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Authors: O. T. (Terry) Nelson

The Girl Who Owned a City

BOOK: The Girl Who Owned a City
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Copyright © 1995 by Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

The Girl Who Owned a City
is an updated edition of a title previously published by Lerner Publishing Group, Inc. The text is completely reset in 12/15 ITC Berkeley Oldstyle Std.

Carolrhoda Books

A division of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

241 First Avenue North

Minneapolis, MN 55401 U.S.A.

Website address:
www.lernerbooks.com

The images in this book are used with the permission of: Front Cover: © Arnulf Husmo/Stone/Getty Images (burning house); © Jpaget Rfphotos/Dreamstime.com (woman); © iStockphoto.com/Chad Thomas (grunge/orange background); © iStockphoto.com/Cristian Dulan (grunge background).

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Nelson, O. T.

The girl who owned a city / by O. T. Nelson

p. cm.

Summary: When a plague sweeps over the earth killing everyone except children under twelve, ten-year-old Lisa organizes a group to rebuild a new way of life.

ISBN-13: 978–0–8225–3152–4 (lib. bdg. : alk. paper)

ISBN-10: 0–8225–3152–6 (lib. bdg. : alk. paper)

ISBN-13: 978–0–8225–9670–7 (pbk. : alk. paper)

ISBN-10: 0–8225–9670–9 (pbk. : alk. paper)

[1. Survival—Fiction. 2. Science fiction.] I. Title

PZ7.N4358G1
1995

[Fic]—dc20

94-29210

Manufactured in the United States of America

16 – BP – 7/1/12

eISBN: 978-1-4677-0004-7 (pdf)

eISBN: 978-1-4677-3151-5 (ePub)

eISBN: 978-1-4677-3152-2 (mobi)

FOR LISA AND TODD

CHAPTER ONE

G

ood! The house was empty. While Lisa waited outside in the cold to be sure, she relaxed for a moment and let herself think about the past.

At this time a few weeks ago, she had been sitting quietly in her fifth-grade social studies class. There had been no reason to believe that her life would change. Now it was the middle of December. The whole world had changed, and now life seemed terrible.

What will happen to me? she wondered. Then she swung her leg with all her might. Her boot crashed through the wooden frame and glass of the front door.

The shattering sound rang in her ears as she reached through the broken pane for the latch. Her movements were quick. She was becoming a good thief.

Her eyes struggled to adjust to the strange dimness of the room. Lucky I didn't cut myself that time, she thought, inspecting her hand. But the hand was trembling, and that made her angry.

There is nothing to be afraid of here! They're dead, and gone for good. Lisa promised herself never to be afraid again, and to prove it, she screamed at the top of her voice, “I'm here,
nobody.
I'm here!”

Not even an echo replied.

The living room was filled with expensive, comfortable furniture. The big futon seemed especially inviting and made the girl realize how tired she was.

Not thinking very clearly, she searched the room for a light switch. When she finally found one, she flipped it on. Nothing.

Dummy! she thought. There isn't any electricity anymore.

The odor of spoiled food was coming from the kitchen. The garbage container was crawling with little white maggots. They seemed to be in every kitchen, like tiny ghosts that had moved in to haunt the empty houses.

The refrigerator was filled with rotten food. She started to reach for some apples that still looked good, but she stopped, guessing that they had picked up the taste of the bad food.

She went to the pantry and loaded her sack almost to the top with canned food, mostly soup. In the bathroom, she added toothpaste, Tylenol, Kleenex, and two bars of soap.

Can opener! she remembered. She hunted around in the kitchen until she found one. Her bag was full. After grabbing some candles from the dining room table, she headed for the front door.

Her actions had become almost automatic. But she was still amazed that she could do the things she had to do—things that the world just hadn't taught her. She had heard the word “looting” before and knew that it was a kind of stealing. They had looted in the Los Angeles riots just a few years ago.

But this wasn't really looting, was it? Whoever owned this house would never be back to claim it. The food and supplies would just go to waste or be taken by some other children. Besides, the things she took would save her life—and Todd's.

Lisa moved to the light of a window to look at her watch. It was getting close to four, and Todd would be worried about her. The little brother that she used to think was a pest now depended on her for everything. She didn't mind. He had become the best thing in her strange life.

