《What Comes After》


 Chapter 1

    May 11


    Sometimes, I just want to dive into the deep blues of the ocean and disappear. Today''s one of those days. I got my math test back, and it wasn''t good. I''ll have to do much better on the finals than I did last time, which is unfortunate. I''m not sure how I''m going to explain this to my parents, so, hopefully, they won''t check my grades.


    Mira face-timed me today, probably to avoid talking to Mom and Dad. Last time they talked, it ended with some argument about making responsible life choices. She had dyed her hair blue. I''m pretty sure that''s what their whole fight was about.


    "Hey little brother," she said.


    Her hair was red this time. I''m not sure why anyone would change their hair color only after a month or so, but I''ve never dyed my hair, so I probably wouldn''t understand.


    "How''s college?" I asked, placing the phone against a stack of textbooks on my desk as I attempted to multi-task and get some math homework done.


    "Oh, the usual. Boring classes and terrible professors," she replied. "How''s high school going? Have you done anything fun since the last time I called?"


    I shrugged. "High school is alright. I guess. There''s nothing much going on. The most fun I''ve had in the past few weeks was finishing the last book in the series I''ve been working on for a year."


    "Books? C''mon is there anything actually interesting that you''ve been doing?"


    "If you mean getting drunk at some high school party or getting high in some dark alley, no thank you."


    She laughed. "I mean something that doesn''t involve breaking the law. Like actually going outside and having real fun with your friends. Not sitting inside all cooped up. Do you even have a girlfriend?"


    "No!"


    "Boyfriend?" she implored. "I wouldn''t mind."


    "If you don''t stop talking, I''m hanging up the phone," I said, only somewhat seriously.


    "Fine, fine. Geez, you can be so uptight sometimes, you know," she said with a bit of a laugh. "So how''s May doing?"


    "She''s doing fine," I said. "Mom and Dad are proud that she''s made the softball varsity team in her freshman year."


    "Oh," she said. "That''s pretty cool. I didn''t know. Is the team doing well?"


    "They''ve only won one game," I said. "They lost the rest, but May doesn''t really care. Our team has been the second worst in the district for the past decade, so everyone''s just playing to boost their extracurriculars for when they apply to colleges."


    There was a pause. "Have you tried calling May?" I asked.


    "I mean I''ve tried," she said, looking down for a bit. "But she just keeps hanging up. It''s probably because she''s busy all the time with softball and stuff."


    But both Mira and I knew that wasn''t true. Mira and May never talk to each other even though they''d get along perfectly. Both are popular and outgoing and are social butterflies, unlike me. But for some reason, May still thinks that Mira is our "druggie older sister," even though that''s completely false, so you can see why they don''t have the strongest of sisterly bonds. And I guess this is where I come in, Mira''s key to check in with our family.


    We talked a bit more after that, but just as she was going to hang up, she broke the biggest news of today. "I''m coming home to watch the asteroid crash into the moon."


    "Are you sure?" I asked. "I don''t think that''s going to end well."


    I know that Dad is into astronomy, so it might be a good time to have them bond over watching this spectacular event. But at the same time, I''m worried that they''re just going to continue to argue all day long for her whole trip.


    "Trust me," Mira said.


    "Okay," I replied. "I have to hang up. I''ve got to study for my math finals."


    I didn''t really hang up because I needed to study for math finals. Talking to other people is exhausting. But that''s a good reminder that I should try to crack open my math book to get started. I wish it was summer already.


    May 13


    It seems like everyone is making a big deal about the asteroid hitting the moon. I''ve got to write a literature essay about the symbolism of the moon in a series of short stories that we''ve read. There''s a chemistry project about the composition of the moon''s surface, and in history, we''re learning about the space race. It seems like the only class that isn''t doing anything moon related is math, but that could change quickly.


    May is at a softball game with Mom and Dad right now. I told them I couldn''t come because I had a lot of homework, but really, I wanted some time to myself. They''re pressuring me to join some of the school clubs. "It''s good for college apps," they would say monotonously, like robots on repeat.


    I told them that it was the end of the year, and all the clubs are closing down or have shut down. I''m not sure what I''m going to do next year though. I know that I have to be involved with school, but I just can''t. I don''t know why, but I just can''t.


    I went over to Charles'' house to study math this afternoon. We''re both in the same honors course, but we''ve got different teachers. I need to ace the upcoming quiz this Tuesday to give me a cushion in case I do badly on the finals.


    But instead, we talked about random things and complained about our teachers and then we talked about summer dreamily, hoping that it''ll come soon.


    "I''m getting a summer job," he announced.


    I put down my pencil. That math problem was giving me a headache. "What type of summer job?"


    "I don''t know. I''ll figure it out," he said. "Maybe become one of those summer camp counselors in those movies we used to watch in elementary school."


    "You''d make a terrible counselor, you know."


    "Better than you."


    "True," I said. "Plus, I wouldn''t want to spend all day talking to little kids. It''s one of my worst nightmares."


    He laughed. I''m not exactly sure how we became friends. I''m terrible around other people, and he''s somewhat of an extrovert, but here we are. "You doing anything over summer?"


    I shrugged. "Maybe? I don''t know."


    "You should try to find something, like an internship or¡ª"


    "Do you understand these integrals?" I blurted out.


    "Yeah," he said and gave me a weird look. "Those are pretty easy. Weren''t you working on harder ones than these?"


    "Maybe," I said and pointed at the math book. "But I don''t understand these."


    "Okay," he said with a note of skepticism. "Here''s how you do it."


    I already knew how to do those problems, but I had to make him stop talking seriously about summer and jobs and internships and whatever else that he was going to say. I don''t know why, but it''s just hard for me when I''m thinking about the future. Everything feels just so overwhelming, like you''re making a choice right this second when you''re only fifteen percent of the way through your life that will affect the other eighty-five percent of your life. It makes me feel sick.


    After a productive hour of work, his mom asked if I was going to stay for dinner, but I declined. May needed some help with her own homework, and I had the household duty of being her tutor. It was going to be a painful night. She had a biology quiz about the digestive and circulatory system tomorrow, and I don''t think she knew anything.


    "What does the liver do?" I asked for the hundredth time.


    "Isn''t it the one that stores the blood?" she said.


    I sighed. "I give up."


    "No giving up," Mom shouted from her desk as she stared at her computer.


    "The spleen stores the blood," I said. "The liver is the one that produces..."


    "Bile?" she said.


    "Thank goodness," I replied. "That''s your first right answer."


    "Third," she said. "I got the functions of the stomach and esophagus right. Maybe you need to go back to algebra since you can''t even count."


    "Goodbye," I said. "Good luck on your bio test."


    "Fine, fine," she replied. "I only got one right. Happy now?"


    "Very," I said. "Let''s keep reviewing."


    We reviewed the questions for about an hour or so. She kept getting the functions of the liver, pancreas, and small intestine mixed up. Hopefully, her brain starts working tomorrow and she actually gets them right because right now, that "A" Mom and Dad are looking for is not to happen.


    I''m counting down the days until summer. Every single day the sun seems to rise earlier and earlier and set later and later. Hopefully it comes soon. School is driving me crazy!


    May 16


    Today was the school''s annual trip to the beach and it was fun, I guess. Our school is too stingy to spend money taking us to the beaches down in Southern California, so we''re stuck with our local beach. To be fair, it wasn''t that bad.


    We walked down the cracked road to the beach. It was gusty today, so I wore a heavier jacket, but in hindsight, I should have brought heavier pants too. I spent most of the beach day talking to Charles.


    "Have you chosen what you''re going to do after high school?" he asked.


    It was one of the things that he can''t stop talking about lately. Well, that and future colleges.


    "No," I said.


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    "Well, you should start deciding soon. Junior year is only a summer away and about two years from now, you''ll be getting ready to graduate from high school."


    "I know."


    "Then you also know that it''s important to choose something you''re interested in soon."


    "Can we talk about something else?" I asked.


    We talked about other stuff after: video games, amateur philosophy, the latest politics, but everything felt different. I sat in the sun, basking in its golden rays, and shuffled the sand with my toes. I knew he was right, of course. But I can''t force myself to make a commitment that''ll affect my whole life right now, especially when I''m only in high school. And with everyone talking about it all the time, I just couldn''t stand listening to any more lectures about a future that seems so far away.


    Charles is literally perfect. He''s much more future oriented. He''s got his job and his colleges chosen already, along with being prepped for the SAT and ACT. What have I got? Nothing, absolutely nothing.


    We stopped talking after a while and just stared out into the ocean. Everything that we talk about except colleges and jobs feels empty now. I feel like our friendship is drifting apart piece by piece.


    May 17


    Today was a crappy day. I think I failed my math quiz. I had a hard time understanding derivatives and integrals. I knew I shouldn''t have taken an honors course for math and just gone with a physics honors course even though I have zero interest in it. Right now, I''m praying for a decent score on it. Hopefully, it''s an A, but I doubt it.


    Mom started bothering me about driving again. She says I have to drive for at least three hours this weekend, and I told her that driving wasn''t good for the climate. She didn''t buy the environmental argument, so I said that I had to prep for finals over the weekend. Now, she says that we''ll be catching up on all the hours I''m missing in the summer. Mom is more excited about my driver''s license than I am, probably so she can slave me away to take May to softball practice. Summer seems a lot less exciting now.


    Only one good thing happened today, and even it ended disastrously.


    Mira came home, and she and dad immediately began fighting over the stupidest little things.


    "Hey guys! I''m home," Mira said when Mom opened the door.


    It was just before sunset, around seven at night. "Mira?" Mom said. "What are you doing here? Shouldn''t you be at college studying for your final exams?"


    "Our college gave us a week off to spend with our families to watch the Mooncrash," she said. "So I decided to come back home."


    Then Dad came down to investigate all the drama at the door and everything went downhill from there. "Why aren''t you studying for your final exams?" he asked.


    "Dad, I know you love astronomy, so I came here to watch the Mooncrash with you," she said cheerfully, despite the frosty atmosphere.


    "Well, you should''ve told us, so we could''ve prepared things for you," Dad said stiffly. "Where do you plan to sleep?"


    "I''ll just take the guest bedroom," she said.


    "Hey!" May yelled. "That''s my room."


    "Neal, you never told me that May moved into my room," Mira said to me. "I thought you two were still sharing the room."


    Everyone looked at me for a moment before a heated argument broke out.


    "You''ve been talking to Neal and not to us!" Dad shouted.


    After that, I retreated to my room and propped open my binder to write my literature essay. It wasn''t due until Friday, but I was trying to get out of the habit of procrastinating. I didn''t hear very much of the argument downstairs. I turned up the speaker of my tablet to drown out the voices.


    I still heard little scraps of arguments, along with a couple of swear words being thrown around. "You''re always so controlling... make better choices... that''s why I can''t talk with you... going behind my back... betrayal of trust... why can''t you accept... we''re not having this conversation now."


    May got to keep her room. Mira is sleeping on the couch. Mom is yelling at Dad to not have such a temper and that it''s their daughter, not some stranger. I feel like my head is going to explode from all this shouting. I hope that the world does end, so I don''t have to deal with school and all this fighting.


    May 18


    Today started as an average day. Everyone at school was talking about the asteroid and the moon. There were rumors that there was going to be a party at Tommy''s beach house today to celebrate the Mooncrash, and that there will be no parents and lots of alcohol.


    In math class, if we took a picture of the moon as the asteroid hit it with our phones, we''d get some extra credit to boost our test grades. Turns out that my math teacher is secretly fascinated with astronomy. I think his passion might save my grade.


    It was a bit windy today. The palm fronds lining the beachside boardwalk were rustling as Charles and I walked home today. Most of our homework was due Friday or had to be turned in today, so it was a relatively homework-free afternoon for both of us. We decided to take a detour and follow the beach path home.


    "Are you excited to watch the Mooncrash tonight?" I asked.


    "Not really," Charles replied. "I mean there''s nothing special about it. The moon has thousands of craters on it. One more crater won''t make much of a difference. And I''ve got to prepare for SATs too, so there''s no time to watch it."


    "C''mon," I said. "You''re going to miss one of the biggest astronomy events of your lifetime."


    "I''m still not buying it."


    I sighed. "When we''re old and shrunken and wrinkled and half blind, you''re going to look back at this and regret that you didn''t choose to spend a couple of minutes of your life to watch this spectacular event."


    "Fine, fine," he said. "I''ll watch it. Stop with your guilt tripping."


    "So it worked?"


    "Don''t push your luck," he said, and we continued on in silence.


    "Do you miss it?" he asked suddenly, and I looked at him weirdly.


    "Miss what?"


    "The summers when we were younger."


    "Of course."


    "I miss it too."


    I was surprised. Charles always seemed so focused about the future. I figured he didn''t really think about the past.


    "I miss the sun-soaked days on the beach, building sandcastles and having fun. It seems like there''s no time for anything anymore," he said.


    We made it to his house and waved goodbye. I made him promise me that he was going to watch the Mooncrash tonight, and then I left for my house. I braced for shouts and yells from inside the house, but I was pleasantly surprised with silence.


    Mira and Dad seemed to have made a temporary truce today. Dad even brought out an old telescope from the garage to show Mira how to view the moon properly. Even Grandma and Grandpa, who normally hang out in their retirement center, came to watch it. They cooked dumplings and noodles for our family, and soon the house was filled with delicious smells of Taiwanese food.


    I turned on the TV to watch CNN. They had a panel of scientists out with all kinds of charts and graphics plotting out the trajectory of the asteroid as it neared the moon. Apparently, there have been similar events in the recent past, including a small meteor that disintegrated before it hit the moon in 2006, but there has never been anything of this scale in modern history.


    They had a whole countdown going on in the background as they cut to clips of how people were preparing to watch the Mooncrash. In New York City, where there was great visibility, thousands of people crowded around Ellis Harbor, some waving signs while others just clinked bottles.


    The most striking thing was a group of people huddled together. Some kind of apocalyptic cult. They believed that this event was going to be the end of the world, so they sat in a circle and prayed for salvation or something like that. They seemed very convinced of their beliefs and very delusional.


    When there was ten minutes left, I sent Charles a text, reminding him that he better watch the Mooncrash. He sent a thumbs up back. May and I opened the freezer and took out a couple of ice-cream bars for everyone to share, and Mom and Dad brought out some old lawn chairs from the garage and placed them in our front yard.


    Mr. Hunter invited a whole bunch of his friends over and had a grill out to cook some pork chops and burgers, while Mrs. Gupta had set up one of those inflatable pools and filled it with water for the younger kids in our neighborhood to play in. The whole neighborhood was glowing with excitement as everyone set out deck chairs and telescopes in their yards to catch a glimpse of the asteroid hitting the moon. It seemed like everyone in the neighborhood was taking the evening off to watch this event.


    Even though it wasn''t dark, I could see the lights from the massive bonfires on the beach and the loud shouts of high schoolers that were already drunk. It seemed like everyone in my grade at school was over there except me. I didn''t mind though. Drinking illegally wasn''t my type of fun.


    As the timer ticked down, the energy in our neighborhood seemed to kick up a notch as people frantically began adjusting telescopes and grabbing binoculars from dusty shelves. The sun set at around 8:20, but it was still bright enough that the moon was a pale reflection of itself, bathed in crimson and pink.


    As the timer hit one minute, at 8:29, the whole neighborhood went silent. Dad was craning his neck to get a better look at the night sky through his telescope while Mom stopped chatting with Grandma and Grandpa in Taiwanese. Mira, May, and I fought over the binoculars. Mira won because she had older sister privilege, so May and I had to watch the sky bare. I had my phone out to snap a photograph for math class.


    And then you could see it, a bright, white flare in the sky, shooting to the moon. There were echoes of cheering from the beach, but our neighborhood was silent except for a dog barking. Our neighbors, the Hunters, had their hands clasped together. I wonder if they were praying to God or wishing upon the massive shooting star in the sky. I guess I''ll never find out.


    The asteroid smacked into the moon. You could almost imagine the roars as rock slammed into rock. People started cheering and clapping like it was the end of a show. Only it wasn''t. The half-moon in the sky began to tilt, penny sized moon becoming nickel sized and then quarter sized and then half dollar sized and then much bigger until it filled the whole sky. A massive silver rock smack dab in the middle of the sky.


    "What the hell!" someone yelled, and half the people in my neighborhood began to scream.


    "We''re all going to die!" another person shouted. "The moon is going to crash into the Earth!"


    But it didn''t. It just lay there in the middle of the sky, crowding out all the stars, affirming its dominance of the darkness at night.


    "I''m going to check the TV," I said, and Mom and Dad just numbly nodded.


    I went inside, but when I tried turning on CNN, it didn''t work, nor did NBC or other major broadcasting centers. I even tried Fox News. Dad would rather die than watch even a second of it. Our internet was down, and I couldn''t get a good cellular connection. Some people were shouting outside that they couldn''t access their cellphones.


    Grandma and Grandpa brought in the lawn chairs, oblivious to what had just happened and began to pack up the leftovers to bring to their senior center. Eventually Mom and Dad came in along with May and Mira.


    "Do you think something happened?" I asked.


    "I don''t know," Mom said. "Did you check the TV?"


    "Yeah, it wasn''t working," I said.


    Mom went over to the TV and clicked a few buttons, but nothing showed up. I wanted to walk to Charles'' house to see if he knew what had happened, but I decided against it. It was probably too dangerous to do so.


    Dad told us that we needed to go to bed for school, but I didn''t feel well. Then, I remembered that we had some hand-cranked radio in one of our drawers for rainy days when the power would go out. I grabbed the old thing and gave it a few cranks, fiddling with the knob until I reached a news station.


    "I got it!" I yelled, and everyone in our family crowded around the dining table. There was a lot of static, but you could hear a faint news announcer''s voice.


    "The scientists at NASA say that the meteor was much denser than they anticipated and may have altered the trajectory of the moon, pulling it closer to the Earth. Wait. We''re getting unconfirmed reports of massive flooding around New York City and Boston. The scientists are now warning that the gravitational influence of the moon is much stronger now, leading to an increase in tidal strength and distance since the moon controls the tides."


    "The beach..." I said. "There was a party at the beach."


    "Oh my god," Dad said and turned another shade of pale. He ran outside and began yelling about the beach party. There were panicked shouts outside, people yelling about their kids and how they''re at the beach. A couple of people grabbed flashlights and some people tried to organize a rescue team. I''m not sure if they were successful since it sounded like chaos outside.


    The radio signal was coming and going, so I tried the TV again. No luck. The radio began blaring loudly, drawing all of us back to the table. May was sitting in her chair in shock with Mira while Mom tried making 911 calls for the beach, but all the lines were down. Grandma and Grandpa were confused, but I think they understood what was going on.


    "This is the governor of California. Under the advisory of the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration, I am sending out an emergency broadcast for all coastal counties."


    He then listed out all those counties, including ours and others that have major cities like San Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego.


    "All those living under 30 feet above sea level must evacuate immediately. I repeat. All those living under 30 feet above sea level must evacuate immediately. There will be tidal surges of 20 feet in most areas and individual areas can reach up to 30 feet of tidal surge. All residents living in at-risk areas must evacuate immediately to higher ground."


    "How high above sea level are we?" Mira asked.


    "Eighty feet," I said. "I remember learning this in middle school."


    The governor continued, "If you are unable to evacuate, move to higher ground in your area of residence like rooftops and wait until help arrives. The National Guard has been deployed and will be conducting rescues. Make sure to stay calm and may God bless America."


    Mom took her phone and tried calling her sister in Taiwan, but there still wasn''t a good cellular connection. I don''t think they live close to the ocean, but with the massive tidal surges expected, who knows. Then she went into her room.


    May was just silent the whole time, and then spoke up and said that she wasn''t feeling well, so she went to bed. I think some of her friends were at the beach party. I told Grandma and Grandpa that they could stay here tonight. May moved back to my room while they moved into the guest bedroom. I clicked on the TV and got some reception. The news announcement was grim.


    "The damage has been devastating to the East Coast of the United States with estimated casualties in the tens of thousands. New York City and Boston are completely flooded as the national guard struggles to rescue the many in need. But the situation is much more dire in the Southeast. Major cities, including Mobile, New Orleans, Corpus Christi, Miami, Jacksonville, Tampa, Savannah, Charleston, and Chesapeake are all completely submerged as the governors in 22 states declare states of emergencies."


    I turned down the volume of the TV. "Do you think everything''s going to be alright?" I asked Mira.


    "I don''t know," was all she said.

 Chapter 2, Part 1

    May 19


    I woke up at five because I couldn''t sleep. The damage was worse than everyone thought. By the time the tides had retreated, millions of people were missing with casualty estimates rising up to the hundreds of thousands. I felt like I should''ve been more sad or shocked or just felt something about this, but I just couldn''t. It''s like I still can''t believe that this has happened to us.


    Mom managed to get a call with her family back in Taiwan. They''re a bit shaken, but they''re all right. They lived high enough above sea level to avoid the worst of the tides, but who knows how bad it''s going to get? Dad came back in the middle of the night pretty shaken up from what I''ve heard from Mira. I don''t think they found anyone alive. He also tried calling his parents. I think he''s worried. They live in Mumbai, which is right next to the sea. I hope they''re alright.


    No one knew what was happening with school. The power kept going on and off, and there was no new information from the school. "Do you think we''re going to school?" May asked.


    "Maybe," I said. "I don''t know."


    "We''re going to school," Mira said and entered the dining room. "I''ll drop you two off at your high school."


    "Is school even open?" I asked. "It might be closed because they''ll be using it for holding all the injured people from yesterday."


    "Maybe," Mira said. "I don''t know. I think we should go anyway, just to see if they have any additional information. The internet is down right now, and the radio is mostly focused on the national news, so it''ll be better just to see what the situation is like. It''s what Mom and Dad would want."


    "What are they doing anyways?" May asked.


    "They''re sleeping," Mira said. "Dad came back late at night from the beach. He wouldn''t talk to me about it, but it''s bad."


    May looked a bit shocked, and I pushed the cereal around in my bowl. There was this stifling, awkward silence that blanketed the room. Mira looked down at May. "Are you okay? Did¡ª Did you know¡ª"


    "I''m fine," May blurted out. "I''m fine. Let''s hurry up and go to school. I don''t want to ruin my attendance record."


    Mira looked at her strangely and opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but then kept it to herself.


