Often, in my bunk after a shift, I’d wrack my brain for the slightest memory of Superstorm Abel, even a single image that wasn’t borrowed from someone else’s tale. It was painful work and it got me down, so I hadn’t tried it in a while. But that night, the girl and the pack and my raging dilemma stirred it all up again.

The streets were quiet. Dawn was soon and the rain had eased. In a few more blocks, I’d run out of dry land and take to the Second Avenue walkway. Almost home, and I’m deep in my thoughts.

Suddenly, a clatter of voices offside.

“She said I was making it up?”

“Yeah. What’d you tell her?”

So loud! And I’m a scared rabbit, scooting behind a jumble of tree roots, barely enough to hide me from this pair of fools strolling along like I’d just been, paying attention to nothing but their own brain farts. Like my street coach says, any time’s a bad time to get careless. It’s a wonder any of us survive in this city.

“I told her the truth,” complains one. “After Abel wiped out my family’s squat and them with it, I was hiding out with this older dude, an’ one day, he didn’t come home.”

“Always the risk. So what happened?”

“Well, I don’t know, do I?”

They sounded so young, shambling along, one voice hoarser than the other, probably heading for the walkway. The walkways are neutral territory, so semi-safe at least and often there’s a spill of light from upper-story squatters’ digs to guide your way. But this pair were carrying lanterns, tossing a bobbing glow at their feet. Had to be brand-newbies.

“She thinks I’m not legit.”

“What, like a . . . spy or something? From some other den?”

“I guess. I told her the squat was stocked up, so I did okay . . . for a while.”

“It’s no fun on your own.”

Well, that was sure an understatement.

First-time pickers always want a buddy to work with. Sounds like a smart idea. But Rousseau says company’s distracting and I saw how right he was. These two were just blah, blah, blah. Anyone could’ve jumped them, right there at the water’s edge.

Lucky for them, no one did, and I was too beat for even a fun little scare. Well, c’mon—it’s tempting when someone’s even greener than you are. But I could hear them getting to be friends. You needed friends in a den.

“But mostly, I was running out of food and water.”

“Right,” drawled his pal, like he’d been there, too.