Albert waited patiently and smiled at the little girl with Mary. Mary noticed and said, “Oh, I’m sorry, I should introduce you. This is Isabella. Isabella, this is Albert.”
“Welcome to McDonald’s,” Albert said.
“Isabella is new. A search team just found her and brought her in.”
“My mom and dad are gone,” Isabella said.
“I know. My parents are gone, too,” Albert replied.
“I guess a Big Mac and a Biggie fries for me,” Mary said. “And a kid’s meal for Isabella.”
“Chicken nuggets or hamburger?”
“Nuggets.”
“And would you like that Big Mac with a bagel bun, an English muffin bun, or on a waffle?”
“Waffle?”
Albert shrugged. “Sorry, Mary, but there’s no fresh bread to be found anywhere. I’m using anything frozen I can get for buns. And of course there’s no lettuce, but you know that.”
“Still have special sauce?”
“I have about fifty gallons of Big Mac sauce. And as far as pickles, I’m good forever. Let me get your order started. I’d go with the bagel bun, I was you.”
“Bagel, then.”
Albert dropped a fresh basket of fries into hot oil. Then an order of nuggets in a second basket. He punched both timers. He moved with ease to the grill and slapped three patties down.
He laid out the bagel, squirted on some sauce, sprinkled onions, placed two pickle chips in the center of the bagel top.
He waited and watched Mary trying to cheer Isabella up in the dining area. The little girl was solemn and seemed on the edge of tears.
Albert flipped the burgers and settled the burger press in place to speed cooking.
The fry timer went off. He lifted the basket, shook it to throw off extra oil, and tossed the fries into the bin. A quick pass with the salt shaker. Then up came the nuggets.
Albert enjoyed the balletic moves he had practiced and perfected over the last—how many days had it been? Eight? Nine? Nine days running the McDonald’s.
“Cool,” Albert said with quiet satisfaction.
Since the incident everyone now referred to as “Albert’s Cat,” Albert had stayed in, or at least close to, the McDonald’s. There were no supernatural, teleporting cats in the McDonald’s.
He assembled the order onto two trays and carried them out to the only occupied table.
“Thanks,” Mary said gratefully.
“We ran out of our regular promo,” Albert said. “But I got some toys, you know, little stuff from Ralph’s or whatever. So there is a toy in the Happy Meal. Just not the regular one.”
Isabella pulled a tiny plastic doll with bright pink hair from her bag. She did not smile. But she did hold on to the doll.
“So, how long can you keep this place open?” Mary asked.
“Well, I have lots of burger patties. The day of the FAYZ there was a delivery truck coming through. You must have seen it plowed into that old house up behind the muffler place, right? Anyway, when I got there the engine was still running, so the cooling unit was still on. I have my walk-in packed. Plus I have burgers stashed in freezers all over town.” He nodded in satisfaction. “I have sixteen thousand, two hundred and eighty patties—including Quarter Pounders. I’m selling about two hundred and fifty a day. So I’m good for about two months, give or take. Fries will run out sooner.”
“Then what?”
Albert hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should get into it, but then, glad to have someone to share his worries with, he said, “Look, we can’t live forever on the food we have. I mean, okay, we have all the food here, all the food at the grocery store, and a bunch of food in all the different houses, right?”
“That’s a lot of food. Sit with us, Albert.”
He was uncomfortable doing so. “It says in the manual we don’t sit down with customers. But I guess I could take a break and sit at this next table.”
Mary smiled. “You’re into this.”
Albert nodded. “When the FAYZ comes down I want the district manager to come here and say, ‘Wow, good job, Albert.’”
“It’s more than a good job. You make people think maybe there’s some hope, you know?”
“Thanks, Mary, that’s cool of you to say that.” He thought it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him and it gave him a nice glow. Lots of kids just came in and complained that he didn’t have exactly what they wanted.
“But you’re worried about what happens next?” Mary prompted.
“There’s a lot of food now. But already there are shortages. You almost can’t find a candy bar or chips anymore. Sodas will run out before too much longer. And eventually we’ll be out of everything.”
“How long is eventually?”
“I don’t know. But pretty soon people will be fighting over food. We’re using food up. We’re not growing more food or making or creating new things.”
Mary had taken two bites of the Big Mac. “Does Caine know this?”
“I’ve told him. But he’s got his mind on other things.”
“This is kind of a major problem,” Mary said.
Albert didn’t want to talk about sad things, not while someone was enjoying his food. But Mary was the one asking, and as far as Albert was concerned, Mary was a saint just like the ones in the church. He shrugged and said, “I’m just trying to do my thing here.”