    Mira drove me and May to school. We didn''t talk much. The radio kept droning on and on about the tides and the Moon and the deaths. She turned off the radio and when we reached a curb, took the long way around to school to avoid the houses close to the beach, but I could already imagine the destruction.


    School wasn''t any better. The principal was out there directing the students to get off at an alternate drop-off lane since the main one was occupied by ambulances, sirens blaring as people in gurneys were carted off into the main gym, now transformed into a makeshift hospital with white tarps and rows of emergency workers clad in scrubs. He also said that school was still open, which made sense because it was on dry ground and was something normal and stable, so Mira drove around and dropped us off somewhere a little less grim even though the sirens still echoed throughout the air.


    In my classes, there were pockets of students that were missing. I wasn''t sure if they decided to skip school today or if they got, you know, swept away in the tides. There were students in the corner crying, some were just sleeping, burying their heads in their arms. Most of us were just staring at the whiteboard, still in shock of everything that happened, as if it wasn''t real. I stared out of the window, watching the flashes of the police cars and ambulances reflect across the glass of the building next to the emergency lane. We all just thought that whatever happened just couldn''t have happened.


    One of our guidance counselors came in and told us that her offices and all the offices of the guidance counselors were open if we needed to talk, and our teacher cancelled all our upcoming assignments. She tried talking about the event, I could see it in her eyes, but no words came out. She sat in the corner of the classroom, crying quietly, and I felt bad that no one was comforting her, but sometimes, it was better to leave people alone. When the bell rang, we all shuffled out and headed towards our next classes, trying to pretend that it was a normal day.


    But from the quietness of the passing period, it seemed that we had failed that test, and I heard that apparently some of our teachers were gone too. Everyone seemed to be speaking about the event in low whispers and hushes. During second period, we got an announcement. "A tragic event has befallen our community. To commemorate the losses, let us hold a moment of silence for all those who lost their lives in this tragic event."


    Most of the time, people just ignored those moments-of-silence announcements like the ones that happened every year on 9/11. But everyone was quiet this time. Maybe it''s because something bad actually happened to them, not just on some TV screen. Our literature teacher tried teaching us for the rest of the period, but I don''t think anyone was really paying attention, so we got the rest of the period off.


    During brunch, there were vigils being set up in the central plaza of our school. Everyone was just wandering around like zombies, mindlessly tapping on their phones. I saw Charles by the library. "Everything alright?" I asked.


    "Yeah," he said. "Maybe. I don''t know."


    "Yeah," I said.


    We stood there for a couple of moments. The wind kicked up a little and the smell of salt in the air became stronger. Charles turned towards me and turned towards me and was about to say something, but the bell rang, and we both said goodbye to each other and headed to our classes as sirens wailed in the background. However, the bell ring didn''t seem to register for many students, and I saw some of my classmates just sitting under the mulberry trees either staring blankly at their phones or crying silently. Others just used the opportunity to ditch class despite the fact that the vice principals were patrolling the plaza, but even they didn''t attempt to stop anyone from leaving.


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    When I was heading towards math, I could see lines of students being marched towards random classrooms as first responders began wheeling gurneys into our classrooms. If our massive gym had gotten filled so quickly and that was the backup, I can''t even imagine how many people must''ve been killed and injured by the tidal tsunamis.


    In the middle of math class, I got a note from the office, telling me that I had a doctor''s appointment today. It was strange because I doubt that any of the hospitals would be open for routine checkups, and I don''t remember any doctor appointments being scheduled today. But I still grabbed my stuff and left. Everything was too sad at school and the sirens were driving me wild. I couldn''t stand being there any longer.


    I went to the office. May was there too along with Mira and Dad. "What are you guys doing here?" I asked.


    "C''mon we have to go," Mira said. "Get into the cars."


    Mom was driving our small electrical car. Dad took the van. I went in the van with Dad and Mira while May went with Mom. "What''s going on?" I asked. "You guys still haven''t answered my question."


    Dad''s face was blanched white. He looked sick. "The damage... What I saw last night. We have to prepare for the worst."


    Mira looked backwards from the front of the car. "Here''s a list of all the items we''re going to buy once we get to the supermarket. Dad and I planned out who is going to handle what. You and May are responsible for getting bottled water and other liquids," she said. "Mom, Dad, and I are handling the canned and dried foods."


    For some reason, I started to smile. Mira and Dad weren''t arguing anymore. Maybe disasters do bring the best out of people. "What''s so funny?" Mira asked.


    "Oh, nothing," I replied. "Why did we have to go to school if you guys were just going to take us out?"


    "It''s my fault," Dad said. "We should''ve been out by daybreak."


    "But that would be before any of the supermarkets opened."


    "I know," Dad said. "We might be too late."


    "After I dropped you guys off to school, I saw the lines at the store," Mira said. "Everyone''s panicking right now. It''s pretty crazy out there."


    "The news is saying that we might not be getting power or gas anytime soon," Dad said. "We have to prepare just in case whatever''s being said on the news turns out to be true."


    We sat in the car in silence. We passed by big supermarkets, all of them jam packed with hordes of cars and people. It was like a warzone, people fighting over shopping carts and cars nearly hitting each other. I don''t think there was ever a time when I''ve seen that many people scared.


    "If we''re going to prepare for the worst, we''re going to need medicine too."


    "Good point," Dad said. "After you get ten crates of water bottles, head for the pharmacy section. Most people aren''t thinking about medicine."


    Some color had returned to his face. I think all this planning makes him feel safer for the future, especially considering what he might have seen last night.


    "We need to grab Tylenol, ibuprofen, and Benadryl," he said. "Anything else?"


    "Vitamins, soaps, toilet rolls, shampoo," Mira said. "There are just too many things to keep track of that we may need."


    "First the food and water," Dad said. "Worry about the other things later."


    We sat in the car as it rumbled down the road. The sky was gray. I think it was forecast to rain today, which is unusual for May. But then again, it paled in comparison to what happened yesterday.


    I asked Dad to turn on the radio. The news station was reporting all kinds of damage around the world. The coasts off of Britain and Ireland were flooded because of their unusually large tidal boundaries. The Netherlands and most of Venice had vanished under the seas. Parts of Australia and Southeast Asia are underwater and most of the Pacific Islands have been buried under the blue ocean. That''s all I heard before he dimmed the volume. I don''t think he wanted to hear any more of the destruction.


    Dad slowed down as we passed by a big supermarket. There were cars sprawled all across the cracked parking lot. Police sirens filled the skies with flashes of red and blue, as the patrol vehicles sped up and down the streets, some of them heading into that nearby supermarket. We passed another supermarket, but there, the police car''s window was smashed, and the glass littered the asphalt. Dad swore. "Why the hell are there so many people everywhere?"


    "That one doesn''t have as many as the others," Mira said and pointed in the distance. "There''s a spot."


    "But what about Mom?" I asked. "Where''s she going to park?"


    "Don''t worry about it, Neal," Dad said. "Right now, the priority is going into the store and getting food and water. We have to prepare ourselves."


    Dad was acting a little paranoid, but I think he was right. With the tides and the waves being so bad, I don''t know if life would ever return back to the way it used to be for a while. We''re better safe than sorry.


    Dad signaled to turn into the parking lot and Mira turned towards me. "Here''s some cash," Mira said, handing me a stack of hundred-dollar bills.


    ''Where''d you get these?" I asked.


    "Remember the earthquake kit you made in 6th grade," Mira said. "It turns out that there was a lot of cash left in there for emergencies."


    The parking lot was a mess. There were cars sprawled everywhere as lights flashed and people shouted slurs and swears. Dad stopped in the middle of the parking lot. "Get out," Mira said.


    "In the middle of the road?"


    "Yes," she said. "We got to get a head start. Dad will be right behind us once he parks."


    "Okay," I said and opened the door, jumping out. "Don''t forget about the bags."


    "I''ve got them," she said and held them up. "Let''s try to find a shopping cart."


    People were running all around us. Most of them were heading for the supermarket, but other people were desperately stuffing bags filled to the brim with fruits and vegetables into their trunks. I scanned around the parking lot and found two shopping carts half-buried in a dark green bush. "Over there," I told Mira.


    We ran for the carts like our lives depended on it. One of the shopping cart''s wheels was a bit flattened and the cart didn''t roll well, but we had to make the best out of what we got. We navigated our way through the parking lot and found Dad. Mom and May were waiting there for us. "We''ve only got two shopping carts," Mira said.


    "Your mom and I will take them," Dad said. "We''ll need to get as much canned food as we can."


    "Do you want me to come with you guys?" Mira asked Dad. "Or should I stick with Neal and May."


    "We''re not children," May said. "We can handle ourselves there. Plus, if things are as bad as everyone says they are, we''re going to need a lot of food."


    "Okay," Mira said and looked at us seriously. "Remember, do not get separated. Stick with each other."


    May gave her a thumbs up, and we hustled to the entrance of the supermarket. If the parking lot was a mess, it was a small one compared to the anarchy inside. There were people crowded everywhere, trying to stuff as much food as they could into their shopping carts while trying to ram their carts out into the parking lot. May and I weaved through the crowds. The floor was sticky with egg yolk and orange juice and wine.


    I peeked through the aisles. Most of the fresh vegetables and fruits were taken along with the junk food and candies. There were a couple of people in the canned food sections, but the shelves were less bare than the chocolates and chips aisle. I wasn''t sure why anyone would be getting junk food (end of the world binging possibly) or fresh vegetables during this crisis, but people are weird sometimes, especially when they''re scared.

 Chapter 2, Part 2

    We reached the far end of the supermarket, where the water was stored. There weren''t many people there but that''s because they were fighting over avocados and expensive chocolates, but the few that were there were dumping cartons upon cartons into shopping carts. The massive water section that was normally chock full of gallons of spring and tap water was quickly disappearing.


    Unfortunately for us, the cartons they stored water in were too big and too heavy to fit into the bags, so May ripped through the plastic wrapping and started piling individual bottles in the bags. I looked around. There were people eyeing us and already, I could see more and more people heading towards the section. I was worried that they might attack us. Who knows what crises do to other people?


    When we both had two bags bulging with water bottles, we both turned and began running to the entrance of the supermarket. A young woman with a child tapped my shoulder, grasping a couple of cans of vegetables. "Please, can you spare me a bag? I''ve got two young children at home."


    I hesitated and nearly gave her my bag. She looked like she needed it more than I did. "What are you doing?" May asked. "Let''s go."


    I mouthed "I''m sorry" to her and disappeared into the crowd, making my way out of the supermarket. I think we were supposed to pay the cashiers, but there wasn''t anyone manning the stations, and some of them probably started buying supplies too. Even if there was someone at the counter, they''d get long trampled by the mob rushing in and out of the stores. So we decided to save our money and leave the store without paying.


    "Why did you stop?" May asked.


    "She needed it more than I did," I said. "She said she had two kids at home that she had to take care of."


    "She''s lying," May replied. "Lots of people will lie to make you believe their stories. They''re just like the homeless people that say they want your money for food but really they want it for drugs."


    "But doesn''t it feel wrong?" I asked.


    "It''s war in there," May said. "And she''s the enemy."


    "The enemy?" I said. "Really? This isn''t a video game or something. This is real life."


    "Look," May said. "I don''t think the world is going to end, but Mom and Dad do, so if we go up to the car and tell them we gave away all our water, imagine what their reaction would be like."


    "I don''t know..."


    "Look," she said. "If it makes you feel any better, if she was able to convince you that you should give away your bottles, then there will be other people who would also feel the same way, and they''ll give away their water. Not us."


    Even after May''s justification, I still felt guilty, but with all the chaos that was around us, I didn''t have much time to dwell upon it.


    Dad was next to the car, dumping cans of food in it. I spotted lots of cans of string beans and mixed vegetables and tomatoes. I didn''t see Mira anywhere, but the trunk was pretty full, so she must''ve come in earlier. We dumped our water bottles in the trunk and watched them roll backwards and out of the trunk. "Shoot," I said.


    May and I had to chase down the cans and bottles rolling around the parking lot. The wind picked up, and the bottles and cans scattered everywhere. We tried collecting as many as we could, but we lost a couple of them.


    When we came back, Dad had built a barrier using the boxes that some of the cans came in to stop them from rolling out. "Dad, I don''t think we''re going to be able to get any of the water bottles efficiently because they''re too heavy, and there aren''t many people there, so May and I are going to go to the medicine section," I said.


    "Okay," Dad said, and we scrambled back into the store.


    There were ugly fights happening over meat and milk along with alcohol. The floor was slippery from the sticky residue of beer leaking from broken bottles and meat bits from torn meat packages.


    "Gross," May said. "I''m going to need new shoes."


    The pharmaceutical section was a bit more peaceful. Most of the medicine has been left untouched, so May and I began stuffing bottles upon bottles of everything: aspirin, cough syrups, anti-reflux medicine, Tylenol¡ª anything we could get our hands on. As we rushed through the exit, I turned back and saw Dad fighting for some juice bottles. Someone had tried to reach inside his cart and grab them. The war inside had gotten worse as more people crowded around the entrance.


    Mom and Mira were there in the car, stuffing in cans of sardines and brussel sprouts. "I don''t eat those," I said as I dumped bottles of medicine in the trunk.


    "This is all just in case," Mom said.


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    "There''s not much food left in the supermarket," Mira said. "Most people are fighting over the good canned foods like tomatoes or pickles. Mom and I didn''t want to get in the middle of those fights, so we took the less popular choices."


    "But sardines," I said. "Seriously? No one in our family would eat those."


    "We were just grabbing as much stuff as we can," she said.


    "Are we just going to stand here and talk?" May asked, tapping her foot. "The medicine section doesn''t have a ton of people, but it won''t last for long."


    "That''s a good idea," Mira said. "Mom, you should stay behind to guard the car. People might start breaking into other people''s cars to steal supplies."


    "Not really sure how a five-foot two middle-aged woman is going to scare anyone," May said and shrugged. "But whatever?"


    Mom ignored May. "Remember to make sure to get vitamins," Mom said. "All this canned food doesn''t have the best nutrients."


    "Yes, Mom," Mira said. "We talked about this in the car."


    "Okay," she said. "I just wanted to be sure."


    We turned to leave.


    "Toilet paper too," Mom blurted out. "And band-aids and pads and probably a million other things. Just clear the shelves."


    May flashed Mom a thumbs up, and we dived back into the chaos. The front of the supermarket was clearing up as the food quickly got taken, leaving behind trashed shelves and a food splattered floor. I stepped in a puddle of red. I hoped it was ketchup or pomegranate juice, not blood.


    Mira, May, and I ran into the pharmacy section and grabbed vitamins and other medications and dumped them in our cart. Many of the people were starting to wise up, and the section began to crowd up as people began using their arms and just sweeping rows of random medications into their shopping carts.


    When we came back again after dropping off the first round of medications to the car, the shelves were emptier. There were still a couple of bottles left, but Mira said that it wasn''t worth it. Better for us to be safe than hurt. I didn''t even know if the hospitals were still working. We moved on to the toiletry section.


    The toiletry section was virtually empty. People so panicked about food and water and medicine that they weren''t really paying attention to the other stuff like toilet paper or shampoo. We were able to grab a couple of big bunches of toilet roll and lots of shampoos and conditioners.


    "Get benzoyl peroxide too," May said.


    "We''re in the middle of a crisis right now and you still care about acne," I said.


    "Can''t you get sick if you have too much acne, and it gets infected with bacteria?" she asked. "You know what, whatever?"


    She turned to the shelf, grabbing a couple of bottles. "What else did Mom say we needed?" I asked May.


    "Vitamins, toilet paper¡ª"


    "We already got that," I said. "What haven''t we got?"


    "Let me think," she said. "Oh, yeah. We''re going to need band aids too. And pads. I''ll grab that since it''ll be weird if you did that."


    May went into another aisle to grab band aids while I took my canvas bag and went into the band aid section. There was no one in that section, and I made sure to grab all different sizes of band aids. There were also those cloth strip bandages, and I stuffed a couple of them in my canvas bag. I knew that I was probably never going to use them, but it''s good to have a backup, just in case.


    We made three of these rounds before Mom decided that we were going to leave. "We don''t have much space in the van," she said and looked at Dad. "You want to head home first?"


    "Good idea. It''ll take me a while to get everything unloaded," Dad said. "May, you''re coming with me."


    "No," she said. "I want to go with Mom and Neal."


    Dad sighed. "Fine. I''ll take the van home. Where are you guys going with the other car?"


    "If everything is as bad as what you saw," Mom said. "We need to be fully prepared. I''m thinking about going to get some plants for our garden, maybe some batteries or matches because our lighter at home doesn''t work well."


    "That''s good. That''s real smart," Dad said. "You''ve got enough cash? I can make a stop at the banks if they''re still working."


    "I''ve got about four hundred dollars. May, Mira, and Neal have two hundred bucks each. We should be fine, and we don''t want to risk the van getting broken into."


    "What time do you guys expect to be back?"


    "In a couple of hours," Mom said. "I''ll check out the city. See if there''s anything else we might need."


    Dad and Mom said their goodbyes, and May, Mira, and I piled into the car, and we attempted to navigate our way out of the parking lot. Mom basically used Dad''s van as a battering ram since people wouldn''t move out of the way of a small car, but when faced with a van, with an especially irritated driver, then they actually listened. Dad spent the whole time yelling out orders to make people move, and Mom just chugged behind him, but glanced from side to side. I think she was worried about someone smashing our windows or something like that.


    When we got onto the main road, Mom relaxed a little and loosened her grip on the steering wheel. "Where are we going next?" May asked.


    "There''s a little plaza a couple of blocks away," Mom said. "There shouldn''t be many people there, and I think there''s a little nursery over there."


    There was silence in the car. We sped down the streets. All of a sudden, I just started thinking about the beach. I don''t know why. It just stayed in my mind, and I couldn''t help but to think about it. I thought about all the people that got taken by the waves and tides and how scared they must''ve been. I should''ve been horrified about pondering about the deaths of people at our school, but everything that has happened has just felt so unreal, like a bad dream, that it feels like it didn''t happen at all.


    "Was the beach that bad?" I asked Mom. "I know you weren''t there, but Dad talked to you about it, right?"


    Mom sighed. "We didn''t talk much about it," she said. "If you want to know, you should ask your father about it."


    Another awkward silence. Mira was staring at the clouds from outside the window, and May stared at the seat of the chair in front of her, thinking about who knows what. I cleared my throat.


    "Can you turn on the radio?" I asked.


    Mira fiddled with the knob to the music station. It blasted out some pop hits and for a couple of minutes, everything felt normal. Then, Mom turned into a plaza. She was right. It was mostly empty. "Who''s going to go where?" I asked.


    "There are a couple of clothing shops," Mom said. "May and I will go there. You can head for the nursery. We''ll probably finish a little early, so we''ll go to the convenience store. They should have some spare batteries and matches. We''re going to need them if the power never comes back on."


    "What about the car?" I asked. "What if someone breaks in?"


    "We''ll cover up the windows," Mom said. "I''ve got the sun-reflector panels. We can put them on the back windows. You guys go ahead."

 Chapter 2, Part 3

    Mira and I ran into the nursery. It was pretty devoid of people, though there were people speeding through rows of shelves, piling all kinds of random plants into their cart as fast as possible. The whole air was humid and there were plants dangling from hanging pots, lush and green. Blossoms overflowed from flowerpots and small butterflies flitted from flower to flower. "It''s pretty nice in here," Mira said, her breath heavy from all the running that we were doing.


    "Mostly nice and quiet," I said. "It''s chaos everywhere else."


    "Yeah," she said. "What should we get?"


    "How much cash did Mom give us?"


    "About five hundred bucks," she said. "More than enough."


    We grabbed a cart and roamed the aisles, walking quickly to make sure we got everything before other people took it. We stopped next to a rack of tomato plants that only had a couple of flats in them.


    "Tomatoes?" I said. "But May hates them."


    "The end of the world is no time for us to be picky," she said and plopped all the flats of tomatoes and eggplants into the cart.


    "Eggplants? They''re pretty gross," I said.


    "Same thing for you. No more picky eating," she said. I put two flats of zucchini and a flat of cucumber into the cart, but then I decided to add five more of each. More food is better, and our car had a lot of space since the cans were in the van. Mira came back and dumped onion and garlic flats into the cart while I picked up a couple of bell pepper and strawberries flats.


    "We should grab some seeds," I said. "Just in case these plants don''t make it."


    "Good thinking ahead," Mira said. "I''ll grab a couple of packets. The cart''s pretty full. You can probably start heading for checkout."


    She ran and disappeared behind a column of plants and ivies. I pushed the cart slowly towards the checkout and paused to grab a couple of pots of fresh herbs. Canned food is probably going to suck. Hopefully some fresh basil or thyme can make things better. I went to the checkout line, but I had to wait because Mira had all the money. "What are all these for?" the checkout guy said.


    He was pretty young, probably a bit older than me and in college, with brownish hair and bluish eyes and looked pretty bored but nervous. He kept looking down at his watch, probably checking the time till he could leave, even though his manager seemed to be nowhere. "Summer gardening," I lied.


    I knew that everyone else was panic buying, but I still felt a bit guilty about it, and I guess I was worried that I''d be judged for it. The radio kept talking about how we were supposed to remain calm and stay at home and not hoard, and I felt bad for breaking this rule, even if it was just a recommendation.


    He nodded skeptically before turning to me. "Is it really as bad as the radio is saying? I''ve been stuck here all morning, but I''ve heard that stores are burning down and being looted and that all the beachfront houses are gone."


    "Yeah," I said. "It''s bad."


    "Have you seen my manager?" he asked. "Tall, grayish-blond hair."


    "I think he left."


    "Oh," he said and sat back down before standing up and pacing. There was no one else in the nursery anymore, so we just awkwardly waited, no one saying a word until Mira came. She paid for the flats, and we left the store. "Good luck with the garden," the guy said and flashed a nice smile before hanging up his employee apron and grabbing his car keys. "Thanks for shopping here."


    We went to the car. Mom was already there. She had a bunch of sweaters in her arm and was trying to dump them into the front of the car. May was next to her fuming. "It''s the end of the world," she said. "Might as well buy actual good clothes, not whatever these are."


    "We''re not wasting money on expensive clothing," Mom said. "Even if it''s the end of the world."


    "I thought you didn''t think the world is ending," I said to May.


    "Well. I''ve changed my mind," she said.