After tucking the watch into her coat pocket, she started toward the door again. She noticed a small writing desk near the window and paused. How neatly the papers were arranged on it! She couldn't resist the temptation to discover something about the people who had lived in the house. When she sat down at the desk, she suddenly felt very tired. She glanced again at the futon.

If only I were Goldilocks, she thought, laughing at herself. Then I could have a bowl of warm porridge and take a nap. But there was no time for resting.

Most of the letters on the desk were about business. As nearly as she could figure out, the Mr. Williams who had lived here had been the president of a company that made tools. There was a stack of partly addressed Christmas cards and one small, sealed letter, marked Special Delivery—Urgent. She opened it.

Mr. John Williams

Chandler Military Academy

Atlanta, Georgia

Dear Son,

I have talked seriously with Dr. Chaldon and he offers no hope to your mother and me. We are both very weak and, at the most, we have only a few more days to live. Most of the neighbors are already dead and buried. It's horrible.

On the last news broadcast, they said the virus was spreading all over the world. It's the worst plague in history.

They say that for some strange reason the sickness is not fatal to children under the age of about 12 years. No adult can survive the infection. As crazy as it sounds, soon there may be no adults left in the world, anywhere. I hope that doesn't happen.

But you, son, are too close to the “unsafe” age to take any chances. Please contact my friend Dr. Coffman in Atlanta at 456 Peachtree Street. He has promised to save you some of the new vaccine that has been working for many young people your age. Don't take any chances. Please go to see him the minute you get this letter.

I would have telephoned you, but the phone company has gone out of business. They say that the postal system can only hold out for another 10 days. I hope they'll be able to get this letter through.

I'm sorry that we never got around to that camping trip to Canada. There are many other plans and dreams that will be lost.

Your mother and I would be happy to think that you will take this house when we're gone.

We love you, son. Be brave.

Dad

Lisa put the letter aside, recalling that she had received one very much like it. Her father had sent it from the DuPage County Hospital shortly before he died.

Tears were welling up in her eyes as she hurried away. She left the shattered front door wide open. John Williams, if he were still alive, wouldn't need a key.

CHAPTER TWO

H

er house on Grand Avenue was just four blocks away. Lisa raced down Lenox toward Oak. That street was so different now. By her calculations, she had walked it more than 2,000 times, to and from school, since kindergarten. But now there was no more school, and almost every house on Oak Street and on every other street looked deserted.

No cars moved. No children played. Were there children inside those houses? It was hard to tell—everyone was hiding. It was scary.

As she rounded the corner onto Grand, she thought about the children who had disliked, sometimes even hated, their parents. Most children didn't like being told what to do or how to do it. But now all the adults were gone. Lisa was 10 years old—
she
was part of the older generation. Could she tell younger kids what to do? Or what was right and what was wrong?

Her thoughts were interrupted as she passed the second house on Grand Avenue. Jill Jansen, looking hungry, tired, and a little mean, was blocking her path. “What's in the bag?” she asked. “Can I take a look?”

After rustling through the contents, Jill demanded a few cans of soup. Ever since the plague, she had been taking in homeless and hungry children. She even had a sign in front of her house saying “Children's House,” which her brother had ripped off the wall of the Montessori School.

“Jill,” said Lisa, “Todd and I need all these things. I've been out searching for days, and this is the first stuff I've found.” But Lisa was unable to resist Jill's plea. She handed over four cans of soup, some charcoal, and a book of matches.

Jill hadn't seen the can opener beneath the soup. That was lucky! They were valuable, and she would have wanted it. Most homes had electric openers, which were now useless. With all those kids around, the girl thought, why can't they go out and find their own food?

Todd was waiting at the door. “Lisa, I'm hungry!”

“I know, Todd, but look what I found for us—soup and matches. I was afraid we would run out. Hide the food in the space under the stairs, and give me the matches. I'll light the charcoal.”

Dinner was simple—soup heated over the barbecue grill and soda crackers. They had powdered milk, mixed with water from Lake Ellyn that Lisa had boiled to make safe.

BOOK: The Girl Who Owned a City
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