I wanted to go there. I wanted to see those van Goghs now that everything else had turned into a motherfucking train wreck. I convinced José and Sebastian that we should go and stay for a little while. That it would be an adventure, that it would be something we could never do again in our lives if we didn’t do it now. After that we’d go to this building that everybody was talking about in Brooklyn.

Macombs Dam Bridge hadn’t been destroyed, so we walked it, and then down through Harlem. It was a long walk, and we were carrying bookbags with a metric fuck-ton of water and food, some clothes, and whatever pills I’d been able to salvage. It had been hard figuring out what to take and what to leave behind. That’s materialism for you: even in those shitty conditions I still wanted to keep all the stuff we had hoarded. I’d taken my bolt cutters and crowbar and lock pick kit like I do everywhere, but a lot of stuff we just left. I had this half-hope that someone else would find it, find the place we’d called home and use it, make it their own. I hoped it would be some family or something, or a kid who had nowhere like we’d had nowhere. The thought of the place empty made me feel so alone, like places could have feelings and this one would be aware of its abandonment. I tried not to think about it. Shitty goddamn feelings only slow you down when you need to be sharp and on your game. I didn’t have time for that stuff, not now.

We didn’t talk a lot along the walk. Sebastian was kind of huffing and puffing, still weak from being sick for so long. But at one point, he touched my arm and I stopped.

“What do you think happened to all the animals in the Bronx Zoo?” he asked.

The street all around me was ruined—overturned cars, downed stoplight, buildings with their doors open like a mouth of a dead person. All around us was destruction. José had gone ahead, his superior athleticism putting distance between us. I thought of the dog back in the pharmacy, and how I had killed it without thinking twice. But that had been different. That had been an attack. And I don’t really care about animals, I’ve always thought all the punk vegans are pretty silly with how much they do, but there was something about those animals in those cages that made me pause.

“Maybe someone got those fuckers out before,” I said. “And took them somewhere safe.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Or maybe they died in their cages. Maybe they drowned and maybe they’re still there rotting.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, Sebastian. What the fuck do I know?”