    "Okay," I said. "Whatever you say."


    "Hey, Mira," Mom said. "Can you go to the convenience store to get some matches and batteries and whatever you want."


    "Sure," she said and left for the small corner store.


    Mom looked at the car and sighed. "How are we going to fit everything in here?"


    Fitting everything in the car was a nightmare. The middle seat was taken up by the mountain of sweaters and socks and shirts and all the other pieces of clothing. Mom dumped some of the shirts and socks on the floor of the car. "Please don''t step on them," Mom said.


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    "We''re going to wash them, so it doesn''t even matter," May said. "And also, they''re cheap, so it''s not like it matters if we ruin some of them."


    "Well, it should matter," Mom said and muttered under her breath. "Spoiled kids."


    "Hey," I said. "I''m not complaining."


    The plants were a complete mess. Mom tried to fit them side by side in the trunk, but it was pretty clear that there wasn''t enough space, so we had to stack them on top of each other. Mom accidentally knocked a whole flat of vegetables down, and dirt scattered across the floor of our trunk. Mom inhaled sharply. "When this ends, this car is going to need a car wash."


    Mira came back with bags filled with batteries and matches. She even got some candy because we were all tired and could use an energy boost. "Getting these things was embarrassing," Mira said when she reached the car. "The lady at the counter thought I was a smoker or something. She was giving me some serious side-eye."


    "Maybe ''cause you''re actually a smoker," May muttered, even though as far as I know, Mira''s never touched a cigarette in her life.


    Mom grabbed the bags and stuffed them in the pockets behind the seats. "You can''t get through life without being embarrassed a little," she said.


    "Woah," May said sarcastically. "Look at Mom''s super wise wisdom. I can''t handle it."


    "Thank you," Mom said. "Get in the car. We''re leaving."


    That was when I thought of something. Power is going to be an issue, so what if we generate our own power to supplement our loss. "Mom?" I said.


    "Yes," she said.


    "Can we go and buy something else?"


    "We don''t have any more space," she said. "So it better be important."


    "I was thinking about solar panels."


    "Go on," she said. ''That sounds like a good plan."


    "I think that we can buy solar panels at camping stores. Most people aren''t going to be there because everyone''s so focused on food and water, and we''ve got one on the way to our house."


    "And how do you know this?" May asked.


    "I may or may not have been obsessed with zombie apocalypse books and done a little side research," I said.


    "God, you''re weird," May said.


    "Not as weird as you."


    "Says the weirdo."


    "You guys aren''t five-year-olds, so don''t act like them," Mom said. "That''s a great idea. The camping store has lanterns too and other supplies probably."


    "There''s no space back here," May said. "I''ve got barely enough room for my legs."


    "We''ll make space," Mom said. "Or I''ll kick someone out of the car."


    There was a moment of silence after that. "That was a joke," Mom said.


    "Not funny Mom," I said. "Not funny."


    "Kids these days, so hard to please," she muttered and turned into the parking lot.


    We stopped at the camping store. The parking lot was somewhat full, but that''s because there was another brawl at the supermarket next door. Mom and Mira went into the camping store while May and I stayed in the car because it was safer. "Should we get more food?" I asked Mom before she and Mira left.


    "No," Mom said. "There''s a good chance that most of the supermarket is empty, and it''ll be dangerous. Just wait in the car, and we''ll be back soon."


    "Okay," I said and stared out of the window. Looking at the sun, you''d think that it was a normal pre-summer day, but if you took a deeper glance, you could see the soft outline of the Moon in the background. Everything seemed to change last night, and nothing feels like it would change back for a long time.


    Mom and Mira came back carrying two solar panels cases and a crate of lanterns and miscellaneous items. "Were there more?" I asked.


    "Yeah," Mira said. "But they''re limiting the amount each person can buy to two only."


    She grabbed a lantern. "But we were free to buy as many lanterns as we wanted to, and these solar phone chargers weren''t completely restricted, so I got a whole bunch of them."


    "What are we going to do with¡ª How many of them are there? Five? Six? Seven?" I said.


    ''We''ll figure it out," Mira said. "Better safe than sorry."


    "True. True," I said. "The big question is how are we going to fit in the car."


    May and I were forced to sit together on one seat. The seat belt would fit around the both of us, but I was sitting by the door while May sat closer to the center, so if we got into a crash, I''d crash into the seat in front of me while May would fly out of the front window. "If I die," May said. "I''m going to come back and haunt you guys forever."


    "Whatever you say," I said, and May shot me a quick glare.


    "Don''t worry, we''re driving slow," Mom said.


    We drove slowly and cautiously. Some of the traffic lights weren''t working, so everyone had to take turns. It felt like a solid half an hour before we reached home. It took us even longer to unpack everything. Cans kept spilling out of the trunk and some of the flats spilled over and dumped dirt in the car.


    When we came back home, Dad had finished dumping all the cans into random cardboard boxes that were laid in our garage. Everyone was so tired today that we didn''t bother to sort out the cans. That was a problem for later. All we did was take out the flats that had spilled soil everywhere in the trunk and tried filling the soil back in.


    There was no dinner today. Mom went to sleep early, and Mira and May soon followed. We still had to go to school tomorrow, which was unfortunate, but Mom was insistent on that. "No skipping school, ever," she said.


    "School might not be open tomorrow," May retorted.


    "Well, you two are still going to get dressed for school," Mom said. "It''s good to have some normalcy in your lives."


    Before I went to sleep, I went up to Dad''s office. He was probably working on something important. "Is our house safe?" I asked.


    Dad turned towards me in his swivel chair.


    "It will be safe," Dad said. "We''re more than thirty feet above the sea level and the tides are not going to rise higher than that."


    "But what about storms or full moon high tides or¡ª"


    "Everything''s going to be fine," Dad said.


    "But you were so worried about the tides this morning and¡ª"


    "Of course I''m worried, but that was before," he said. "We''ve got food and medicine now. We''re better prepared and ready if things go bad."


    "What I saw on the beach... The things that I saw on the beach were things of nightmares. I can see the images replaying in my head over and over again. It''s why I was so shaken up in the morning," he continued. "But we''ve got things under control right now, well the best control we could possibly have, and all we need to do now is to wait and hope things get better and if they don''t, we have a backup plan."


    "Okay," I said. I didn''t fully understand what he meant, but I think I understood the point of his ramble. Actually, thinking about it, I don''t really understand it at all, but I get the spirit of his answer, lodged somewhere in between hope and fear.

 Chapter 3, Part 1

    May 20


    School let out early today. We only had thirty minute periods and most of the time we didn''t do much in class. More people were gone, maybe around twenty percent of our class was left. I guess everyone''s worried about more flooding and decided to move away, possibly to higher grounds.


    The gym was still filled with patients from the hospital, and temporary fences were installed all around the building to keep us out, though no one could resist gawking. Some of the classrooms were converted into shelters for the displaced families, so in some of my classes, we ended up sharing a room with another class. Everyone was pretty quiet though, so it didn''t end up as bad as I had expected.


    Charles and I took a detour when we were walking home today to see the flood zone. There was bright yellow tape around cones marking the borders of the danger zone. High tide was rising, and you could see the murky blue ocean water sweeping up the debris in the distance. On the other side of the border, the rows and rows of houses stretching across dozens of blocks were stained tan and the grass was soggy.


    "Do you think it''s going to be like this forever?" he asked.


    "I don''t know."


    "That''s a terrible answer."


    "Fine. I do think it''s going to be like this for a long time."


    "Do you think the government is going to come and save us and maybe everything will go back to normal?"


    "I don''t think so."


    "Some part of me is happy that this happened," he said. "Because now we''ve got a beach in our backyard."


    I chuckled. I know I shouldn''t have. Lots of people died from the flooding. But I think he was trying to lighten up the mood. "Wow," he said. "You just laughed about the death of thousands of people."


    "Oh no," I said sarcastically. "I''m such a terrible person."


    And he laughed, and then, even though I felt bad for making this joke, we were both laughing at something that wasn''t even remotely funny because it''s the only thing that we can do. We passed a whole line of cars and a horde of people by the gas station. Gas prices have risen already to nine dollars a gallon. I think all the offshore rigs got destroyed with the tides and most of the port cities are badly damaged from all the flooding.


    I dropped him off at his house. I think he''s getting worried about everything that''s happening. This whole world around us is changing so fast. And it feels too fast for me to keep up with.


    The power at home went out, so I couldn''t open the garage door with my phone, but luckily, I had a house key in my backpack. There weren''t any cans scattered on the floor anymore, and boxes seemed to be stacked neatly on the side of the house. Mira was sitting on the ground.


    "Are you going back to college?" I asked.


    "Mom wants me to stay," she said. "She''s worried about all of us after what''s happened, but I don''t know."


    "What do you mean?" I asked.


    "You promise not to tell Mom and Dad?" she asked, and I nodded. "I have a boyfriend."


    "Ooh, so scandalous," I said sarcastically.


    "You know how Mom and Dad feel about dating," she said. "No college boyfriends!"


    "Wait, didn''t Mom and Dad meet in college?"


    "Hypocrites," she said, and we shared a soft chuckle before everything became serious again.


    "But I''m worried about him," she said. "Our college is a couple of miles away from the coast and I''m scared that it flooded. And with the power being out and cellular service down, I have no idea what happened there."


    I didn''t know what to say back to her, so I said the best thing that I could think of. "Hopefully, everything''s going to be alright."


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    "Yeah," she said, turning away to push boxes. "I hope so."


    May 22


    I told Mom and Dad about the gasoline price increases, and I managed to skip out on driving lessons on the weekend. But now I''m stuck studying for the SAT subject test for math. Apparently, Mom and Dad think that even when the whole world is ending, studying for the SATs is somehow important.


    We still don''t have any power. It came on for a couple of minutes in the middle of the night, so everything began running and then faded away. We''ve got some solar panels charging in our backyard, but 32V of electricity isn''t even enough to support a washing machine, let alone power an entire house.


    But you know what''s the worst part of losing power. It''s not the lack of internet (though that''s a close second)¡ª it''s that dang fire alarm that keeps beeping. I swear it''s driving me crazy. I''m going to ask Dad to disable it tomorrow. I think I''m more likely to die of annoyance than from a fire.


    Our governor says that he''s working on fixing up the power system, so that everyone will have power by the end of the week. I doubt that''s going to happen with all the damage to the oil rigs and ports. Maybe the government might finally start investing in solar and wind.


    There''s no school tomorrow. Mom and Dad are still going to work. They''re taking Mom''s electrical car. We''ve got a good amount of miles left on it, so I think we''re fine.


    I''ll probably head to Charles'' house tomorrow. There isn''t much to do without the internet. Mom said to make sure to dump the laundry into the washer if the power turns on. I''ll ask May to do it since she owes me a favor.


    May 23


    I biked to his house sometime this morning. Mira took the other bike to roam around town. She''s worried about her boyfriend and I guess she wanted some time alone or something like that. Because of all these power outages, I don''t think there was much for Charles to do. His house also didn''t have power, so we decided to bike into town to see what was happening.


    There were lots of people roaming the streets. I guess no one has anything better to do. All the cafes and stores were closed though, so no one seemed to be doing anything. There were papers fluttering through the air. I picked one up. It was a missing person sign. There was a young woman holding her dog and smiling like she had no cares in the world.


    Charles and I looked at each other knowingly. "Do you want to head back?" I asked. "There''s nothing much to do."


    He shook his head. "No. Let''s stay. We might be able to find stuff out."


    "Okay."


    I got off my bike. "I have to do something first."


    I took the missing person sheet to the wall. There was an old poster for the summer festival taped on the brick wall. I grabbed the piece of tape and taped the sheet onto the wall, letting the summer festival one drift with the wind. I doubt that we''re ever going to have a summer festival. I might as well use the tape for something more useful. It''s the least I could do.


    We biked around town for a bit. "Can you do this?" he asked as he let go of his bike handles.


    "No," I said. "Isn''t that really dangerous."


    "There aren''t any cars around," he said. "I dare you to do it."


    "I''m not taking your dare."


    "Chicken."


    "I don''t care."


    "I think you do."


    "I don''t know what you''re talking about."


    "You owe me."


    "For what?"


    "The deal we made on Wednesday."


    "No."


    "No? What''s that supposed to mean?"


    "It was for something of equal magnitude."


    "Exactly, it was made for this."


    "No. That''s dangerous."


    "Fine. I''ll remember this forever."


    "Blackmail? That''s a new low for you."


    "That''s what best friends are for," he said.


    "You''re so annoying sometimes."


    "Someone has got to push you to do something new," he said.


    "Fine." I said. "I''ll do it."


    I let go of the handlebars for half a second. It wasn''t long enough for him. So I forced myself to let go of the handles for five seconds and nearly fell on the ground. This is why you shouldn''t have friends.


    Most of the stores and cafes were dark, and as we passed strip malls and plazas, I noticed that most of the grocery stores had their windows shattered and were deserted, with the couple that remained untouched being heavily guarded by security guards and police forces patrolling the streets. But even those places were filled with shadows and unpowered by electricity.


    I don''t think anyone had power except for the places with backup generators like our school or the hospital. There was a memorial being held in front of town hall with flowers and candles strewn across the ground. There were lots of people sitting and crying and being sad. We biked away from town hall. It was too depressing of a sight.


    We got hungry for lunch and since nothing was really open (except for a heavily guarded stand that was selling ice-cream and popsicles for 70% discount), I went back home while he went back to his house. May said that the power came on for about fifteen minutes, but it went away. We had to lay out the dripping clothes in the bathtub and the railings on the stairs. It was a big mess.


    We ate some canned beans for lunch. The microwave wasn''t working, but our burners still lit up, so we used it to heat the limp, gray beans. Today was our first day eating canned food. I don''t think I''ll ever get used to eating it.


    "Remember that time when we wanted the world to end so that school could be canceled?" I asked.


    "Yeah."


    "Any regrets now?"


    "Nope. The apocalypse is pretty boring."


    "Yeah. What type of apocalypse would you like?"


    "Something like a zombie apocalypse. I mean it''d be a lot more fun to whack the heads of the zombies with baseball bats."


    "I''m pretty sure that''s not how it works."


    "Who cares?"


    She shrugged and left some beans in her bowl unfinished. "You''re wasting food," I said, calling out to her as she walked away.


    "It''s not like it matters. The world''s not actually ending."


    She disappeared into her room probably to get away from me. I hope she''s right though.

 Chapter 3, Part 2

    May 24


    Another day off from school, but it''s resuming tomorrow. I guess everyone is pretty shaken up by everything that has happened.


    May wanted to go out with her friends to see what town is like. I wanted to tell her that there wasn''t anything special in town, but I decided not to. Mira woke up for a bit to move some boxes around to make space for all the random stuff that we bought from the supermarket, but she went back to sleep in the afternoon.


    I was pretty bored. I wrote a note telling Mira that I left the house and placed it on the table. I walked outside. There were people hooking up generators to their houses while other people were just lounging around. With all the power out, no one can do much work anyways, so people are taking some time off. If it wasn''t for the disaster at the beach, everything would look normal.


    But the sharp smell of salt water broke the illusion. The ocean was so close to our houses now. The twenty foot tides pushed the waves a quarter mile inland, and the smell of brine and seawater was stronger than ever.


    I wonder what happened to the people on the beaches. The waves must have rushed in, much faster and much stronger than our typical high tide and swept people away into the deep ocean. It must''ve been terrifying, feeling the cold water rush over you as you got dragged into the abyss, disappearing into the deep blues of the ocean.


    I think that some people must''ve survived. We all took courses in swimming and floating. But Dad looked so freaked out that I feel like my optimism has been misplaced and that almost everyone died.


    I don''t know if I want to go to school tomorrow. Everything seems so depressing.


    May 25


    They were holding memorials in school today. There were pictures of students with wilting flowers and other little trinkets scattered around their bases. Tear streaked students were up there reciting speeches about how they thought that their friend always lit up the room with their smile and how they were always a source of positivity.


    Only the popular people seemed to get this treatment. Some of the memorials under the loners consisted of plastic blossoms and cigarette ends. Some of them didn''t have anything. I picked a dandelion blossom and placed it at the base of a picture. I didn''t know who that person was, but I wanted them to know that someone still remembered them.


    There were lots of substitute teachers in class. Finals are in another week, but some teachers have already cancelled them. There will be no history or literature finals to give students time to grieve for their loved ones. And best of all, there won''t be any math finals since my teacher left school to take care of family on the east coast. I hope they''re okay.


    I don''t think anyone was really doing anything in class. Most people were charging their phones since school was one of the few places still left with electricity or chatting with their friends. Even the substitute teachers didn''t care. Some of them just left class in the middle of the period. I don''t think anyone was in the mood to work.


    Occasionally, in the middle of the period, a group of students would pop in to remind us about the charity donations for people who were affected by the flood. I know we have plenty of spare clothes, but I don''t think Mom and Dad would allow me to donate them.


    But I asked them anyway. "Do you think we could donate some spare clothes to some of the people who lost their homes during the floods?"


    Mom sighed. "I think that it''s good that you''re looking out to help other people, but I think there are people in other communities that were less affected that could help more."


    "I agree with your mom," Dad said. "Other people will be able to help them better than us. The city will probably move them into new homes, and they''ll pay for everything."


    "But what about the other people?" I asked. "Like down in Mississippi or Florida that got hit pretty hard by the floods and their governments are pretty much ruined."


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    "If we were in a different situation," Dad said. "I''d donate to them. If the electricity came back on and everything went back to normal, then I''d give away a couple of spare jackets or blankets. But not now."


    "Okay," I said and went to my room. I don''t know about Mom and Dad''s choice not to help other people. I feel guilty about thinking that maybe Mom and Dad are right actually. Other people might be better equipped to help than we are. But just thinking about that feels wrong.


    May 26


    We got an announcement that tomorrow was going to be the last day of school. Not like it was going to make much of a difference. School is already pretty much over.


    They said that there was declining enrollment, and that teachers and students were simply not showing up. Most of my teachers cancelled their finals except for chemistry. She scheduled it for tomorrow, but I already have a 97 in that class, so I don''t really need to study.


    I''ve got As in the rest of my classes except for Math, but I got almost an A, so the school is going to round it up. Charles and I said our goodbyes. He wasn''t going to school tomorrow. Our friendship is mostly confined to school, and we don''t usually see each other during the summer. "I''ll see you next school year," I said.


    "If there even is one," Charles said.


    "I''m sure that they''ll figure something out," I said. "You doing anything interesting?"


    "I don''t know," Charles said. "We''ll see."


    "I thought you had your summer planned out."


    "Well the whole thing with the Moon blew everything apart," he said. "So I''ll figure something out."


    "And if not," Charles added. "I''ll just tell colleges that I''m applying to that I was in a disaster, so there wasn''t much that I could do about it."


    "Okay," I said as we approached his house. "Bye."


    "Bye," he said and went into his house.


    One more day of school left before freedom.


    May 27


    Goodbye school. I''m not sure how school is going to be next year. They''re putting up posters for the start of school since no one has electricity and access to their emails. I think they''re assuming that everything is going to get better in time.


    I just realized that they probably cancelled school because of power issues. I guess the city wanted to save power for more essential places like the hospital or the police station. But honestly, who cares? I''m done with my sophomore year of high school!


    The bad year of high school is coming though. Hopefully, I''ll do well (or pray that it never comes).


    May 29


    Summer feels different with the power being out. No playing video games on the computer or scrolling through news articles online. Most of the time, I''m just laying around doing nothing much.


    I know I should be doing something though. Anything really. Don''t colleges want you to spend your summers volunteering or working at some job? That''s a pretty stupid requirement. We should spend our summers destressing, not slaving our lives away.


    Mom and Dad are really emphasizing the idea that college is coming up and now, it feels closer than ever. They want me to be prepared, but all I feel is stress and anxiety.


    May 31


    There was a newspaper on our front door today. It was from a small local paper. Normally, everyone in my family just ignores them because it''s easier to get news online than on paper. But I was extremely bored today. Nothing to do at all, so I picked it up and began reading.


    There was a section about our town. I mostly skimmed the article. There were quotes from the head chiefs of the firefighters and police along with some statements from the council people and the mayor. But what hit me the most were the images.


    There were drone pictures of the before and after. In the before picture, I could see everything that made our coast our coast. A little wooden pier at the edge of the beach that we all had to visit for our annual 4th grade end of school year field trip. The big mansions that lined the coastal area¡ª the ones that the extremely rich people at our school had that everyone was envious of. The small park that Dad made me play tennis in. The small marts where we''d buy erasers and other supplies for middle school. The rows and rows of houses filled with people that I talked to, but never actually knew.


    And then I looked at the after photo. Everything near the beach¡ª the mansions and piers¡ª were gone, leaving only tips of roofs with thin necks of palm trees sticking up. As you move away from the water, the houses gradually appear, more roofs showing, some more walls, maybe even the driveway. But I could see the damage done by the ocean, and now this disaster feels more real than ever.


    "Will they ever fix this?" I asked Mira.


    "Maybe," she said. "But there''s no point. Seawalls won''t be able to stop anything."


    "So we should just leave them there?"


    "Yeah," she said. "They''re going to be able to fix it in the future."


    "Do you think they''re building sea walls around your college," I said. "I mean there''s a lot of people liv¡ª"


    "Look, Neal," she said. "Can we not talk about this?"


    I can see the worry in her eyes. "Okay," I said.


    We sat there for a couple of awkward minutes before I left. This silence was unbearable. I could almost hear the roar of the waves.


    I cranked on the radio and listened to the anchor talking. Rescue options are limited due to the intensity of the disaster and protests are breaking out everywhere because people are saying that the government is helping the richer people rather than the poor majority. More flooding, more deaths, more lives lost, more houses destroyed, more children orphaned.


    Is this all there is to life anymore?

 Chapter 4, Part 1

    June 1


    There was an earthquake today. We were all lounging in the house: me at the table trying not to die of boredom, May on the couch eating some canned something, Mira sitting in the backyard watching the solar panels and sunbathing.


    There was a slight tremor, almost unnoticeable. "Did you feel that?" I asked May.


    She rolled her head towards me. "You''re hallucinating."


    I went outside to Mira. "Did you feel that?"


    "No. It was probably the wind or something."


    "Okay. Whatever you guys say," I replied and went back to staring at the ceiling from the table. I wasn''t really convinced, but I thought that maybe I was imagining things because I was so bored.


