Erik heard voices in the alley.

He clutched his backpack and dove into the overgrown shrubs lining the alley. He waited, listening to the echoes of his own rapid breathing. The sun was low in the sky and, from his vantage point, he saw reflected light across the alley, behind a tipped over dumpster. Sunlight glinted off what looked to be an unbroken basement window. He licked his lips nervously. Had really no one noticed it? If the building had been untouched he could find all manner of things inside: food, clothing, maybe even a weapon. It was worth the risk.

When the voices faded he stole across the alleyway and, with a grunt, shoved the half-filled dumpster six feet to one side. The window was locked and wouldn't budge. He picked up a chunk of concrete and tapped it hard against the glass hoping it would break neatly, but it held. With a furtive glance he heaved the rock through the window, then scampered back to his hiding spot and counted to five hundred, ready to bolt at any commotion. He counted back down to zero but heard nothing but the far-off barking of dogs. Satisfied no one was coming--at least not immediately--he kicked out the remaining glass and slid through the window, hoping he wouldn't tear himself up on any shards he'd missed.

He found himself in a storage room lined with metal shelves that, sadly, looked to be long been picked over. The late afternoon sun streaming in the window behind him provided the only meager light in the room. He unfolded his reader and used the device's dim backlight in his hurried search. If anyone came through the alley he would be trapped, and who knew who or what was behind the storage room door?

Just as that thought crossed his mind, a box in the corner slid from the shelf and fell with a crash. Erik whirled and thrust the reader before him, as if it would protect him. "Who's there?" he whispered, trying to sound menacing. He inched backwards toward the window. If they had a gun he was finished; if they had a knife, and he had a fighting chance. His foot brushed the concrete chunk he'd used to smash in the window and he picked it up. "Who's there?" he repeated, drawing back his arm.

He heard a squeak and thought it might be an animal, but then a frightened whisper reached him. "No one." A child?

"Come out where I can see you," Erik said. He advanced. He wouldn't harm anyone unless he absolutely had to, but the person hiding didn't need to know that.

"Don't shoot," a girl's voice said.

"Come out."

She stepped forward from the corner slowly, her hands to her sides. Erik beckoned her to stand in the sunbeam and thought due to her slight figure that she was young, in her early teens. The girl stepped into the light, her hands trembling, her face streaked with tears. She looked unhealthily thin and very pale, and he realized that she was older than he thought, perhaps only a few years younger than him. He relaxed his stance but held his arm cocked.

"Please keep your voice down. I think someone else is inside the building," she said.

Erik tensed. "Who are you?"

She wiped her nose. "Nobody," she said. Then she gave him a curious smile and a shrug. "Well, I guess I'm somebody. My name is Emilee."

"How'd you get in here?"

"I climbed a downspout and crawled through a vent," she whispered and smiled. "I searched the second floor and part of the first. I didn't find much of anything, but then I heard a man's voice. I didn't have anywhere to go but down here. I just about died when that rock came flying through the window."

Erik pocketed concrete chunk. No food, no goods, no point in staying. "I should go."

"Thanks for not bashing me with that rock," she said with a soft laugh. Erik paused as she raised a small burlap satchel. "I found a couple cans of food upstairs. Would you like some pasta?" All traces of humor left her face. "I could trade it for some rundown, if you have some. I mean, really need it."

He shifted his pack on his back away from her, a dead giveaway. She chewed her bottom lip. Please? her eyes asked.

They heard faint voices from the other side of the door, arguing. Erik felt a thrill of fear shudder through him, and he locked eyes with Emilee. Seconds later they had escaped out of the window and into the bushes across from the building, nursing a few minor cuts and scrapes. They heard a door creak open in the basement and they pushed through the bushes to the other side of the alley and slinked away.

When they had put two blocks between them and the storage room, Erik quickly unshouldered his pack and zipped open a side pocket. What would be a fair exchange for the cans of food? Four pills? Five? How long would that last her? He felt her moist hand on top of his and he jerked the bag away.

"No, you don't understand," Emilee said with a small, sincere smile. She shook her head and gazed at the lengthening shadows in the alley. "I don't know you... I don't know your name or where you're going, but you seem like a nice guy. Would you mind if I came with you? Two are safer than one."

He cupped his hand over the open pocket, shielding her view from the phials of jack inside. He looked down the sidestreet, eager to put more distance between them and the broken window. He looked the girl up and down. She bit her lower lip again, her eyes now playful. "I'm good at finding stuff."

He zipped the bag shut and extended his hand for her to shake. "My name is Erik."