But Sara was crying. "Something's wrong. I know it is!"
Jim moved toward the front door. "I'll go and find him."
Hours later, Jim entered Central Park. As the sun sank, he knew
that the enormous park wasn't as empty as it looked. Since the
Crash of 1929, tens of thousands of New Yorkers were living in
cars, or on the streets, or in the subway. A lot of people had started
living in Central Park. Some of them built huts or tents from
any materials they could find. Others slept wherever they could.
They ate any food they could find or catch or steal.
Jim had heard that there had been a lot of sheep in Central
Park. Most had been moved away. Now, as he searched for Mike,
Jim saw park workers guiding the last sheep into enormous
wagons. Jim watched until a policeman on a horse waved at him
to move away.
The shadows became longer as night came, and soon trash can
fires were the only lights in the park. Jim went deeper into the
park, past huts and tents. The sound of wet coughs filled the air.