    But then the ground began to shake real hard. The dishes in the dish rack clattered and some cans we dumped in our recycling bin began rolling around crazily. "Earthquake," I shouted at Mira and May.


    After those words left my mouth, it''s funny that no one moved¡ª not even me. I know California is supposed to be the center of earthquakes in America, but most of us have never experienced a serious earthquake. Sure, there are a couple of smaller tremors, but never at this scale.


    The only thing that brought us out of our paralysis was when a dish clattered to the edge of the counter, falling and shattering into a million little pieces.


    "Go under the table!" Mira yelled and we dove under it. Me, Mira, and May cramped under the dining table as the world fell apart around us. I could feel my heart fluttering, rising up to my throat and trying to escape as I hung on to the table leg for my life. Mira placed her hands on the underside of the table to hold it up just in case it collapsed on us while May gazed at the cans rolling across the floor with a small smile, for some reason.


    The tremors stopped after a minute, but the house was a mess. Can piles toppled over in the pantry and broken dishes lay scattered across the floor. Luckily, Mira had put all the jars in the back of the pantry, so none of them broke apart. Otherwise, that''d have been a big mess.


    "I wonder what caused the earthquake," I said.


    "Maybe it''s the big one," Mira suggested.


    "Or maybe earthquakes just happen," May said.


    "I think it might be something to do with the Moon," I said. "You know, like how the tides and everything is getting messed up."


    "Neal," Mira said. "You can''t blame everything on the Moon."


    "Yeah," I said. "I guess."


    Mira and May swept up all the glass shards on the floor and piled them into a plastic bag. I re-stacked the cans in the pantry. Mira helped put together a collection of cans, bottled water, and some flashlights and batteries as a small earthquake kit, just in case the big one came. I guess the earthquake gave us something to do on this pretty boring day. I wish I had the internet.


    June 4


    The tremors continued today, but no one frantically dived underneath tables. The dishes clattered and the house trembled like a train was passing by, but it only lasted a couple of seconds. I guess everyone has gotten used to this new normal. I think I''m getting closer there.


    It turns out that my theory about the moon affecting the earthquakes was correct. On the radio, I heard that scientists were talking about how the Moon was pulling on the crust of Earth, so there is going to be heightened tectonic activity. Already, in Hawaii, the volcano on the big island is erupting more often and spewing out tons of lava. It''d be pretty cool to watch.


    I left a note for Mira and May to tell them that I was going to the library. I knew that Mira took the first bicycle to the post office. She''s worried about her boyfriend in college. I think she''s hoping for some letter or note, but with all the oil drilling platforms being destroyed, I don''t think the mailing system is working fully because of the gasoline shortages, but I think the government will figure out a solution. May was napping in her room. To give her credit, with nothing to do, summer is a great way to catch up on missed sleep.


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    Getting some fresh air felt good. Being cramped inside with two other people was pretty crappy. I pedaled towards the library to check out some books. Even though I read a lot, I almost never go to the city''s library. My school''s library usually had interesting books to read. But with nothing to do at home and school being out, I thought it was a good time to make a change.


    Turned out that the city library had power, which was a bit weird since libraries don''t seem to be as important as other utilities like mail. But there were tons of people congregating around the entrance, cooling themselves off as the AC blasted every time someone walked through the door. I parked my back in a crowded bike rack and went inside. There was a notice placed on the wall:


    Library Losing Power 6/19.


    A line of people snaked around the walls of the library, wrapping around some empty bookshelves. I went to check out what everyone was waiting for. There were two computers in the corner of the library, both ancient dinosaurs of a machine. An armed guard stood in the front of the line, directing people forwards, telling them that they''ve got five minutes at most to use those computers before they have to leave.


    I peered over and saw the screens. There were endless blocks of text. Some people were smiling, others were sobbing, some were just tapping their fingers against their thighs, trying to conceal their shaking knees. I think I know what they''re looking at. It must be the list of the dead and the missing.


    I turned away and checked out some books, a couple of dystopian fiction novels and some coming-of-age stories. The librarians were worried about the online databases breaking due to power shortages, so we wrote down our names and the books we checked out. I realized that I could just lie about my name and get away with it, but I followed the honor system. Plus, it wasn''t like anyone else was checking out books.


    I left the library quickly. Even with all the AC there, I guess everything felt too sad to stay. I biked the other way home, passing by city hall. There was a long line of people snaking around the main building. I was going to ask some random person about what''s going on, but my crippling shyness struck me, so I stood there and watched the people.


    Most people were leaving with a medium sized bag of food. I guess this was the summer food giveaway. I reached into my pocket for my phone to call for Mira and May to come and line up with me, but then realized that it wouldn''t really be useful. This is why we need the internet.


    I raced home, but Mira wasn''t there. May was sitting on the couch, laying around. "We''re going to the city hall," I said. "There''s some food drive there. We have to go quickly before the line gets longer."


    "We''ve already got enough food here to last forever. Plus, I don''t want to wait in line for hours."


    "Do you want Mom and Dad to get mad at us?" I asked and she didn''t respond. "C''mon let''s go then."


    "Fine. You''re so annoying," she said.


    "How are we going to tell Mira about it? She isn''t even home yet."


    "I don''t know. Just leave her a note or something on the door."


    "How are we even going to get there?"


    "We''ll bike."


    "Hello," she said. "Earth to Neal. We''ve only got one bike."


    "I''ll take a scooter."


    "Do whatever," she said, leaving the house. "C''mon, you said you wanted to go, so let''s go."


    We went to the city hall. The line was even longer than before, and the crowd was getting rowdy. The sun was beating down on all of us, scorching the ground. I wished that I could teleport to the air-conditioned library.


    "Hey guys," Mira said and both May and I snapped our heads back. "I saw your note."


    Mira arrived about twenty minutes after we got in line. "How did you find out about this?" she asked.


    I shrugged. "Went to the library and then passed by and noticed this."


    "I passed by the library on the way here. There seems to be a lot of people there. Do you know what''s happening?"


    "Well..." I said, but I was cut off by an announcement.


    Someone had gotten a megaphone and was speaking into it. "Sorry, we don''t have any more food. Please come back next Saturday for the next food giveaway."


    There was a lot of shouting following this announcement. "We''ll starve to death... I have two children at home... Surely you can spare some extra."


    People broke out of the line, forming a mob in front of the steps to the building. The woman with the megaphone turned towards them. "Again, we are out of food. Please come back next week."


    "Disassemble yourselves and go home," she said.


    "We have first amendment rights," a man shouted back.


    Someone threw a rock at her, and she ducked as it sailed over her head. "First amendment rights do not protect violent assemblies. This is my final warning. Disassemble and leave immediately or I will call the cops."


    But no one listened to her. I guess everyone was too scared about starving or too angry about not getting enough food. It''s been three weeks since the grocery stores have closed. Some people must''ve not been as prepared as us. A chant began to form in the crowd. "We want food! We want food! We want food!"


    Someone threw some glass and it shattered, and the mob began to surge in all directions.


    "C''mon let''s get out of here," Mira said.


    We snuck through the crowd of people and grabbed our bikes and scooters. We could hear the faint sirens of the police cars in the background as we navigated our way out of the parking lot and onto the main road. I turned back after what felt like a minute.


    Police were making some announcements, but it was too hard to hear what they were saying over the cries of the people, who adopted a new chant. "Murderers! Murderers! Murderers!"


    But after a couple of minutes, even their shouts faded away to the background, leaving no other sounds but the waves crashing and the soft rustle of the trees.


    "Mira?" I said.


    "Yeah."


    "So about the library..."


    "Oh, yeah. What''s going on there?"


    I paused and took a deep breath. "Nothing much. I guess everyone''s too bored without the internet, so they''re finally reading."


    It was a flimsy lie. I was going to tell Mira about it. But I decided not to. It was better for her not to know. And I guess I don''t want everything to change if I make this choice.

 Chapter 4, Part 2

    June 5


    Mom and Dad exploded on us today for yesterday. "Why did you take them to city hall yesterday, Mira? We heard that there was a riot there. A riot. You could''ve gotten Neal or May hurt!" Dad yelled.


    "Well, I''m sorry for looking out for our family," Mira yelled back. "Didn''t you want to conserve our food if things get worse!"


    "Well, someone could''ve gotten hurt, and god knows what we have done then."


    "We got out before anything went wrong," she said. "And literally no one got hurt, so I''m not sure why you''re making such a big deal out of this."


    "Go to your room Mira," he shouted.


    She laughed bitterly. "What do you think I am? Five or something? I''m twenty years old, not some little kid."


    "You''re in my house. You follow my rules."


    "It''s not like it''s all your house. Mom pays for it too, maybe we should ask her about it."


    I closed my eyes. The only thing worse than the sounds of people fighting are dishes breaking. "Can you guys stop it!" I yelled. "It wasn''t Mira''s idea to go there. It was mine, okay! So can you guys just stop shouting at each other and get together and start figuring out whatever issues that you guys have."


    They both looked stunned. I walked upstairs and closed the door to my room and began writing in this journal. I looked out of the window. The moon was smack-dab in the middle of the sky, crowding out all the stars. I could still hear the echoes of shouting from downstairs.


    If there was a shooting star, I''d wish on it to stop all this fighting. Why can''t Mira and Dad just get along?


    June 7


    Charles came to my house today. "What are you doing here?" I asked.


    He shrugged. "I got bored and there''s nothing really to do. Do you want to go out somewhere?"


    "Yes," I said. It was a good way to escape the stifling atmosphere at home, especially considering what happened a couple of days ago. Everything is just so awkward between everyone. Dad and Mira are still glaring at each other while Mom tries to play the peacemaker.


    "Mira. May," I yelled into the house. "I''m going out with Charles."


    "Don''t die," May said. There wasn''t any response from Mira, probably because she was in her room or in the garden fixing up the plants or something.


    We walked down the cracked sidewalks, brushing past overgrown stalks of grass and bristly bushes. No one wants to waste gasoline to fuel up the lawnmowers and chainsaws because gas prices are up to fifteen dollars a gallon. Mom and Dad''s workplaces are both shutting down by the end of the week because no one can afford to keep their place running on backup generators, though I''m pretty sure that they really weren''t doing much at work anyways. Their companies said that they''ll be rehiring when everything goes back to normal, but I don''t think everything will ever be the same again.


    "Did you feel the earthquake a few days ago?" I asked.


    "Yeah. Turns out that earthquakes actually happen in California."


    "They said it''s because of the Moon."


    "Everyone says that everything is because of the Moon."


    "The tides were because of the Moon."


    "Let''s not talk about the Moon anymore. Talk about anything else."


    "I wish that I could go to the beach."


    "The beach? I thought you didn''t like beaches. On our field trip, you literally just sat in the sand and did nothing."


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    "So?" I said, shrugging. "Doesn''t mean I have to go into the water to enjoy the beach."


    "And plus," I added. "We can''t even go to the beach since it''s underwater. And you know why? Because of the Moon and our conversation is back about the Moon again."


    "We can go."


    "Go where? The beach?"


    "Yeah," he said. "Follow me."


    We weaved through the suburban sprawl and large oak trees. There were people with RV''s out and other people were tying boxes to the tops of their rusting cars. I wanted to stop to see, but if I did then Charles would disappear.


    "This is a terrible idea," I said as we reached the caution tape. "Let''s do something that doesn''t involve me dying."


    "No one''s going to die," he said, stepping under the yellow tape. "It''s becoming low tide right now."


    "Don''t you care about your future!" I shouted.


    He turned back towards me. "I''ll care when we actually have a future if things ever get better. But for now, we should live our best lives possible. And that means breaking some rules."


    "Dying isn''t living our best lives. Dying is the end of our lives."


    "We aren''t going to die," he said, walking backwards, facing towards me. "Are you coming or not?"


    Mom and Dad would kill me if they ever found out. "You''re a terrible friend," I said.


    "Is that a yes?"


    "Whatever."


    I walked down the asphalt road and into the tidal zone. The dead looking grass was still damp and there were small salty puddles forming on empty patches of dirt. Skeleton trees lined the avenue, stripped bare of leaves and rotting planks and small items were scattered everywhere.


    "Geez," he said. "The tide really ruined everything."


    "Yeah," I replied. "I don''t know how they''re ever going to rebuild."


    He pointed upwards. A very faint outline of the moon graced the sky. "Bad moon," he said.


    I laughed and we walked down the avenues to the beach. I could hear the waves pounding the shoreline. With all this erosion, will there even be a beach? A seagull squawked and swooped to the ground, picking up something between its beak.


    "What''s the bird holding?" he asked.


    "I don''t know, and I don''t care to find out. What if it''s some child''s finger or something."


    "Well, I want to know."


    He picked up a stone. "Don''t bully the seagull," I said. "That''s, like, animal abuse."


    "Don''t act so high and mighty. You probably broke the law by crossing the tape."


    "We broke the law¡ª not me only."


    "Doesn''t make you any less guilty," he said, kicking a piece of gravel.


    The lawns and bushes were a mess. There were bits and pieces of kelp strewn on decks and porches with chipped shells and broken glass strewn on the asphalt. The road was dark, and the walls of the houses were water stained a deeper hue and the smell of salty air permeated through the air along with the smell of rot.


    "The air stinks," I said. "Maybe we should turn back."


    "C''mon. We''re right next to the beach."


    "Who cares," I said. "Remember, lots of people died over here. What if we see a body?"


    "We''re not going to see anything," he said. "Just trust me."


    "Yeah, whatever. I''m heading back."


    "Chicken."


    "I''m not falling for your peer pressure."


    "Coward."


    "What did you say? I can''t hear you," I said and muffled my ears.


    I walked back down the moist roads. My stomach was churning, and I felt a bit nauseous, like there was a rat rolling in my stomach. I barely got fifty steps before I heard my name being called. "Neal!"


    "What do you want, Charles?"


    "Just come here."


    "What is it?"


    "Just come," he said, and I ran towards him.


    "What do you want?" I said.


    "It''s a..." he said, and I saw it.


    There was a body, bloating and muddied by the rolling waves. There were chunks of skin missing and scratching and bruising on their skin. But the worst thing was the smell, a strong, pungent odor of rotting carcasses with a sickly-sweet undertone. The nausea climbed up my throat, scratching and stinging me, but I forced it down. But Charles couldn''t.


    He vomited into a patch of brownish grass, spitting out bile. "Let''s get out of here," I said. "Let''s go."


    He just nodded and we walked away from the rotting body. We didn''t talk much after, only looking at each other, our glances conveying everything we needed to say. The most we said was a simple goodbye when we separated.


    "How was your day with Charles?" Mira asked.


    "Fine."


    "Where''d you guys go?"


    "Just around town," I said and pushed around some of my food.


    Mira''s eyebrows furrowed. "Is everything alright? Did you guys get into a fight or something?"


    I plastered a smile on my face. "Everything''s fine."


    I''m such a liar.


    June 8


    I had a strange dream last night. I was trapped in a foggy labyrinth, but not the ones with squiggly lines and pathways¡ª every time I ran, I moved nowhere. My feet sank into the damp sand, leaving deep indents in the tan beach, as the rumbling of the waves grew louder.


    I looked down and seafoam curled around my ankles, and I tried running away from the waves, but there was no escape. It was a never-ending maze of mist and grey. When I realized this, that''s when I saw it, the body from yesterday, on the sand as shallow water lapped around it.


    I went closer to it (I''m not even sure why my dream self thought it was a good idea). The harsh rumbling of the ocean seemed to fade away into the background. Deep crimson tendrils surrounded the body like a halo as bits and pieces of torn kelp peppered the body. I could hear a soft sound coming from the body.


    I kneeled down and placed my ear against its mouth. There was a gurgling sound coming from the body, an endless bubbling.


    There was a loud cough, spewing water onto my ear. I leapt backwards, falling with my back on the sand as the shallow waves swept me up, covering my whole body. There was nothing but dark blue in my vision.

 Chapter 4, Part 3

    June 10


    No nightmare last night. I''m worried about tonight.


    Mom and Dad are officially jobless right now. They''re calling it their early retirement to spend more time with their kids. May says Mom and Dad have to keep working, so she can buy clothes from expensive brands. I want them at work to have some free time. "Neal, you need to find some summer job," Dad said. "Colleges are looking for people who spend their summers productively."


    "Same with you, May," he said. "You better get working."


    "It''s not like I can do anything," she said. "I''m literally fourteen. Don''t you have to be like sixteen to get an actual job."


    "Just find something," he said.


    "Yeah, whatever," she said.


    "Sure," I said.


    "Neal," he said. "I really mean it. College is coming soon¡ª"


    "College is literally in two years," I said. "Not like there is any college to go to. Didn''t you hear, the world''s ending."


    "The world is going to get better."


    "No, Dad," I said. "After what you saw that night, you actually think everything''s going to be alright."


    "Yes, I do."


    "You''re delusional. Like, actually delusional."


    "Don''t talk to me like that. Show a bit more respect!"


    "Yeah, I''ll totally look for a job, alright," I said and headed to my room.


    "You better or you''ll be in big trouble."


    "Yeah, whatever. It''s not like you can take my internet away cause guess what, we don''t have power and we''ll probably never get it back."


    The power then flickered on. "Power!" May shouted. "Took the world long enough."


    Everyone moved into action, and no one kept on bickering. Mom and Mira tossed the dirty clothes hanging in the laundry basket into the washer, May turned on the vacuum cleaner to start cleaning up the dirty floor, and Dad went out to check if the power was on for the whole neighborhood.


    I opened up one of the cabinets and found one of those old ice dishes. I poured some water from the sink into the ice cube mold, though there was a small spill, and dumped it in the freezer. Then I tried the TV, but nothing. I logged onto my computer and tried the internet. Nothing. I guess the internet servers ran out of power and just died.


    The power faded away a couple of hours later. May poured some of the powdered lemonade mixture into a pitcher and added water. I took out the ice cubes and dumped them into everyone''s glasses. They were half-frozen only, but it''ll be a nice reprieve against the heat.


    I miss the AC.


    <div>


    June 11


    We went together to the food handout drive near city hall. There were armed police officers standing around and guarding the line. After what happened last week, I guess the city invested more in armed protection. We had to bring our proof of residence form too because people from other towns might start coming to our town to take our food.


    "Remember to stick together," Mom said. "If anything starts to go bad, we''re going to leave immediately, so I need everyone to stay close to each other."


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    "Where has Dad gone to?" I asked.


    "He went to the post office to send a letter to Auntie," Mira said.


    "But there''s no gasoline or anything. How is that supposed to work?"


    "Just let your father do what he believes is best," Mom said. "Having some hope will be good for him."


    I didn''t think my aunt and her family are in any danger. They live around Central Texas, which is far away from water. I wondered if they still have power since Texas is full of oil drills and refineries. I wished the internet still worked, so I could look that up.


    "What about Grandma and Grandpa?" I asked.


    "Their senior shelter has backup generators and free food, and the government is keeping a close eye on them, so they''re all set," Mom said.


    "Why can''t we all just live there?" I asked.


    "Because it''s for old people, dummy," May said.


    "I''m old," I said. "Older than you."


    May stayed silent. "Yeah," I said. "That''s what I thought. No response."


    "Hey," Mira said. "I''m older than both of you guys. I should get first priority in the senior center."


    "Shh," I said. "I''m going to pretend that you don''t exist."


    "Okay," Mira said. "I''m a ghost now."


    We all laughed and then focused back onto waiting in the line.


    The sun was climbing up the sky and scorching us with its rays. It was probably over ninety degrees. Most of the time, the weather in early June is mildly warm, but this time around, I could feel the pre-summer heat roasting me alive. This is why we need to stop climate change (and yes, I know the difference between climate and weather).


    There were people passing out small paper cups of water. "It''s so hot," Mira said.


    "Suck it up," I said. "Isn''t that what you tell everyone?"


    "Yeah, whatever," she replied.


    "Why don''t you and May go sit in the shade," Mira said. "Mom and I will wait in line."


    "Are you sure?" I asked.


    "Go for it," she said. "I don''t want my little brother to die from heatstroke."


    I felt bad, but it was hot, so I took her offer. May and I sat under one of those redwood trees that dot the park near the city hall. Wasps flitted across rusting fields of grass, and the line stretched out for longer and longer.


    "I''m bored," I said.


    "Aren''t we all?" she said. "My brain is literally going to explode because it''s so hot right now."


    "How close are we even to getting the food?"


    "We''re over here," she said and pointed to the middle of the line. "And that''s where you actually get your food." She pointed far away from where Mom and Mira were standing.


    "So we''re going to be stuck here for the rest of the day," I said.


    "Basically."


    I sighed. "We should do something."


    "What?"


    "Anything," I said. "I don''t know."


    "There''s literally nothing to do."


    "Is this what the apocalypse is going to be like?"


    "I guess so."


    We sat in the shade for the rest of the afternoon, watching people trickling into the building and walking out with some bags of food. After what felt like forever, Mira finally called us to wait in line since they were almost at the front. When we entered, there was a metal detector and armed guards doing pat-downs. I''m not sure how they''re powering the metal detectors. Solar panels perhaps?


    We had to submit all our paperwork for review. Dad wasn''t here with us, and Mom wanted us to get a bag of food for him, so it took a lot longer. Finally, after waiting at the desk forever, we got a bag of food and were escorted out of the building. As soon as we left, May opened her bag to see what she got.


    "Spam?" she said. "That''s disgusting. What if I was a vegetarian?"


    "May. Close your bag. We don''t want to attract any attention," Mira said.


    "Yes mother," May said sarcastically. "Anything else you want me to do."


    "Show a little more respect for your older sister," Mom said.


    "Okay," May said. "Whatever you say."


    "Do we actually have to eat the spam though?" I asked.


    "Yes," Mom replied. "We''re going to eat everything."


    "But I just hate the idea of eating canned meat."


    "We''re just going to have to deal with it," Mira said.


    "But the world''s not actually going to end," May said. "Everything will get back to normal."


    "We have to be prepared," Mom and Mira said at the same time and they smiled at each other.


    I don''t know why, but this made me feel good because even when the world is decaying around up, washing into the ocean, Mom and Mira are talking to each other more. I wish that Dad would just get along.


    Dad met us at home and asked how everything went, and we told him that nothing special or particularly exciting happened and that we were going next week to grab our food. May and I grabbed out the canned foods from our bags. My bag had mixed vegetables, beets, and carrots. Gross.


