scent of roasted meat made her stomach growl once more. When she judged the meat cooked, the juices no longer dripping but sizzling, she removed them and scattered the coals. When the piping hot meat cooled enough, she ate two of the roasted rats, tossing the bare bones into the ashes. She returned inside and grabbed a lidded container, which she filled with the remaining cooked meat, and then stowed it in her pack. Travel rations.

Lissa glanced at the overcast sky, the muted glow of the sun behind the ashen clouds more than halfway to the western horizon. Perhaps early afternoon. If she was going to live on her own, she wanted to truly get lost. She had everything she needed for a start. It would take at least all day tomorrow to leave the city, and then she’d look for a quiet place to spend the winter. 

Whistling for Mira and Luna, she strapped on her loaded pack, leashed the cats, and headed north to open country. She’d had enough of Denver.