Free The Canyon: A Short Story (Voices of the Apocalypse Series Book 1) by Simone Pond Page B

chest, tears filling her eyes. There’s no way I could separate my girl and her dog. Not when Rags has been Lillian’s greatest comfort throughout everything.  
    “Okay, but put her in a backpack. I don’t want her sniffing around and running off. You know the deal, if we get caught––run. You remember our meeting place, right?”  
    “Yeah, the Emmett’s pool. Deep end. Under the pile of branches.”
    “If something happens, you run without looking back.”
    “But you’ll come too, won’t you?” she asks.
    “I’ll be behind you. I’m not letting these assholes win.”
    Lillian’s laughter is the most joyful noise I’ve heard in a long time. We hug each other and laugh some more, with little Rags getting squished between us, licking our faces.  

    ###
    Once it’s dark, we cut through the backyard and climb the wooden fence at the end of the property, landing in our neighbor’s yard. The house is empty, like all the other houses in our Santa Monica neighborhood. We already know there’s nothing left as far as food goes, but we use their yard to cut across to an adjacent block. I’m a bit nervous entering new territory. I look back at Lillian, who gives me the thumbs up. Over her shoulder, Rags’ furry face pokes up from the backpack. The moment is so noteworthy that, out of habit, I reach for my phone to take a picture, but then I remember it’s long gone. I decide to mentally capture the moment. It’s more authentic this way. Something I’ll cherish––regardless of the dreadful circumstances––until my dying day.  
    We jog alongside the house and dart across the street. There’s a seafoam green Prius parked in the driveway. I’m thinking the hybrid vehicles are our best bet for finding any gas residuals. Using my camping knife, I pry open the square panel to get to the gas cap, then I hook up the siphoning pump and aim the other end of the tube into the empty can. It only takes a few pumps to get the flow going. When the first can is full, I plunk the tube into the other can and wait for it to fill up. Two full gallons of gas will be enough to get us to the surplus store and then to the Palisades for our trek into Temescal Canyon. I hide the gas cans in the bushes to pick up on our way back home. We still need to keep searching for food to get through the next 24 − 48 hours. Lillian and I sneak to the back of the house and try the door, which is unlocked. Others have already been here and I’m sure they’ve pilfered everything.
    “Empty,” Lillian says, shutting the door to the pantry.
    “Chances are if this one is empty, the neighboring houses will be too. I think we should climb the fence and go to the next block.”
    “Agreed,” she says bravely. Bless her heart, my dear courageous girl.
    At the back of the yard, there’s a stone wall that stretches out across many properties. It’s tall and will require some maneuvering. There aren’t any trees around, so we can’t toss up a rope to scale it. I look around for something we can use to hoist ourselves over. The only thing I find is a rusty bicycle.
    “Are you planning on riding that over the wall?” Lillian smiles.  
    “We’ll use it as leverage. Gotta make do with what we have.”  
    “Seems kinda dangerous.”  
    “You go first; I’ll make sure it’s steady.”  
    I hold the handles still as Lillian steps onto one of the pedals and climbs up to balance her feet on the seat. She’s wobbling, but she’s able to reach the top of the wall and pull herself up. I wait until I hear her safely land on the other side. Without anyone to hold the bike, it won’t be as easy for me. I make a running leap, aiming to get at least one foot on the seat to heave myself up. It’s not a graceful attempt. My chin hits the ledge just as the bike slips out from under my feet, but I’m able to hold on and drag my body up the wall. I roll over and thump down on the other side.  
    “You’re bleeding.” Lillian points to my