    May and Mira had better luck with their canned foods. They got canned corn and string beans (but still got gross stuff like tuna and spam). I asked if I could trade my can of pineapple for their string beans and corn, but Dad broke up our bartering and said that we were going to share everything and told me to put our canned goods into our pantry. The joys of communism...


    This was the first time I looked into the pantry since the day after. It was fuller than I expected. The shelves were bursting with cans and with the plants in the garden and solar panels, I think we''re prepared for anything.

 Chapter 5, Part 1

    June 12


    The nightmares are getting worse. I was plunged into the same scenario, fog surrounding me as my feet sunk into the sand. But this time it was different.


    I saw a small shadow pass overhead and the shriek of a seagull. And then the bodies appeared from the mist, five of them lying on the ground, seafoam swirling around their clothes and hair. A seagull landed on one of them, picking out a small chunk of flesh before flying away.


    I''m not sure why, but I began to walk towards the collection of bodies. There was a torn piece of purple cloth floating on the turquoise sea. I tried grabbing it, but the waves carried it into the mist, and I stumbled forwards.


    That''s when I saw it. Mom in her floral dress, Dad with his clunky glasses and striped shirts, May with her oversized sweatshirt, Mira with her conch necklace, and Charles with his thick sunglasses just lying there rotting away. Their bodies were covered in green slime, scraps of kelp dotting cloth, barnacles clinging to skin with stark white ribs sticking out from their bodies.


    I gasped, bringing my hands to my face only to discover that I had become green and slimy, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the sea. I had become one of them.


    A seagull swooped down picking a bit of flesh from my shoulder and I scampered away, tumbling in the wet sand. More and more and more crowded me, pushing me into the ocean. I suddenly woke up sweaty and sore.


    Mom went out into the garden to try to grow the plants that we bought from the nursery. Her parents were farmers, but I think that their green thumbs may have skipped a generation. I think this is the first time that I''ve ever seen her in a garden.


    She also ordered Mira and May to wash the laundry since our dirty laundry was piling up in the hamper and no one seemed to want to clean it. Mira and May said that it was sexist. I agreed with them, but I didn''t want to do the laundry, so I just stayed quiet. Unfortunately, that didn''t stop me from being dragged into chores. Mom made me wash and dry the dishes. She could be really bossy sometimes.


    Dad took the van and went into town today to see if anything was even open. Mom reminded him to gas up the car. I think gasoline prices would start reaching the high twenties per gallon. California doesn''t produce much oil, so we''d have to take it from Texas or some other state and that''d be pretty costly.


    When he came back, everyone started to ask him questions. Even though we went to town yesterday, we didn''t get to see much around it. "Is anything open?" Mom asked.


    "Nothing much," Dad said. "Just some clothing stores and school supply stuff."


    "What about gas?" Mom asked.


    "It''s around twenty to thirty dollars per gallon," Dad said. "And they only accept cash. We''ve only got one-hundred dollars in cash left and I checked the ATM machines. They''re not working."


    "Then we don''t use gas," Mom said. "No more taking the car out to places, and it''s only for emergencies."


    "What clothing stores?" May asked, jumping into the conversation.


    "Just some old thrift shops. Nothing you''ll like," Dad said.


    "Well, I need a new outfit. Clara''s birthday party is tomorrow," May replied.


    "You''re not going to someone''s birthday party. It''s dangerous."


    "It''s literally two blocks down," May said. "I''m not going to get abducted or whatever."


    "Let May have a break," Mom said. "She''s been working all day."


    She then turned to May. "No new outfit though. And you''re going to have to bike there with your brother."


    ''What?" I said. "I don''t want to go to her party."


    "Exactly," May said. "I can take care of myself."


    "With gasoline running out, the police might not be able to protect us anymore," Mom said. "So two people biking down a street when it''s getting dark is much safer than one person by themselves."


    "Or we''ll both get abducted," May muttered. "A two for one deal."


    "Why can''t Mira take her instead?" I asked.


    "Mira is going to help me with the garden tomorrow," Mom said.


    "Neal can go help you with the garden," May replied.


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    "I don''t want to work in the garden," I said.


    "Then you''re going to take May to her party," she said.


    "Fine, whatever."


    "See," Mom said. "All problems solved."


    I don''t think anyone was too happy about this arrangement. But no one wanted to argue with the delicate peace Mom wove, so everyone went to their own rooms to go to sleep after eating some lukewarm string beans and rice.


    June 13


    Mom pulled out an old SAT book and said that if I didn''t want to get a summer job, I should at least start practicing for the standardized testing. So I wasted my whole morning studying grammar and reading techniques. Boring!


    I managed to find the hand-cranked radio. I totally forgot about it. I gave it a few cranks and tried to find a radio station to listen to, but it was mostly static. All the local music stations had gone radio silent (literally), so I decided to hear the news stations.


    There were only two of them. The government one kept listing out names. "Sam Hunter, Alicia Xiao, Arnav Gupta..." they droned on and on. I think it''s the list of the dead or missing. I wondered if the person on the beach was on it, but I didn''t want to know, so I changed to the other station.


    The other new station was extremely faint. The staticky murmur of the radio overpowered the voice, but you could hear a faint, deep voice speaking. Unfortunately, I was only able to hear fragments of the radio since the static grew and dimmed throughout the morning.


    There was some news about NYC. I think that it''s uninhabitable or at least some sort of it. Lawmakers in D.C have passed emergency relief bills for all the coastal states, but no one is sure what to do afterwards. Some people want to build sea walls to protect the seaside communities. Others want to do a managed retreat. Climate change is also a concern since sea levels are just going to keep rising. Especially with California since people are worried that there will be saltwater intrusion in the Central Valley.


    Grandma and Grandpa came to our house today. I think they walked over here since Mom is trying to save gasoline. They spent a lot of time in the garden with Mom and Mira to try to fix up all the plants that we bought. Our soil is of pretty terrible quality. There''s a corner in our garden where the soil is dark and rich, but the rest is dry and cracked. Dad had to take out the large shovel and try to bash the soil to soften it. I''m not sure if it worked.


    In the afternoon, I had to take May to her birthday party.


    "How much longer are you going to take?" I asked when she was still getting ready.


    "Literally don''t rush me," she said. "Otherwise you''re going to mess up my hair."


    "You know if you use the hair curler, then everyone will know that we have electricity."


    "No one cares if we have electricity or not. I''m pretty sure that everyone has generators or solar panels."


    "Just hurry up already."


    "Give me five more minutes and I''ll be down, okay?"


    It took at least ten minutes before May actually came downstairs. "Bike or walk?" I asked her.


    "Walk," she said. "Biking will mess up my hair."


    "Okay. Whatever you want," I said.


    We walked down the street to her friend''s house. It was around the middle of the afternoon, so the sun was beating down on us. If we had biked there, it would''ve been a lot faster, and we wouldn''t be all sweaty.


    "I''m not staying at your party," I said. "That''s just going to be really awkward for everyone."


    "Good," she replied.


    "Remember," I said. "No drugs, no smoking, no alcohol. Other than that, do whatever you want. When the sun sets, I''ll be back at this house."


    "Where are you going?" she asked.


    "To Charles'' house," I replied.


    "Okay," she said.


    I walked a couple of steps before yelling back, "Bring me some cake!"


    I didn''t think she heard me, or she did and chose to ignore me. I walked a couple blocks down to his house. I hoped he was free this afternoon. Everything seems so boring with power being out, so there''s literally nothing to do. Plus, I finished all my library books, but I can''t go back because Mira will find out about the computer things and she''ll either get sad or angry at me.


    I knocked at the door of their house. There was a lot of shuffling in the house and some muffled yelling before the lock opened and Charles walked out. He looked tired.


    "Is this a bad time?" I asked.


    "No, no," he said. "We were just sorting some stuff inside. You want to take a walk around the neighborhood?"


    "Sure," I replied, and he yelled at his parents that he''ll be back soon, and we began walking along the sidewalk.


    "Do you want to talk about, you know..." I said.


    "The dead body," he said.


    "Yeah, that."


    "What''s there to talk about?"


    "Well, I''ve been dr¡ª" I said, but then I stopped. I wanted to tell him about the nightmares, the dead bodies littering my dreams, but I couldn''t. I don''t know why. I guess I was just afraid of being judged or being vulnerable.


    "You''ve been, what?" he asked.


    "Oh, you know what," I said. "Never mind. I just never imagined that this would happen to our town."


    "Yeah," he said. "I''m never getting into the ocean again."


    He wanted to play it off like a joke, but there was a hint of something in his eyes. Sadness, maybe even a bit of fear. I think he was just as affected about the body as I was.


    "So what are you doing this summer?" I asked, trying to change the subject that I brought up.


    "Nothing much," he replied sheepishly.


    "I thought you had the internship stuff going on."


    "Well, with all of this stuff going on, and the power being out for basically all of California, I guess there''s no opportunity to really, you know, intern. I''m thinking of getting a summer job."


    "Tell me about it if you get one. My parents have been bugging me about getting one since forever."


    "Why would I want to spend all day working with my friend?" he asked rhetorically.


    "Well, you know, I''ll entertain you while you''re slogging through work as your soul slowly gets crushed."


    "Tell me a joke."


    "Like, any joke," I replied.


    "Yeah," he said.


    "What type of cow has no legs?"


    "Ground beef," he said. "I''ve heard this joke a thousand times in elementary school."


    "Remember the good old days of elementary school, where we colored pictures and did nothing."


    "Don''t forget all the creative stories that we had to write."


    "Or the ''essays'' that our teachers graded. Those were the good times," I said.


    "We sound like two old men reminiscing about the past."


    "Elementary school felt like forever ago."


    I picked up May afterwards. She said that she had a good time there even though there wasn''t any cake. But I wasn''t really thinking about whatever she was talking about.


    What he said resonated with me. Is the world going to change so much that we''ll be reminiscing about the days of electricity or hot water? I hope not.

 Chapter 5, Part 2

    June 14


    I messed up bad. I wish I could disappear.


    After Mira finished gardening out in our backyard, she went inside to take a break during the afternoon. "What''s up little brother?"


    "Nothing much," I replied. "I''m pretty bored right now. There''s nothing to do."


    "You could help me with the garden. There are lots of plants that need to be de-potted and planted and a whole bunch of other stuff."


    "No thanks. I''d prefer to stay here and be bored."


    "What about the books from the library? Did you finish them all?"


    My heart began to race. For a second, I thought that it might be a good idea to tell her about the computers in the library. Maybe it''ll give her a sense of peace. I know she''s been struggling with just not knowing. But then I thought that it was too late to tell her, so what she doesn''t know won''t hurt her. Big mistake.


    "I''m not in the mood to read right now."


    "It''s probably because all the books you''ve chosen are so boring," she said. "We should go to the library to get some new ones."


    "We?" I asked.


    "Yeah," she said. "You and me. Bro and sis walking around and doing normal people stuff."


    "I thought you hated reading."


    "Well, you know, we have to make sacrifices for our siblings. And also, Mom wants some books about gardening and foraging."


    "The library is literally going to close tomorrow. It''s going to be pointless to check out books for just one day."


    "We can just take pictures of the pages in those books, and we''ve got the solar panels and batteries, so we can power up the printer and begin printing out all those photos."


    "I don''t know about all of this."


    "Did something happen to you at the library?" she asked. "You seem like you don''t want to go."


    "Nothing. I don''t know. I''m just not in the mood to go out."


    "Well you better change your mood," she announced. "Because we are going to the library tomorrow."


    If there was a time machine, I''d hop into it right now or maybe if I could stop time, so that tomorrow will never come. Hopefully, she has spontaneous amnesia and forgets our whole conversation. I wish I had just come clean with the truth.


    June 15


    I''ve ruined everything.


    I''m such an idiot. Mom and Dad are fighting. I don''t think Mira will ever talk to me again if I even see her again. May is pretending to be confused, but I think she knows what happened.


    I wish the ocean would swallow me up.


    June 16


    Here''s what happened yesterday.


    Mira forced me to go to the library. I tried my best to stall since the library would''ve closed the next day and she wouldn''t have found out about my lies. I pretended to sleep in till around noon, but then Mom woke me up because it was lunch time.


    Mira wanted to go to the library afterwards since walking a bit after eating is supposed to be good, but I told her that it was too hot to walk outside and we might risk heatstroke, so we should wait until it gets cooler. It was around five in the afternoon when she had enough with the waiting.


    "We''re going to the library," she said.


    "I''m not feeling well enough to go," I said.


    "You look perfectly fine," she said and put a hand to my forehead. "You don''t even have a fever."


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    "Can''t you take May or someone else to the library," I said. If the inevitable was going to happen, I didn''t want to look into her eyes and tell her that I lied to her for a long time.


    I tried practicing telling her the truth, reciting the words out in my bedroom. But I just couldn''t do it and by then, it felt like it was too late. "May is barely talking with me," she said. "Probably because I stole her room from her."


    "Perfect," I said. "It''ll be a great sister to sister bonding time. One on one session to solve your problems."


    "Right now I want to hang out with my little brother. Haven''t you always wanted me to go to the library with you?"


    "Well just not today," I blurted out.


    Her eyes narrowed. "Well why not?"


    "Because..." I said. "Just because..."


    "Are you hiding something from me?"


    "No, nothing," I said. "Let me get dressed and get ready."


    "Okay," she said, smiling uneasily. "If you''re not out in five minutes, I''m going to break in and drag you out."


    I took the whole five minutes and heard a knocking at the door. "What''s taking you so long?"


    "Just one more minute," I yelled back and slowly put on a pair of pants while praying that the library closes before we get there.


    After that, we walked to the library. It was very awkward. I tried to tell her the truth again and come clean. But I was too scared, too cowardly. I was just procrastinating my troubles away until they became worse and worse and worse.


    So I tried my best to waste time. I pointed out every little detail: the birds, the trees, the weather, dangerous conditions, sidetracks. But Mira wanted to get to the library quickly since she thought that I wanted to go to the library. So by the time we got there, the library was still open and there was a massive line of people waiting, snaking around the building.


    "That''s a lot of people waiting for books," she said.


    "Maybe we should head back," I suggested. "Come back another day."


    "But the library is closing tomorrow," she said.


    "How do you know that?"


    "The sign literally says that," she said, pointing to the library closing signs pasted everywhere.


    "The library is losing electricity tomorrow and they''ve developed a system to keep track of books without the computers, so it''ll probably just stay open even though the signs say that it''s closing."


    "Then why is everyone waiting in the lines?"


    "I don''t know. Maybe people want the AC. People are weird sometimes."


    "I don''t think it''s that," she said. "I''m going to check it out. You can head back now and tell Mom that I''m at the library."


    I should''ve headed back, so I wouldn''t have to directly face her when she found out that I had been lying to her. But I didn''t head back and followed her towards the library. I tried tripping myself, falling down, and spraining my ankle, but I couldn''t force my body to do that. "C''mon let''s go back," I said.


    She didn''t listen to me and asked a person in the line about what they were waiting for. "It''s for the computers," he said. "They''ve got the lists for the dead and missing."


    Mira turned to me. "Did you know about this?"


    I responded with silence. "Neal, Did you know about this?" she asked again.


    There was an awkward silence between us. All of my lies crumbled like a teetering sandcastle. "Why didn''t you tell me about this?" she said. "I could''ve found out if Leon was alright. I could''ve known. Do you know how much this worry is eating into me?"


    I looked down in shame. "I thought it was better not to tell you."


    "You thought it was better for me not to know," she said and sputtered. "You don''t get to choose what''s good and what''s not good for me. Especially with this information."


    "I was worried, okay," I said in a louder voice. "You were sad about your boyfriend. If you saw that he was dead, then I was worried that you were going to break down."


    "I can handle my own emotions. I''m not going to spontaneously break down," she retorted. "You should''ve told me about this."


    "It''s not like you''re even going to be able to do anything with it," I shouted. "What? If you see he''s dead or alive, what are you going to do?"


    "You should''ve told me," she yelled. "It''s none of your business to hold information back from me. I had a right to know."


    "You want to know why I didn''t tell you earlier," I said. "Because I was afraid you were going to get mad at me."


    "Then, why''d you lie to me?" she asked. "Why? We used to share secrets when we were younger. Just you and me."


    "Well I''m not like that anymore. You don''t know me as well as you think you do."


    I''m still a liar even when I''m trying to tell the truth. I''ve always kept secrets and lies, not just right now but even when I was younger. Mira just never saw that part of me.


    I ran home after that while Mira waited in line. I think the library closed or lost power while she was in line because this morning she just left. There was a note on the counter. She said that she had to know about her boyfriend''s condition.


    Dad freaked out. Even though Mira was an adult and in college, he was still apprehensive about the secret boyfriend. Mom and May are both wondering why Mira left so suddenly. I know that truth. I''m the one that did it. But I''m too cowardly to say it to everyone.


    I guess I just don''t want to be blamed.


    June 17


    Mira is still gone.


    Mom is alternating between panic and eerie calmness. She''s been trying to phone Mira all day, but May and I keep telling her that cellular data isn''t working and there''s no internet anywhere.


    The car only had around a hundred miles worth of gasoline. Her university was forty miles away from here. She wanted to keep a solid distance between our family and her college life, otherwise Mom and Dad might''ve stalked her to college. Sometimes they can be a little too overprotective.


    My little secret is boring a hole through me. I wish I had someone to just confess that I was the reason Mira had left. I would never tell either Mom or Dad because they might start to ask other questions or get angry. Also, probably not Charles because it''s awkward to drag your friends into family drama.


    There were a few tremors today, including a large one early in the morning that jolted the house. No one knows exactly what''s causing all these tremors. It''s probably the Moon.


    Everything''s easier when you can blame the Moon for everything.

 Chapter 5, Part 3

    June 18


    Charles came to my house today. He knocked on the door sometime in the morning. I must have looked sad or angry because the first thing he asked was, "Is this a good time?"


    "Yeah," I said and yawned. "What''s up?"


    "You look tired. Maybe I should tell you later."


    "Tell me what?" I asked, now more awake.


    "Well you were wondering about getting a job," he said. "Well I''ve found something for the both of us."


    He pulled out a flyer. I looked at it. "Gardening?" I said. "At the community garden?"


    "It''ll be fun," he said. "With all the bees and bugs and everything gross."


    "You know you''re disgusting," I said.


    "The great outdoors is great," he replied.


    "And you never considered becoming a park ranger because..." I said.


    "I hate going outdoors¡ª"


    "But you literally said¡ª"


    "I was just joking," he said. "Still want to do computer engineering."


    "What computers? Do you think the world is going to get better?"


    "I hope so," he said. "I miss watching anime."


    "I miss the internet," I replied.


    "If we tried to list everything that we missed, we''d probably die before we get to the end."


    "Yeah," I said. "When does this job-slash-volunteering thing start?"


    "Next week," he said. "It''s from two to three pm on Wednesdays and Fridays."


    "Okay," I said. "I''ll see you there."


    He left afterwards. I told Mom and Dad about the job, but the best response they could muster up was a weak "Good job" before they kept on worrying about Mira. The only time that she wasn''t worrying about Mira was when we went to get the food. Then she went back to worrying about Mira. I wish she would come back home already.


    June 20


    Mira is back.


    She came sometime in the afternoon. Mom heard the rumble of the engine (sometimes, she has great hearing) and ran outside to greet Mira. The first thing she said was, "Don''t ever do that to me again."


    The second was, "I''m glad that you''re back."


    Mira had to unwrap herself from Mom. "Geez Mom. You don''t need to overreact like that. I was gone for like five days only."


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    "Five days are five too many," Mom said. "And with everything that is going on, it can get dangerous out there."


    Dad stepped into the conversation. "Mira, what you did was reckless and dangerous. Do you know how worried we were?"


    "I''m an adult," she said. "I can go wherever I want without telling you. I''m not a little kid anymore."


    "All for a boyfriend." Dad scoffed. "A college boyfriend that you never told us about that you just abandoned us for."


    "First of all, I didn''t abandon you guys. I left a note on the kitchen counter. Second, I never told you guys because I knew that this is exactly how you guys would react. Third of all, guess what I brought you guys."


    She opened the trunk. There were boxes with jams and pickles bobbing in clear glass jars. "Leon and his family have a farm up on the mountains and they''re a big fan of off the grid living."


    "We''re not a charity case," Dad said, all stubborn. "We''ve got enough food."


    "No," Mom said. "We''re not going to return the food. The more food the better. Now you better start unloading the van."


    Mom and Dad unloaded the van while May and I pretended to disappear, so we wouldn''t have to do any work. I looked into the boxes of food. There was everything; canned peaches, syrupy strawberries, pickled green cucumbers, rich tomato paste. Grandma could probably make a feast out of it. I felt a tap on my shoulder when I was looking at the jars. It was Mira. "Can we talk?" she asked.


    "Uh, sure," I replied. "So, how was your trip?"


    "Fine," she said. "You know, the usual, rolling hills and other stuff." We sat there in silence after that for one excruciating minute.


    "I feel like you wanted to talk with me about something more important," I said.


    "Yeah," she said.


    "Look, I''m sorry, okay," I said. "I''m sorry for doing that to you."


    "Thanks," she said. "But I feel like we need to stop the lying. Please, no more secrets between us¡ª just like when we''re younger."


    I looked at her before staring at the ground before my eyes finally settled at the wall behind her. "I can''t promise that," I whispered.


    "Why not?" she asked.


    "Because I just don''t like when people know my secrets. I just feel too vulnerable," I wanted to say, but instead, I said, "I just can''t."


    She sighed. "Just try not to keep the important stuff away."


    "Okay," I said and changed the subject. "Is he coming down? You know, Leon, to meet us."


    "I''m not sure we''re ready yet," she said.


    "You guys seem pretty serious."


    "Yeah, I guess we are," she said.


    "So Leon," I added. "Pretty strange name, isn''t it"


    "Not really. His mother named him after her favorite actor in that TV show. I''m forgetting the name."


    "I have no idea what you''re talking about."


    "The one with those people. Oh you know what, never mind."


    "Still have no idea what you''re talking about."


    "I give up," she said.


    Mom and Dad fixed a big meal for Mira''s return. We got some stir fried noodles with bits of pork and canned corn while Dad made some canned okra and potatoes. For dessert, we had a piece of chocolate though I noticed that May took two pieces. I didn''t tell Mom and Dad. Let today stay as a happy day.


    June 21


    "You guys need to do something other than laying around all day," Mom said.


    "But there is literally nothing to do," May said. "Nothing at all."


    "Pick a hobby and do it," Mom said. "Didn''t you like photography in middle school? Go and take some photos."


    "But Dad isn''t doing anything."


    "Your Dad is meeting with other people in our neighborhood. They''re discussing what they would do with the houses close to the water and other important items. So I better see you with Dad''s camera tonight unless you have a better idea."


    "Fine," Mira said. "So annoying."


    "And Neal," Mom said. "What do you want to do?"


    "Didn''t I literally tell you that I got a job?"


    "Oh, yeah," Mom said. "How long is it?"


    "Two to three on Wednesdays and Fridays."


    "That''s not a lot of time," Mom said. "You better find something else to do and not waste time."


    "Yeah, whatever," I said.


    "Colleges like that," she said. "And that''s important."


    "Not like they even exist," I wanted to retort back, but I kept that to myself.


    But she had me thinking, do colleges and universities still exist? What is the world outside of our neighborhood? My world after the Mooncrash had been confined by the rolling waves and the border of houses by the end of the town. Who knows what''s out there? What happened with all the other places? I want to ask Mira, but everything is too awkward between us.


    My job-slash-volunteering thing is starting tomorrow. I feel like I''m going to regret making this decision.

 Chapter 5, Part 4

    June 22


    You know how people say that their first job is "super cool" and "tons of fun". Actually, I don''t think anyone sane has said that. My job is boring!


    I met up with Charles at the community gardening area about five to ten blocks away from home. There were only twenty people there, and there was a man that was directing everything with a clipboard and was yelling out instructions. We had two options: work on building the greenhouses or tend the vegetable gardens outside. I''m not good at building things, so I chose the vegetable gardens.


    There were much less people doing the vegetable gardens compared to the greenhouse construction, and that''s alright. The person in charge told us that we were going to be divided up into three different sections: weeders, insect slayers, and builders for the fences and other contraptions in the garden.


    Charles chose to be a weeder, and I followed along. I hate insects and building things is just bad. We were given certain instructions when dealing with weeds. Pull the whole plant out, including the roots, don''t pull out clovers, watch out for thistles, and have fun. I wasn''t sure how I was supposed to have fun. Picking weeds seemed boring and turned out to be very boring.


    "How are you liking the job?" Charles asked.


    "Are we getting paid?"


    "Surprisingly, yes," he said. "Each person gets about 2% of what the garden produces."


    "So we''re working for a couple of vegetables," I said.


    "Yeah, basically," he said. "Things seem like they''re going to get much worse."


    "I don''t know how it could get any worse," I joked and then added in a more serious tone. "What do you mean?"


    "Haven''t you been listening to the radio," he said.


    "No, my hand cranked one is super staticky and we don''t have a proper battery operated one."


    "The scientists are hearing rumbling from the volcanoes up north all across the Cascade Range. Some of the more active ones are already steaming and there have been tremors around the dormant ones."


    "That sounds bad," I said. "Do they think that the volcanoes are going to erupt?"


    "No one knows anything at this point," he said.


    We stopped talking for a while after that. I can''t imagine the situation getting any worse than it already is. A couple of volcanoes erupting doesn''t seem like a big deal, but I remember in our plate tectonics unit, we talked about how one volcanic eruption led to a globe wide winter. I hope that doesn''t happen.


    After a while, we began to talk about stuff. Nothing too serious: high school, random politics, video games¡ª mostly to pass the time. "I agree with you," Charles said. "This job sucks."


    I chuckled. "Welcome to the beginning of the rest of our lives."


    "You don''t think that everything''s going to get better?"


    "I''m not sure," I replied.


    Charles added," Do you want things to get better? For everything to return to the way it was before."


    "I don''t know," I replied. "I just don''t know."


    June 24


    Mom has gone crazy.


    I was in the middle of studying for the SATs even though we can''t register because power is still out. I wonder if we''re ever getting it back. May was sitting next to me trying to make her old camera work and Mira was in the room next to me, resting after fixing up the garden. She and Grandma have been adding barriers around the tomato plants so that they don''t get eaten by the rabbits.


    All of a sudden, Mom just barged in. "We''re going hiking tomorrow," she announced.


    "What?!" May and I said at the same time.


    "Did you not hear me," Mom said. "We''re going hiking! Aren''t you guys excited."


    "I''ve got my thing tomorrow," I said.


    "I have to do my camera thing," May added.


    "Your work is in the afternoon, so we''ll hike in the morning, and it''ll be a good time to practice your camera skills, May."


    Mira walked into the room. "What''s going on?" she asked.


    "Mom is high right now and is forcing us to hike during the apocalypse," May said.


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    "You know, everyone has been talking about the world ending and the apocalypse, so I think it''s a great idea to have my kids go out and see some of our local beauties."


    "I agree with Mom," Mira said. "It''s a good idea to have all of us out together. We should have some quality family time."


    I cringed on the inside while hearing this. I didn''t think Mira ever wanted to have quality time with the whole family. She and Dad would just start arguing. I can see that she''s trying to mend her relationship with us. But hiking is not the way we''re going to do it.


    May looked at Mira. "I hate you."


    Mira looked genuinely hurt. "She doesn''t mean that," I quickly added. "It''s the teenage hormones."


    "I do mean it," May insisted.


    "Yeah, whatever," I replied. "Just ignore her."


    But Mira had already walked away. She stayed in the garden for the rest of the day and when she came for dinner, she ate her baked beans and went to her bedroom. I knocked on the door.


    "Come in," she said.


    "What''s wrong?" I asked.


    "May hates me," she said. "And it''s like every time I try to make things better with Mom and Dad and I just seem to make things worse with you and May."


    "May doesn''t really hate you," I said. "And you and Dad aren''t arguing about ''questionable life choices'' anymore, so that''s a positive."


    "She''s changed a lot," Mira said.


    "Everyone has changed a lot."


    "Yeah, but she''s changed the most. I can''t believe that kid in middle school became like this."


    "She isn''t all bad," I said. "I mean she can be nice if she wants to, and we talk too. It''s just that she has some certain negative viewpoints about you that Mom and Dad may or may not have put into her brain."


    "Okay. Spill the beans."


    "She thinks you''re a druggie."


    "A druggie." Mira laughed. "Now that''s a first."


    "You know, you just have to talk with her and stop always siding with Mom and Dad on everything, especially if May hates whatever they want her to do because Mom will definitely forgive you faster than May will."


    "Any other pieces of advice?"


    "Just try," I said. "Talk about anything. Complain about anything. I don''t know. Just do it."


    "Thanks," Mira said.


    "No problem," I said. "Be ready for the hike tomorrow. It''s all your fault that we''re doing it."


    June 25


    The hike today actually wasn''t all that bad. The weather this morning was pleasant, and I wasn''t shivering the whole walk to the beginning of the trail. It''s around five miles away from our house, so it took us roughly an hour and a half to get there.


    There were quite a few people hiking up the trail this morning. I guess with the world never becoming what it used to be before or possibly ending, it would be a good time to start seeing the small wonders around town before you kick the bucket. May complained the whole way to the trail. "I''m so tired. It''s so hot. It''s too cold out here. My legs hurt."


    After a while, I turned towards her. "Suck it up," I told her.


    "Hey," she said. "Only I''m allowed to say that."


    "Hypocrite," I said. "You''re an actual hypocrite."


    "Does it look like I care?"


    "Whatever," I said.


    "That''s what I thought," she said.


    We started our hike up the mountain when the sun was a couple of inches above the rolling hills. May complained that her legs were too tired to walk, so Mom and Dad decided to walk slower with her while Mira and I went ahead. There was a good ten minutes of awkward silence before I broke it. "How was the world outside?"


    "What are you talking about?" she asked.


    "You know, when you left town, what did you see?"


    "I saw a lot of things," she said. "Anything you want to know in particular?"


    "Is there power anywhere?"


    "Only a couple of places still had power: the hospitals, police and firefighter stations, places with back-up generators."


    "What about schools?" I asked. "Or colleges."


    "Most of them are closed down. The college that I went to is partially flooded."


    And for some reason, I breathed out a sigh of relief. I''m not sure why I''d feel such relief or even some joy that the colleges are flooded. I guess it''s because, I don''t know, I''m scared of the future or something. Mira looked at me. "Is something wrong?"


    "No, nothing really," I said. "Just thinking about something, so what were you saying?"


    "To help all the coastal places that got flooded, they''re trying to build sea walls. But the main concern for the government would be helping the people in the big cities, especially in Southern California."


    "I heard there was a lot of flooding there."


    "Yeah," she said. "And a complete lack of water. Those cities are surrounded by desert."


    "Do you think we''re going to get power back soon?"


    "Maybe," she said. "I saw builders installing solar panels and wind turbines."


    "Go green energy."


    She laughed. "They''re probably building oil power plants too, so don''t get your hopes up. California still has a lot of those oil rigs."


    We walked for a bit before reaching the top of the hill. The sun was high in the sky, and there was good visibility, so we were able to look down upon our city. I could be the waves slowly receding to the horizon, revealing the ruined neighborhoods. "It''s beautiful," Mira said.


    "Yeah," I said. "Do you think that we''ll be able to fix the houses near the old beach?"


    "It''s going to be too expensive. It''s better to let them go."


    "I thought you said that the government is working on fixing up the coasts."


    "They are," she replied. "It''s just that it might not be worth the effort to fix up those houses. Eventually, the sea will take anything that is built over there no matter how well built it is."


    "Plus," she added. "We''ll have a beach in our backyard."


    "Charles already told me about that."


    "Dang it! I was trying to be original."


    After going to the top of the hill, we climbed down and met Mom, Dad, and May around the midpoint. Mira told them about the beautiful sights, but I told them that I had to go to my thing and that they can always hike up by themselves.


    While we were weeding plants in the garden, Charles asked," Did you hear about the fair?"


    "There''s a fair?"


    "Yeah," he said. "I thought you knew everything that is going around in town."


    "Nope. I had no idea."


    "Well, the town is holding a sort of flea market in the city plaza this Sunday. Lots of people are supposed to show up."


    "Are you coming?"


    "I''m not sure," he said.


    "Why not?"


    "I haven''t been feeling so well," he blurted out, but he quickly added. "I''ll definitely try to come though."


    It''s the first time I''ve noticed something wrong. His eyes have light bags around them, and he seems to be catching his breath more than me while weeding. I don''t think he has the stomach flu or anything. Maybe he just got some bad sleep, but I think that something else might be going on that he isn''t telling me or maybe I''m overthinking it like always.


    At the least end of our hour, we walked home and parted ways. "You better come!" I yelled.


    "We''ll see about that on that day!" he shouted back.


    I told Mom and Dad about the fair. Mom thinks that it''s a great idea. Dad is a bit more skeptical, but I think he agrees with Mom. If this happened before, I''m not sure that any of us would want to go, but I guess things have changed, taking everyone along with them.

 Chapter 6, Part 1

    June 27


    We went to the fair today. Mom and Dad gave us about seventy dollars in cash and a pouch of coins along with some small candies and cough drops in case they wanted goods in exchange.


    "That''s a lot of money," I said to Mom as she handed us the money. "Are you sure that you don''t want to spend it on gas or something?"


    "Everything''s been so stressful lately," she said. "And I just want you guys to have a normal day, for once."


    The place was bustling with more people than Mira than I had ever seen all summer. I guess everyone in town wanted to come. There was a large poster fluttering in the wind, painted in bright shades of turquoise and blue. Someone must have put a lot of time into making it.


    A series of bells tolled, clanging loudly nine times, probably to signal the time. There were lots of small shacks set up in the plaza. Some people were selling canned food or jars of pickled vegetables. Others were selling medicines or essential supplies like batteries and mechanical parts. Armed guards patrolled the area to prevent people from stealing stuff.


    But there were many other stalls selling non-survival gear: floral dresses, straw hats, shoes, jewelry, paints, antiquities, and many more things. Mira came with May and I as we walked through the crowds of people.


    "Now''s your chance," I said.


    "What?" Mira said.


    "To bond with May."


    "Well, how am I supposed to do that?"


    "Just impress her or do something cool. I don''t know. Here''s some good one-on-one time with her."


    We reached a small stall and Mira picked up a couple of items.


    "How do I look?" Mira said, turning around.


    She had a floppy hat on her head with ridiculous pink framed sunglasses. "Awful," I said. "You look like Mom on the beach."


    "You''re a guy," she said. "Your opinion doesn''t matter. This is a girl problem."


    "May?" she asked, facing May.


    "For the first time in my life, I think I actually agree with Neal. You look terrible," she said.


    May picked up a pair of gold rimmed sunglasses. "You''ll look much better in these."


    Mira put them on, faux posing in front of a small mirror in front of the stall. I think she looked less bad, but she seriously needed to drop the hat.


    "These are such cute sunglasses," she said and turned towards the lady manning the stall. "How much for these?"


    "Twenty bucks," the woman said. "Unless you''ve got something better to offer."


    Mira mouthed back to us, "Twenty bucks? So expensive" much to the annoyance of that woman.


    It actually isn''t. Sunglasses probably cost around a hundred to two hundred bucks, but since we don''t have much cash, I guess it is expensive. Mira turned back to the stall and put on her I''m-getting-serious-with-you face. I can tell when she does that. She has that twinkle in her eye that shows that she''s up to something. "Listen, Ms.... What''s your name?"


    "Scott. Linda Scott."


    "Okay, listen Ms. Scott. Twenty bucks seems a tad too expensive for these sunglasses. I''ll give you ten bucks for these."


    "Fifteen bucks."


    "Twelve."


    "Fifteen."


    "Fifteen and a couple of candies," Mira said. "For that shirt and the glasses."


    Ms. Scott sighed. "Fine. You got yourself a deal."


    Mira gave her the money and candies and opened up her canvas bag to put her stuff in. Both of them were actually talking to each other. I smiled. They were finally getting along with each other, maybe a little too much. I think they forgot that I was there.


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    "Hey, Mira," I said, and she turned around. "I''m going to go off and explore on my own."


    "Okay. Remember to meet us at the entrance poster when the bells ring twice."


    "Okay."


    They went off on their own into the more clothing oriented section. I wandered off to the other side. People were selling lots of fruits and vegetables. Small orange apricots, fuzzy peaches, glossy watermelons, speckled cantaloupes. There was so much food around.


    Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and saw Charles. "I thought you weren''t going to come."


    "I was bored," he said.


    "Are your parents here?"


    "Nah, they decided to stay home and do stuff," he said. "What about your parents?"


    "They''re walking around here somewhere in the crowd."


    "We should do something interesting."


    "Let''s first just walk around here to see what''s going on."


    "Fine," he said as we walked down the cobbled plaza. There were little kids splashing around in some small inflatable pools. It was a hot day and I guess someone wasted a bit of electricity to pump up those pools. Some people were hitting volleyballs while other people were dribbling and shooting basketballs in the small court next to the plaza. I guess everyone is trying to pretend that everything''s normal.


    We circled around again, passing by the fresh fruit section. My mouth salivated. I missed fresh food. Everything we''re eating is canned and gross.


    "Do you want one?" I asked.


    "Sure," Charles replied.


    "How much for two nectarines," I asked the fruit stand owner.


    "Two for two dollars," he said.


    That was pretty expensive. But I guess food is scarcer since all the supermarkets closed down. Most people only get food from the weekly food giveaways at city hall. I still paid for it, and we went somewhere shaded away from the crowds.


    I took a large bite of the fruit, but Charles only nibbled at the skin of the fruit. "Something wrong?" I asked.


    "Oh, nothing," he said and took another tentative bite. "It''s just that I haven''t eaten fresh fruit in a while."


    "I don''t think anyone has. My family''s stuck eating canned food every day until the highways and delivery systems get fixed."


    "I miss pizza," he said. "Right now, I''m craving it so bad."


    "Me too," I replied. "And ice-cream and cookies and French fries and fried noodles."


    "Stop it!" he said. "My stomach is literally rumbling."


    "And hamburgers and teriyaki chicken and cake and chips and donuts. I even miss bread."


    "Yeah, I miss food," he said.


    Charles and I talked a bit after that, but he had to leave early. There wasn''t much to do afterwards. People began setting up dark plastic sheeting and multicolored blankets to cover themselves and their stalls from the sun. Most people were just lying in the shade under the trees. It was less crowded, so I decided to check the fair out one last time before heading back to the entrance.


    I bought two books, one survivalist fiction and the other a mystery thriller. Some person was selling potted herbs, so I bought a pot of mint. I still had a good fifteen dollars left and nothing to spend it on, so I decided to buy some Christmas gifts for my family. If the world never gets back to normal, I might as well spend the cash, and it''d be nice to get some surprise presents.


    For Dad, I got one of those "10 Ways to Become Successful" books. I''m not sure why he''s into those types of things, but I''m pretty sure that he would enjoy it. I got some small packets of instant coffee for Mom just in case we run out. I know she and Dad hate the taste of the cheap coffee, but this''ll be good for emergencies. I bought a small tea packet set for Grandpa and a Chinese-English dictionary for Grandma if she wants to keep learning English.


    Getting a gift for May was so hard. I wasn''t really sure what type of fashion she''s into, so I just bought her two scrunchies, one dark black and the other one a beige color (which I''m sure she''s going to hate since it''s her least favorite color). For Mira, I was even less sure about what to get her. She''s been away at college for over a year, so I wasn''t sure if she changed herself. I knew Mira was always into traveling. She wanted to see the world, so I bought her a photobook with pictures of exotic places. If we won''t be able to travel the world, at least she could experience these wonders at home.


    I was about to head out when I realized that I didn''t get a gift for Charles. We don''t really have a gift giving friendship at all, but in these circumstances, I guess it''d be nice to get him one. I only had a couple of bucks and a few goods to trade. I went around searching for something cool to give him. There were plenty of socks and sweaters and other pretty generic stuff, but I don''t think he''d want it.


    Then I spotted an interesting rock collection stand. The man was selling small collections of cheap gemstones like amethyst and garnets. But I think the most interesting one was a small bee frozen in amber. I spent the rest of my money on that. It almost mirrors our situation. The bee was wiped out just like we might be.


    When the bells rang twice, I arrived at the poster. "What''d you buy?" Mira asked.


    "Some books?" I lied. I wanted to keep this a secret from them. "Where''s Mom and Dad?"


    "I checked in with them ten minutes ago. They were shopping for some practical stuff, you know, jars and other crap."


    "What did you guys get?"


    "We got tons of cute shirts," May said.


    "I also bought a couple of gifts," Mira said. "For Mom and Dad and you."


    "Can I see them?" I asked.


    "Of course not," Mira said. "They''re going to be a surprise."


    "May," I said. "What did Mira buy?"


    "I''m not telling you anything," she said. "But I think it''s pretty obvious what the gift for you is."


    "A book?" I guess.


    "I''m neither going to confirm nor deny that," Mira said and waved in the distance. "What took you guys so long?"


    Mom lifted her new pair of sunglasses. "We got caught up in some of the stalls. I trust that you spent your money well."


    "Totally," I said.


    "Good," she said. "We better get home before it gets dark."


    Mira and May ran home to hide their gifts, so that Mom, Dad, and I won''t be able to find them. I could''ve beaten them home, but I decided not to. Mira and May are getting along together, and I''m happy about that¡ª even if that peace only lasts one day.

 Chapter 6, Part 2

    June 29


    Three earthquakes. A soft one yesterday afternoon and two harder ones today, one early in the morning and another this afternoon. I got some good connection on my radio today and the news doesn''t sound pleasant.


    There have been reports of increased sulfur dioxide and other gas emissions from volcanoes and vents surrounding them in Northern California and the Cascade Range in Oregon. There are warnings that a volcanic eruption may occur soon, so they''re trying to evacuate everyone out. The only problem is that there is no place to evacuate to. The big cities are destroyed. The suburban areas are powerless. The rural areas are simply unfit to handle massive amounts of people.


    "What''s going to happen to the evacuees?" I asked Dad.


    "The government is going to find someplace to put them."


    "What if they came to our city?" I asked.


    "They won''t," Dad said. "Even if they do, I''ll make sure they don''t get in."


    I was shocked. Dad was always talking about having kindness and welcoming people (even if he didn''t follow those principles).


    "But why?" I asked.


    "Our city doesn''t have enough resources or room to fit everyone in. We have to take care of ourselves first before helping other people."


    "Even if the other people die."


    "We aren''t even the safest community to live in. We''re right next to the sea. If the tides get worse, they''ll just have to move again."


    "Why don''t we move then?" I asked.


    "Because it''s safe here," he said. "There''s no fuel and the best that we can hope for is that people and the government will come together and work things out."


    I don''t know. Will we ever be able to work things out and make everything better again? I want to believe so. But some part of me doubts that that''ll happen. The tides, the earthquakes, the volcanic eruptions on the horizon. Everything seems to be getting worse every day.


    Actually, one thing seems to be getting better. They''ve been bonding over their shared love-hate relationship with gardening. This afternoon, they''ve been trying to install wire cages from a sheet of mesh that Dad found in the garage around the tomato plants.


    "What the hell is this manual saying," Mom yelled from the backyard.


    I went out to take a look. They were sitting on the lawn chairs staring at a gardening book with dirty gloves splayed across the small table. "What''s happening?" I asked.


    "No one understands anything in this manual," Mira said. "Take a look."


    There was some strange stuff written. I didn''t understand a word. It had something to do with maintaining the pH of the soil, I think. "If they are going to sell this book. Might as well make it useful for people to at least understand," Mom fumed.


    Mom gets a little hot headed when she gets frustrated, so I changed the subject. "How is the plant growing going?"


    "Good," Mom said, brightening up. "Eggplants and zucchini are doing well. Tomatoes and squash could use some work. And the rest of the other plants are doing fine."


    "What about growing cactus and succulents?" I added semi jokingly.


    "We''re not that desperate," Mira said.


    "Exactly," Mom said. "It won''t come down to that."


    "I''m just saying. Just in case," I said.


    At that moment, May popped out of the house. "I''d rather die than eat succulents."


    "Don''t say that," Mom scolded. "You might think that dying isn''t serious, but it is and we''re lucky to be alive when many people are facing a lot more suffering than us."


    "Geez. I was just joking."


    "We don''t joke about that stuff anymore," Mom said. "Let''s get back to work Mira, we have a lot to do."


    They spent the rest of the day in the garden. Mira says that we might start getting fresh vegetables late in August. I''m not excited though. I hate eating most of the plants they''re growing like eggplant, squash, and especially onions. Even with the thoughts of other people dying doesn''t change my views. I still hate those vegetables.


    June 30


    It was hot and muggy today. Sweat was beading on my forehead even inside my house and Mom and Mira took a day off from the garden to sit around, fan themselves, and relax. I wanted to skip work today, but Mom and Dad both said no.


    When I went to work today, Charles was unusually excited. "We''re going to do something interesting today," he announced.


    "What''s up with all this energy?" I asked. "You looked like you were going to die on Sunday."


    "Bad day," he said. "I didn''t get enough sleep."


    His answer felt like a lie, but I shrugged it off. Some part of me just appreciated all this positive energy. "What are we going to be doing?" I asked.


    "It''s a secret," he said.


    "If we''re going somewhere, I''m going to have to tell my parents first."


    "Just paste a note on your door," he said. "Tell them you''ll be back home around half an hour after the sun sets."


    "Sunset? That''s a long time."


    "Just do it," he said.


    "Fine," I said. "But it better be worth it."


    Our shirts were damp, clinging to our skin as the sun descended down the sky. The director of the garden volunteering program handed out bottles of water and saltines and reminded us to stay hydrated and if anyone is feeling sick or dizzy, they should tell him immediately. We worked an extra half hour today because some people didn''t come, and there was a lot to get done.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    After we logged our volunteer hours on a clipboard, I turned towards Charles. "It''s so hot right now. Maybe we should do whatever you have planned tomorrow or some other day."


    "Don''t worry, the heat is not going to be a problem," he replied.


    "Fine," I said. "Let''s go to my house first and then we''ll go wherever you are going to."


    When I got home, I told Mom that I was going out with Charles. Dad was at another one of those city meetings. Mom told me that I shouldn''t stay out too late (not like anyone can tell the time anymore) and to be safe.


    I kept asking Charles about where we were going. We were heading away from his house, passing by the oil railroad tracks and lush lawns of the mansions and the rotting husks of the sunken houses. We arrived at a small community and Charles opened the wooden gate surrounding one of the houses.


    "What are you doing?" I asked. "There could be people still living there."


    "Everyone''s gone," he said. "Haven''t you noticed."


    "What do you mean?" I asked.


    "You''ve been to the food drives, right?" he asked.


    "Not recently. My dad''s mostly been doing it."


    "My parents make me come every week, and the lines have been getting shorter and shorter," he said. "Lots of people are saying that we''re never going to get power back again, so they''re moving to Texas and New Mexico since they have lots of oil and gas."


    "So this whole neighborhood is deserted."


    "The last person left around a week ago."


    "How do you even know so much about this place?" I asked. "Please don''t tell me you are stalking these houses."


    "No," he said. "Not really. Follow me and I''ll tell you how I found out."


    "Fine."


    I followed him through the back gate and into the yard. Below the deck was a sloped hill leading to a creek. A tire swing hung from a large oak tree bordering the silt and stone streaked shore of the river.


    "How''d you find out about this?" I asked.


    "This was my old home," he said.


    "I thought you always lived wherever you live right now."


    "I moved there a long time ago, but this was my first home."


    "Okay," I said. "That still doesn''t explain how you found out that this place was empty."


    "I went to take a jog around the neighborhood some time back and decided to go and visit my old neighborhood. Most of the driveways were empty and a couple of days ago, all of the driveways emptied out," he said. "No one''s using these houses, so I thought it would be nice to cool down somewhere."


    "Wait a second," I said. "So you stalked your old house and waited until everyone left, so you could waltz in and claim it for yourself."


    "You know what?" he said. "The details don''t matter."


    He then took off his shirt and waded into the water. "What are you doing?" I asked.


    "Swimming," he said. "That''s what we came here for."


    "You know that I hate swimming," I said. "I''m not even dressed in the proper clothes."


    "Just get in with whatever you''re wearing," he said. "The sun will dry off everything else."


    "That still doesn''t change the fact that I hate swimming."


    "Fine," he said. "But you''re missing out."


    "Whatever," I said.


    I sat on a couple of rocks by the stream while he swam in the middle of the river. Around mid-afternoon, the heat was so bad that I decided to dip my toes in the water. Charles declared victory in his mission to get me to swim in the water. He called it "baby steps". We talked a bit after he stepped out of the water, dripping wet.


    "We should have a bucket-list," he said as he sat next to me.


    "Isn''t that what older people do?" I said.


    "No," he said. "Well, maybe. I''m not sure. But that''s not the point. The point is that we should make a list of five goals that we want to accomplish over summer."


    "List of goals? That sounds so much like school."


    "Dreams," he said. "Some stuff that we want to do before summer ends and we''re back to school to try to make sure to do everything before everything returns back to normal."


    "I don''t know," I said.


    "Just think about it," he said, turning towards me with a mischievous grin. "Because my first goal is to get you into the water."


    He kicked up water at me. "What the heck was that for?" I yelled.


    "See," he said. "Getting wet isn''t so bad."


    "Screw you."


    "You either get into the water by yourself or I''m going to force you."


    "You''ll pay for this," I said. "That''s going to be the first thing on my bucket list. ''Make Charles do something dumb.''"


    "Yeah, whatever," he said. "Get into the water."


    I waded in knee deep. "It''s cold!" I exclaimed.


    "That''s the point. It''s a hot day."


    "You will pay for this," I said, and he laughed.


    It wasn''t as cold after I dipped my whole body into the water. He took a couple of swings in the tire swing and told me to ride on it. I wasn''t allowed to refuse because it was part of the spirit of this bucket list wish. I guess it was fun, but I think I swallowed too much water. We crawled out of the water and sat on the ground as the air turned golden and the sun''s glare began to wane.


    "You have a great time today?" Charles asked.


    "It was okay," I said. Today was actually good, but I didn''t want to give him the satisfaction of being right.


    "Don''t lie to me."


    "I''m not!"


    "Liar. Liar."


    "Fine," I said. "Today was better than okay."


    "So you had a great time."


    "Interpret whatever I said however you want to," I said.


    "So you did have a good time."


    "If you insist so," I said.


    We sat and watched the sun slowly dip as the shadows grew longer and the sky blossomed with pinks and oranges. This is what the end of the world felt like. Surprisingly peaceful and oddly tinged with happiness. I turned towards Charles. "Do you ever wish that the world, you know, will never get back to normal?"


    He looked at me. "You wanna answer first," he said.


    I bit my lip. "I mean I want the electricity to come back and the internet and everything that we lost when the power went out. But it''s like I also don''t want everything to get back to normal because that means that the colleges and universities will open and then I''ll have to get internships and more serious jobs and volunteer work. All of that adult life future stuff just feels so big and so overwhelming."


    "I mean I agree with all that. Sometimes I wish I could just never grow up."


    "Really?" I asked. "I thought you were serious about colleges and stuff."


    "I am," he said. "When everything gets back to normal, I''ll probably do some internship or volunteering and focus on college and stuff. But with everything happening and everyone saying that it''s the end of the world, none of that feels important. This summer, or at least a portion of it, feels like a chance to relive our childhood even though we''re a lot older."


    "So if you could just snap your fingers right now and make everything back to the way it was before, would you?"


    "Yes," he said without hesitation.


    I sat there in silence for a couple of seconds. "I don''t think I would."


    A flash of disgust appeared on his face before disappearing immediately. Or maybe it was a flash of understanding. I couldn''t tell. We sat next to each other in silence for a couple of minutes. "That was some heavy stuff," he said.


    "Yeah..." I replied. "You want to talk about something else."


    "Yeah, sure," he said.


    "The sun has basically set," I said. "What are we going to do half an hour after it''s gone?"


    "Stargazing," he said. "We''re going stargazing."


    "Stargazing?"


    "Yeah, stargazing," he said. "Without all the light pollution, we might even be able to see the Milky Way."


    "See, look at that bright dot in the sky. That''s¡ª"


    "Venus," I interrupted. "The second brightest object in the sky after the Moon."


    "You know astronomy?" he asked.


    "I''m more surprised that you know astronomy," I said. "Didn''t you want to do business stuff in the future?"


    "I found a book about stars in the library and there''s been a lot of time on my hands," he said. "It''s too bad that the Moon is in the way of everything."


    The Moon stood bright in the sky, a beacon in the darkness of the night. I wonder what people are thinking about when they look into the night sky and see that silver coin gazing down at them. Do they look up at the sky and curse at the Moon for bringing death and destruction, for changing everything and making the world so radically different? Or do people bless the Moon for changing the world, giving people a chance to have something different in their lives?


    We laid on our backs and looked into the clear night sky. "Is that the North Star?"


    "No," he said and guided my arm. "That''s the one."


    He turned his head towards me. "I wish we had a telescope."


    "My Dad had one in the garage. We haven''t used it since the day of the Mooncrash."


    "I wish you had brought it."


    "You should''ve told me earlier."


    "True," he said. "We should do this again, but with a telescope."


    "Yeah."


    We gazed at the faint flecks of light in the sky for a couple of minutes. It was difficult to see much. The Moon was simply too bright. It''s definitely a curse for stargazing. After some time, we got up and started walking home. The neighborhood was quiet. No growling cars, chattering of family gatherings, rumbling of airplanes in the distance. Only the chirping of crickets and faint crashing of the waves.

 Chapter 6, Part 3

    July 1


    Things are going bad with the volcanoes. The radio wasn''t as staticky today, so I was able to hear the news reports. For the Cascade Range volcanoes up in Northern California and Oregon, scientists have been noticing large spikes in sulfur dioxide and other gases from around the volcanoes. They said that those signs don''t mean that a volcanic eruption is going to come, but they warned us that there''s a strong chance that will occur.


    But the signs don''t look good and there has been increased volcanic activity around the world. The volcano on Hawaii has been spewing out streams and streams of lava while volcanoes in Indonesia are rumbling again. I told May about this. "The volcanoes might be erupting.".


    "Cool," she replied.


    "What do you mean cool?" I asked. "We could die. People could die."


    "We''re not even close to any volcanoes. Do you see any outside," she said and pointed out of the window. "That''s what I thought."


    "But still, it could happen and¡ª"


    "The news is probably exaggerated," she said. "They do it all the time. Remember the time that the news was saying that everyone was going to get Ebola and die? Well guess what? It only infected a couple of people outside of Africa."


    "That''s because the government stepped in and stopped it. It can''t stop this."


    "Exactly," she said. "What can we do about it? Nothing. We''re far away from the volcanoes, so we don''t need to move. All we can do is wait until the news stops blaring about it."


    "Okay," I said.


    "Don''t panic," she said. "Everything is going to be alright, and everything will return back to normal by the end of summer."


    How can she think that everything is going to go back to normal? I just noticed that May is the only one that is acting like everything is going to be okay. Mom and Mira are gardening to make sure that we don''t starve if the food runs out. Dad is going to council meetings to see if we''re ever going to be able to fix up the houses by the water and get electricity back. I''m openly worried about the news and it seems like May is the only one not affected by the Mooncrash. She''s taking pictures, going to birthday parties, pretending that everything is normal. Is this what hope is like or delusional dreams? I don''t know.


    I told Dad the same thing. "That''s bad," he said.


    "What are we going to do about it?"


    "There''s nothing much to do about it?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "We won''t be able to stop the volcanic eruptions. Nobody will be able to. Not us, not the government, not even the world. The best that we can do is hope that it never happens."


    "That''s what May said too, kinda," I replied.


    "Sometimes you should listen to your sister."


    We didn''t do much today, but I went into the pantry. Cans still lined the shelves, but I could tell that food was slowly disappearing. We still eat three meals a day, but if things take a turn for the worse, I don''t know what we''ll do.


    July 2


    There were a couple of tremors today during the afternoon. I was with Charles in the community garden when the first one happened. The ground began vibrating. "Are we in an earthquake?" I asked.


    "Yeah," he said. "We should probably get down."


    "Get down under what?"


    "I don''t know," he said.


    "Should we move to an open area?"


    "That seems like a smart idea," he replied.


    There was a grassy field next to the community garden. The area was bordered by some trees, but none in the middle, so Charles and I ran out into the meadow. There were already a couple of people gathered there¡ª probably volunteers for the community garden. But I noticed that there were only about ten or so people there, far less than what we started with in the beginning.


    I was going to talk about that with Charles, but the tremble got stronger. Trees rustled and crows roosting on their branches flew away, forming flocks of black in the sky. I heard a crash of plastic. The greenhouse fell down. There were a couple of groans and some cursing. "I feel bad for the greenhouse people," I said.


    "Yeah, they worked pretty hard over the summer for it."


    "Do you think they''re going to restart?"


    "Probably," Charles said. "Or they might start working in the main garden and abandon the project. With all the earthquakes, I don''t think they''re going to be able to make much progress anyways."


    "There aren''t many people here," I said.


    "Yeah," he said. "Told you that everyone is leaving."


    "Are you going to be leaving?" I asked.


    "Probably not," he said. "We won''t have anywhere to go even if we wanted to leave."


    I breathed a sigh of relief. We chatted a bit more until the people in charge of the gardening effort told us that the earthquakes made working in the garden too dangerous because of trees and things falling, so they dismissed us early. We''re still meeting next week though.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Charles and I walked home together. He asked all of a sudden, "Are you going to leave?"


    "No," I said. "Well, probably not. Why are you asking?"


    "Why did you ask?"


    "I was just curious, that''s all."


    "Okay," he said and turned towards me. "Have you thought of your five things on your bucket list?"


    "Not really," I said. "The only thing that I''ve got so far is ''Make Charles do something embarrassing.''"


    "You better have your goals down next week because we''re starting."


    "Don''t we have all summer to do it."


    "Didn''t you hear?" Charles said. "The mayor says that we''re getting power by the end of the month."


    "How?" I asked. "That doesn''t make any sense. There''s no way the city could get all the solar panels and wind turbines up or ship in enough oil to power the city."


    "I don''t know," he said. "All I know is that everything is going to go back to normal by the end of the month, so we better hurry up."


    "Okay," I said, and we reached his house. "See you next week."


    "You better have your list ready."


    "Totally," I said.


    "That better not be sarcastic," he shouted back and waved goodbye.


    A couple of minutes after I got home, another tremble hit, but it was softer than the one at the community garden. I went into my room and cranked the radio one. The scientists were talking about the Moon''s effect on the volcanic eruptions. Because it''s much closer than before, the Moon''s gravity is pulling on the magma in the mantle and forcing it upwards to the surface and causing volcanic eruptions.


    The volcanologists have been monitoring volcanoes worldwide and many of them are steaming up and becoming more active. The only good news is that the supervolcano in Yellowstone doesn''t seem like it''s going to erupt soon, but scientists believe that it''s going to happen in around a century or two.


    I was going to keep listening to the radio when Mira interrupted me. "Are you listening to the radio again?"


    I nodded. "It''s all bad news."


    "I know," Mira said. "I could hear it from the hallway."


    She took the radio out of my hand. "You should take a break from this. Too much bad news isn''t good for you."


    "But what if something new¡ª"


    "Any new information won''t help you and it won''t help us," Mira said. "Relax. Read a book. Help me with the garden. Just do something."


    "Fine," I said. "I''ll read a book."


    "It better not be about volcanoes or natural disasters. Read something more positive like a comedy or romance or something like that."


    "I don''t have any books like that though."


    "The library is open, right?" she said.


    "I don''t know," I said. "I''ll go and check tomorrow."


    "In the meantime, you can help me with gardening. We''ve got a lot to do," Mira said.


    "I''ll pass," I said. "I''m going to play cards."


    "With who?" she said.


    "Myself," I said.


    "What card games can you play by yourself?"


    "Solitaire," I said.


    "Okay," Mira said. "But you better not touch the radio."


    "Got it," I said, and Mira left the room.


    I laid out the cards and played a couple of rounds, but I got bored quickly. I grabbed the radio from on top of the drawer and dimmed the volume, listening to the news. The radio spouted out estimations about death toll, economic impact, ecological damage, everything bad about the volcanoes. I wanted to be hopeful, but it''s hard when the whole world is saying that the volcanic disasters might wipe out millions of people.


    July 3


    It happened sometime during the night.


    The sky was dark and gray in the morning when I woke up. I thought that it was five in the morning, but it was around nine. May was the only one awake. "Why is it so cloudy today?" she asked. "It never rains here during the summer and it''s only ever foggy here in spring."


    I looked out of the window. The sky was a deep shade of gray, obscuring the sun and blueness of the sky. "Hello," May said. "You still haven''t answered my question."


    "Also," she said and pointed out. "It''s snowing for some reason."


    I stepped outside. It was quite warm, seventy degrees at least. There was no way that it was snowing. A gray flake landed on my arm, powdery and dusty. "It''s ash," I said. "We should stay inside."


    I went inside and woke Dad up. "The volcanoes have erupted," I told Dad and he told me to wake everyone up to meet at the dining table. After I woke everyone up, I grabbed the radio and cranked it a few times. The news was grim. Volcanoes all along the Cascade Range, some of which were thought to be extinct, erupted at night, wiping out most of Oregon and Washington along with parts of California.


    "How do you know?" Dad asked as we circled around the table.


    "The dark clouds in the sky aren''t really clouds. They''re volcanic ash," I said. "And the radio is saying that the volcanoes up north have all erupted."


    "That''s bad," Dad said.


    "No, duh," May said.


    "Not now, May," Mom said. "First thing we''re going to do is to close all the windows. Breathing in all this ash is going to be bad for everyone''s lungs."


    "Neal," she said. "You''re in charge of sorting out the windows."


    "The next thing we''re going to do is to bring in all of the potted plants so that the leaves don''t get covered with dust. Mira and I will do that."


    "But what about the ash?" I asked.


    "Remember those masks that we bought for the wildfires. Everyone is going to have to put them on."


    "But they''re so uncomfortable," May said.


    "Everyone is putting them on," Mom said.


    "We should take the car in too," Dad said. "The dust is bad for the engine. Is there gas in the engine, Mira?"


    "I don''t know," Mira said.


    "You were the last one to use the car. How do you not know?" Dad said.


    "There''s no time for petty arguments," Mom said. "Just try turning on the car and if it doesn''t work, then we''ll just have to push it into the garage."


    "What about Grandma and Grandpa?" I asked. "Shouldn''t we pick them up?"


    "They''re safe where they are," Mom said.


    "I don''t think so," Dad said. "There''s going to be a lot of unrest after the volcanic eruption. It''s best that they stay here for at least a couple of weeks until conditions get better. I can go get them if there''s still gas in the car."


    "But what if conditions don''t get better," I added. "With all the ash in the air, we can''t even see the sun. How are all the plants going to grow? I read one time that just one giant volcanic eruption caused famine, but with all these volcanic eruptions, will our garden even work?"


    "That''s a good point," Mom said. "We''re going to need to start cutting down meals. Two meals a day from now on."


    "Two meals," May exclaimed. "I''m going to starve."


    "Mom," Mira said. "That seems a little extreme."


    "Fine," Mom said. "Three meals on Sundays and Wednesdays. The rest of the days we''re eating two meals only."


    "What is May going to be doing today?" I asked. "You haven''t assigned her anything."


    "After you finish closing up all the windows, you and May are going to be counting up how much food we have if we ever need to ration."


    Mom looked at all of us. "Is everyone ready to work?" she said. "Okay, good."


    I went all around our house trying to close the windows. We had flung them all open because it was always hot at night. Finding and closing them was a chore, but it didn''t take long. By the time that I had finished, May had finished organizing a chart system and we began to count up the cans of food. We''ve got around a thousand five hundred cans of food.


    When I first added all the cans up together, the number seemed like a lot, but looking back at it now, we don''t have a lot of food. We''re eating twelve cans a day because Dad brought Grandma and Grandpa to our house. If we keep at it at this pace, we''ll be out of food in four months. I don''t know if the Sun is ever going to come out again, and if the volcanic ash is all over the world, then all our crops will die. The food deliveries that we receive every Saturday (except for today, though I guess it was because of the panic from the volcanoes) will start to get smaller and smaller. We''ll start starving in the winter months and die slowly and painfully.


    If the universe gave me a choice to reverse this whole disaster and prevent this whole Mooncrash, I think I''ll take it now. I guess this future feels worse than my previous one.

 Chapter 7, Part 1

    July 4


    We''re one day into the volcanic eruptions and everything feels so suffocating. Grandma and Grandpa moved into my bedroom, so I had to move into Mira and May''s bedroom. I haven''t shared bedrooms in a while, and it feels awful. No more privacy or time for myself.


    Today was our first day of reduced meals. Mom and Mira tried to make it better by making pho. They took three packages of noodles (so that each person gets half a package) and mixed in some green onions from the pots in our house along with some canned chicken. It tasted pretty good, and I guess it made my day slightly better.


    I''ve been thinking about the bucket list thing a lot today. I wanted to put something that would be impossible to achieve, like going skydiving or sailing across the ocean, but I think Charles is taking this seriously, so I will too.


    I can''t think of anything though. The only thing I''ve got is the "Make Charles do something embarrassing" one and that doesn''t even count because it''s not specific. I don''t know how to explain this, but it feels like having five choices (well four now) is just not enough to capture everything I want to do for this summer, but at the same time, it feels like too much.


    I don''t think I''ll ever be able to see Charles again. The ash is still snowing down onto our town. We''ve got about two inches over the roads. It must be worse farther up north. Some of the towns would be covered in many feet of that suffocating ash.


    I wonder when it''ll rain. At least then the ash won''t billow around every time a gust of wind passes through.


    July 5


    More ash today.


    Mom and Dad went out to try to clear up the ash from the rooftops. Dad is worried that if too much ash piles up onto the roof, it might collapse. Every time that they scrape off another layer of ash, the grayish dust blossoms and enshrouds our house before settling down.


    It''s been getting colder too. With little sunlight reaching the ground, the temperature only seems to get cooler and cooler. In the middle of the afternoon, the temperature was in the low seventies, but that''s only because we have an ocean next to us to stabilize the temperature. I would imagine that the temperatures in the Central Valley would be much colder, maybe low sixties or high fifties.


    "I told you everything was going to get bad," I said to May.


    "What''s your point?" May said.


    "Just saying," I said.


    "It''s not like we could do anything about it," she said. "It happened, so yeah."


    "Aren''t you worried?" I asked.


    "It''s not like that would help anything," she said. "Just wait and everything will go back to normal. We''ll probably have to go back to school and be stuck in boring classes by the time August hits."


    "Plus," she added. "Didn''t you always want an apocalypse to happen?"


    "When did I say that?" I asked.


    "I don''t know," she said. "You were pretty obsessed with apocalyptic stuff."


    I guess she''s right. Everything about an apocalypse seems almost appealing. When everyone dies, it gives you a chance to start over, a fresh beginning and almost a new chance of life. The life and death stakes make life seem like it actually matters in a strange, twisted way. Like your actions have really real consequences.


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    But here, there''s no chance at a fresh start. Mom, Dad, Mira, May, Grandpa, Grandma, and I are all stuck in the same home, trapped by the snowfall of dust. Our worlds seem to get smaller and smaller¡ª not bigger like all apocalypses. And the worst part of all that is the life and death stakes can''t be changed. It''s not like a zombie apocalypse where you can just kill the zombies and win. No one can stop the volcanoes, not me, not May, not any of the scientists or governments.


    That''s the worst part. The feeling that nothing you do actually matters.


    July 6


    At least it stopped snowing ash today.


    Mom and Mira went outside today with their air masks on to try to brush ash off the plant leaves so that they''ll be able to receive what little sunshine passes through the clouds. The issue is that every time that they shuffled through the garden, clouds of ash stirred up. Mom and Mira wanted to use the water from the gardening hose to clump down the ash.


    That''s when Mira and Dad started fighting again, breaking their fragile truce.


    "We''re using the water to keep the ash down," Mira said.


    "No," Dad said.


    "What do you mean, no?" Mira said.


    "We''re not doing it," Dad said. "It''s not smart."


    "You know what''s not smart," Mira said. "Letting the garden die because the plants can''t get any sunshine."


    "We don''t know what''s going to come after," Dad said. "We don''t know if another ash storm is going to come or if we''re going to run out of water. What''s more important to you, keeping those plants alive even though, let''s be honest, they have little chance of survival without sunlight or not dying of dehydration, or using your time and resources to do something that actually will last us through this."


    "Those plants will be our only source of food when we run out of canned stuff," Mira retorted. "We have water right now. We should use it."


    "We don''t know what''s going to happen next," Dad said. "Saving water is what we should be doing."


    "No," Mira said. "What we should be doing is keeping our crops alive, so we''ll have food."


    "No. We''re not continuing your gardening vanity project," Dad said. "This is not play-acting. This is the real deal¡ª"


    "I''m not playing. You think this is a game for me," Mira said. "I''m taking this as seriously as you are."


    "If you are doing that, you should be filling up all the bottles and pots in our house."


    When Mira walked away, I thought that would be the end of the conversation. But instead, she turned on the hose and began spraying the ground. Dad stormed outside.


    "Turn it off," he yelled.


    "No," Mira said. "We need to save the plants."


    "We''re not going to do that," Dad said. "Turn it off or else."


    "No," Mira said, and Dad lunged for the faucet. A gust of wind kicked up a storm of ash, and Dad began coughing loudly.


    "What are you guys doing?" Mom said. "Get inside immediately."


    "No," Mira said. "Not until Dad listens to me."


    "Turn off the faucet Mira," Dad said.


    "Listen to your father Mira," Mom said. "We will discuss this inside. Not out here."


    "You guys never listen to me," Mira shouted, turning off the faucet and storming into her room. Dad looked smug with a tinge of sadness while Mom looked tired. Watching people fight can be even more exhausting than participating in them.


    Our day went on about as normally as any day would. Everyone sat inside the house doing nothing because there was nothing to do. May and I were banned from leaving the house because Mom is paranoid about inhaling ash. The SAT booklets and practice problems feel pointless right now. I mean the world looks like it''s ending.


    Mira missed dinner today. I knocked on her door and entered her room. "Do you want to eat?" I asked.


    "No, I''m not really hungry."


    "Okay," I said. "Do you want me to leave?"


    "I just don''t get it," she said. "Why don''t Mom and Dad ever listen to me?"


    I sat next to her. "Dad''s idea was good¡ª"


    "So are you taking Dad''s side now?"


    "I''m not taking anyone''s side," I said. "But objectively speaking, saving water feels more important."


    I continued. "You and Dad are all so stubborn. I guess everyone in this family is a little bit stubborn, but especially you and Dad."


    "I just feel like Dad never listens to anything that I say," she said. "Like none of my ideas have any merit. And Mom always just seems to agree with him."


    "Dad has a way of not listening to anyone else," I said. "And it can be frustrating. But sometimes it makes him really focus on the important stuff."


    "Look," I added. "You and Dad are not going to fix things easily and maybe not perfectly right now. But maybe you don''t need to have everything fixed perfectly. You''re an adult now. You don''t need to listen to our parents anymore."


    "But that''s the thing. I don''t know why, but I want, like really, deeply want, Mom and Dad''s approval. It just makes me feel noticed or like needed."


    "Maybe it''s time to forge your own path," I said.


    "I just don''t feel like I can."


    I never knew that about Mira. I always knew that she was stubborn. She was the most rebellious of all of our family, but I never knew this about her. This deep, primal longing. Maybe I don''t know my older sister as well as I thought.

 Chapter 7, Part 2

    July 7


    The world is really closing in. And it hasn''t even been a week since everything has changed. Is this what life is going to be like forever?


    Mom said that I couldn''t go to the community garden.


    "Why not?" I asked.


    "It''s too dangerous out there," she said. "It''s not good for your lungs¡ª"


    "I''ll wear an air mask," I blurted out.


    "I''m not going to let your lungs get destroyed," she said. "Go and spend some time with May or Mira."


    "I''m already spending time with you guys. I have to live in this house all day, all night!"


    "Figure out a way to get used to it," Mom said. "No one is leaving the house."


    I feel like Mom and Dad just don''t understand me. It''s suffocating staying at home. With me sharing a bedroom with Mira and May to Grandpa and Grandma living in our house, it''s like there''s no privacy or any room for me to breathe. And I don''t know, but I almost feel guilty about thinking about this because there are people who are facing a whole lot worse, and I''m here complaining that my house doesn''t have any space.


    The whole day was boring. Only Dad''s phone has power. The rest of ours have slowly died over the past week. May''s was first, then Mira''s, Mom''s, and finally mine last night. Without much sunlight, the solar panels rarely charge anything, and the solar paneled phone packet charger doesn''t work anymore since the sunlight has been so scarce.


    Grandma and Grandpa have been taking the lead for cooking ever since they''ve been here. Today, they made a type of sweet bun using beets. Normally, they''re made with taro, but there was none, so we had to deal with purplish colored beets. The buns weren''t bad, a little bitter and tough, and I wish we had taro. But it''s hard to complain because I''m always hungry. I wish we had electricity and the internet and everything. Then I could order a pizza or something.


    I''ve been thinking about the wish list a lot. I''ve got some ideas, but I don''t know if they''re possible. Writing a book is something that I''ve thought about, but that seems boring and impossible, especially during the summer. First kiss, losing my virginity, and those other love stuff feel too cliche, and I don''t know if I''m all into those types of things. Breaking the law, but I''ve done it. Visiting foreign places, doing something daring and new, experiencing the world all feel like pipe dreams right now. I keep shooting down any idea that I come up with.


    So I decided to ask Mira about it. "Do you have any dreams?"


    "Do you mean daydream and nightmare stuff," she said. "Or dream dreams."


    "Dream dreams," I said. "Like future stuff."


    "I mean, yeah," she said. "Finding love, traveling the world, having a good time with life. That kind of stuff."


    "But do you think you''ll ever be able to accomplish them with everything that''s been going on?" I asked.


    "Probably," she said. "I could modify a couple of them to accomplish them, but yeah."


    She continued. "What''s all of this future dream stuff about anyways?"


    "I, I was just¡ª"


    "Neal, don''t lie to me," she said. "I''m your sister. You can talk to me."


    I didn''t know what to do. I don''t really like to tell Mira stuff about my personal life, but if I lied again, more cracks would form between us. So I let her in a little. "It''s just something Charles and I were talking about."


    "Do you want to accomplish your dreams?"


    "I''d like to," I said. "But I don''t even know what I want. I feel like everything that I think of just feels ingenuine or impossible to achieve."


    "What does that mean?"


    "I don''t know what I want," I said. "I mean, how do you even know that this is what I want to try to accomplish."


    "Listen to your heart."


    "Literally don''t understand that phrase."


    "Like if you go into the future and look back onto yourself, what would you say to your previous self to do? To experience?"


    "That just feels like regret."


    "Regrets are dreams people realized too late."


    And that line stuck with me. I don''t know why, but it just did. What do I want right now? What do I want for my future? What do I want to do that I''ll regret never doing when I''m sick and dying?


    And the answer is still: I don''t know.


    July 8


    I caught May doing something she shouldn''t have, but I don''t know if I should tell Mom or Dad or anyone. And the nightmare has come back.


    The sky was ashy gray, a deep and dark one, as I splashed around shallow waters. I looked down and saw¡ª not sand¡ª but ash between my toes. The water was murky gray with a tinge of blue. It began to snow, small grey flecks drifting from the sky and touching the water.


    I began to run, but the sea was endless. My legs felt like syrup. Every step that I took felt like a step backwards. The snow came down in flurries, whipping gales of gray. A person was calling out, but I couldn''t hear anything. I looked backwards and there was a shadow of a volcano in the distance.


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    There was a boom, and a bright flash of fiery goldens and oranges lighting up the sky. Then there was this steady rumble that turned into a roar. I saw it coming, and I ran. But I felt like I was in quicksand and all that I could do was watch. The roar grew louder, and a wall of gray appeared on the horizon. It grew closer and closer until it hit me like a wall of bricks, and I woke up sweaty and shaking.


    I went to the kitchen, and that''s when I saw May. "What are you doing?" I asked.


    "Nothing," she said, but it was pretty clear that she was doing something. She was in front of the pantry.


    "Don''t lie," I said. "What are you actually doing though?"


    "Fine," she said. "I''m hungry okay. I''m just grabbing a can of pears. It''s not a big deal."


    "We could die if we run out of food. That''s why we''re on rations, so we''ll always have enough."


    "Literally everything is going to be fine," she said. "Stop being so serious."


    "Look outside," I said and pointed to the window. "The sky is filled with ash. Food won''t be able to grow without sunlight and we''ll start running out of food and begin to starve. Rationing is the only way to prevent that."


    "The government will figure things out. It has to. There''s other ways to grow food. They could make giant greenhouses."


    "Without oil or gas, no machines run. We won''t be able to build anything to feed the amount of people in this country," I said. "I''m telling Mom and Dad about this."


    "Then I''ll tell them about the time that you skipped piano practice for two months during the summer."


    "I''ll tell them about the time that you got an F on your geometry quiz."


    "I''ll tell them about the time that you¡ª"


    "Fine," I said. "Congratulations. You win. No more mutual blackmailing."


    "Great," she said. "So can I go now?"


    "Just think about what I said, please."


    "Neal, stop worrying so much. Everything will go back to normal. The government has to make it work."


    May grabbed a bag of chips lying in the pantry and opened it. "You want some?"


    "No," I said. "I''m going back to sleep."


    I went back to sleep. The sky was very dark, and it was easy to pretend that it was nighttime. I was pretty tired in the morning, and I hoped that the nightmare wouldn''t come back. It didn''t, and I woke up sometime in the middle of the afternoon for lunch.


    The air smelled good like actual food. I went out of my room and heard the sizzling of a pan. After a month or so of eating canned food straight from the can, someone was cooking actual food.


    "Good morning sleeping beauty," Dad said.


    "What are you guys making?"


    "Omelet," he said. "Your Mom found some dried egg whites in the pantry. They''re going to be a bit white, but hopefully they''ll taste alright."


    "Why are you guys making this?" I asked. "Did someone die or something?"


    Dad chuckled. "Nothing happened. Just good for morale."


    "Okay," I said. "Then, what do you want from me?"


    "Nothing," Dad said. "Just eat up and enjoy."


    "Okay," I said and then ate the omelet. It tasted a bit strange, but that''s probably because of the color. The stark whiteness of the omelet was unnerving. I was going to go back to my room, but then Dad told me to call Mira and May to the dining table.


    "Why?" I asked.


    "Just do it," he said.


    So I called Mira and May to the dining table, and we sat there awkwardly for a good moment while Dad rummaged through some old closet. He pulled out a skinny box. "We''re playing Monopoly!"


    "Why?" I asked.


    "Family bonding activity."


    "I''m out of here," May said.


    "May," he said. "Sit down at the table."


    "Family bonding activity. More like dictator mandated torture," she said. "We can''t even play Monopoly. It takes too long to finish."


    "Are there any other board games?" I asked.


    "I''ll go check," Mira said. "There might be some in our room."


    Dad looked into the closet. "Scrabble?" he asked.


    "I literally don''t want to play word games in summer," May said.


    "Stop complaining May," he said. "I don''t like this attitude."


    "I think the biggest issue is that it needs so much manual counting because there isn''t a computer to just add everything up," I said, trying to stem the argument.


    "Fine," Dad said. "We''ll play something else."


    He rummaged through the closet for a couple more minutes and muttered underneath his breath about all the random stuff that was just lying around. Mira came back with Sorry! When we opened up the box, there were only four colors of pieces. Dad didn''t want to play the board game because he wanted Mom to play too, but Mira, May, and I outvoted him. Mom said that she didn''t mind and joined her parents in the guest bedroom.


    We laid out the pieces. "I''m going first," May said.


    No one objected, so we let her draw the first card. It was a one, so she moved her piece out of the starting location. She drew a couple more ones and twos after while Dad and Mira only drew one of them. I had the worst luck. None of my cards were one or two.


    "I give up," I said. "This is hopeless."


    "Ha, ha," May said. "Take an ''L''"


    "Someday, something good will happen to you," Mira said.


    "I thought we chose this game because it wouldn''t take us days to finish," I replied.


    "Whatever you get on your next card will bring you out of jail," Dad said. "Free pass."


    I managed to get a twelve. "If you win this game," May said. "Remember that you cheated your way to a victory."


    "It was allowed cheating," I said. "Equity for the unfortunate."


    We drew cards and moved pieces around. I managed to knock some of Mira''s pieces to the start, but it didn''t matter. May had such a great head start that she managed to get all of her pieces into the end and won pretty easily. "I won," she crowed.


    "We need a rematch," I said. "But without the rigged deck. I''m shuffling this time."


    "Should we continue," Dad said. "Or start a new game."


    "New one," Mira said. "I''m not going to even get close to winning since someone kept knocking all of my pieces out."


    "Sorry," I said. "Ha. Ha. You get the pun."


    "Shame," May said. "Never say that again."


    Just as Dad was moving the pieces back, there was a knock on the door. Dad went to answer it, and he and another man spoke for a minute or so before Dad said that he had to go to a community meeting. Apparently, it was very important. Mira and I cleaned up the table and then we went and did other stuff¡ª mostly laying around and doing nothing since there was absolutely nothing to do.


    Dad came back late, sometime around eight. Mira and May were asleep, but I was still awake even though it was dead silent outside¡ª no crickets, no cars, nothing. I wanted a glass of water and grabbed a cup and started walking towards the kitchen when I heard Mom and Dad talking.


    "¡ªcutting off natural gas," Dad said.


    "They can''t do that to us," Mom said. "There''s no way anyone would allow this."


    "The council just doesn''t have enough money to maintain the pipelines and the state is running out of power to keep the factories on."


    "What about the water purification plants," Mom said. "Or sewage."


    "There are rumors that they''re all closing in October," Dad said. "They''re still finalizing the dates, but that''s it."


    "How are we going to survive?" Mom asked. "It''s getting colder every day. How are we going to keep ourselves warm? How are we even going to not starve? If the water plants are shutting down, they might stop the food deliveries. We don''t have an infinite amount of food, and we can''t grow any more."


    "We''ll figure it out. We can cut down trees and I''m sure the fireplace will work. There''s a river nearby and if we run out of food, I''m sure we will be able to figure it out," Dad replied. "We will be able to."


    "What if this is too much?" Mom said. "What if¡ª"


    "Don''t say that," Dad said. "We have to keep hope."


    I began walking down the hallway loudly. It felt too strange to listen to their conversation. I felt like I was eavesdropping on a private, intimate conversation. "What are you doing up so late?" Dad asked.


    "Getting water," I said. "It''s not even that late. It''s eight-nine o''clock right now."


    Mom and Dad stared at me strangely as I filled up my water glass. I think that they know I heard their conversation. I drank some water and went into my room. Everything seems to be getting worse every day. Hopefully the ash is gone tomorrow.

 Chapter 7, Part 3

    July 9


    The riots exploded around the city. I don''t think they''ll ever stop.


    It happened later in the day after Dad took all of us to the food handouts. He and Mom had a big argument about it.


    "We need to bring them along," Dad said. "The officials aren''t going to be so lenient anymore. They''ll want us to bring everyone along to make sure that we actually have six people in our family. Some people might be lying about the number of people in their family, so we have to bring everyone along to prove that we, in fact, do have six people in our household."


    "No," Mom said. "It''s too dangerous. Breathing in ash is like breathing in glass. It will shred our children''s lungs. We''ll kill them."


    "That''s why we have the masks," Dad said. "To protect them!"


    "No," Mom said. "It''s too dangerous."


    "What''s dangerous is letting our children starve if we don''t get food¡ª"


    "But we''ve got food," Mom said. "Plenty of food to last us for a long time. What''s the point of even getting food if we''ve got plenty and the food that we get won''t even last us a long time? Why risk our children''s health?"


    "Because every can of food we get is another day Mira, May, and Neal avoid starvation!" Dad said. "Another day to survive if things never get back to normal."


    "We can''t keep them indoors forever," Dad continued. "Most of the ash has settled down or mixed with the dirt or is too high in the atmosphere to even threaten to harm us. We''ve got the air masks, we''re safe."


    Mom looked genuinely conflicted. She wanted to keep us safe, but Dad''s arguments made sense. It was important to get food, just in case things don''t go back to normal. What''s the point of keeping us from breathing ash and harming our health a little bit if we die of starvation first. In the end, she chose to make us all go, including Grandma and Grandpa, and we all had to wear air masks. Grandpa didn''t want to wear them, but Mom yelled at him and eventually even he put them on.


    Mom made us walk slowly, careful not to make us breathe too hard. I wanted to ask her about the way back when we''d have to carry all those bags filled with food, but that was a problem for later.


    The sky was bleak gray, and the streets were empty. We passed by some shops and stores, but nothing was open. All of them were dark on the inside and barren, except for a smattering of tables, chairs, counters lying around. The only signs of life were when I started approaching the town hall. There were people huddling together in a jumbled line.


    It was shorter than the line during the start of summer. Most of the people probably moved on to better places. There were at least ten guards standing around the town hall. That''s even more than there were during the beginning of summer when there were much more people. I guess the ash fall is scaring people and making them more desperate.


    "It''s cold," May said.


    It was pretty cool outside, not quite cold but definitely cool. I''d say around the low sixties. It felt like fall even though it was summer. The temperature should go up a bit since we''re approaching the peak of summer heat, but after that, who knows how low the temperature will drop. I wonder if people in Minnesota are already feeling the effects of winter already. It doesn''t get too warm over there in the summer, so I bet that it''s cold over there.


    A gust of wind kicked up the ash. "Look at the snow," Mira said.


    "Too bad we can''t make snowballs out of them. That would be fun," I said.


    "Don''t touch it," Mom said.


    "Live a little Mom," Mira said. "We had to touch all this ash when we had to clean up the garden."


    "I was talking to Neal," Mom said. "You can never be too careful."


    We were approaching the front of the line when small groups of people began forming off to the sides. Some people were wearing ski masks and others had signs. I couldn''t read out what they said, but I''m sure that it had to do with the food giveaways. "Hopefully this line moves quicker," Dad said. "People are gathering all around us."


    "Maybe we should leave," Mom said. "We can always pick it up another day."


    "There is no other day," Dad said. "Today or never. We''ve just got to hope that everything doesn''t go bad."


    As we crawled towards the front of the line, more people began crowding the courtyard. The guards were carrying big guns and they moved to try to control the crowd, but I think it just made the people more unruly. Dad moved behind us and tried hustling us towards the front.


    But the line moved slowly, and the crowd only started to grow. There were rowdy shouts and cries. Dad looked more nervous while Mom tried staying calm. She made Grandpa and Grandma stay near us, and we formed this tight bundle. "Why are all these people here?" May asked.


    "Because some people were less prepared than we were, so they want more food," Mom said. "Don''t stare at them, and let''s just keep moving."


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    The crowd unfurled a large poster about the city council people. They called them pigs for hogging all the food from the people. I don''t know how valid those statements are, but it does seem likely that the city council will be well fed. I feel guilty all of a sudden. I know that we need food in case things never return back to normal, but at the same time, our family is well off in terms of food. It makes me feel like I am stealing food from someone who needs it more than I do.


    "Should we ever be here?" I asked Mom.


    "We''re almost at the front of the line," she said and craned her neck. "Another family and then we''ll get our food."


    "I''m not talking about that¡ª"


    "We''ll be safe," Mom said. "Just a few minutes and then we''re out."


    "Can you let me finish Mom?" I asked. "We''ve got more food than¡ª"


    "Keep your voice down," Mom said. "Do you want everyone to know?"


    "We''ve got a lot of food and some of these people don''t. We''re, like, stealing food from them."


    "No we aren''t," Mom said. "When everything gets worse, we''re going to be the ones needing food more than them. Family comes first."


    At that moment, we got to the front of the line. Dad pulled out our residential papers and told us to all come to the front of the line. The lady counted our family and gave us six bags. Mom passed me a bag, and I noticed something strange. The bag was extremely light.


    Mom noticed it too, and we both looked into our bags. There was a box of cereal and a couple cans of fruit and mixed vegetables along with some air masks. I remember the first time that I got the bags. They were bursting with food. Now, they were barely half filled.


    "That''s not enough food for our family," Mom said.


    "It''s all that we have," the lady said.


    "But how are we going to survive on this for a week."


    "Look, ma''am. I''m sorry, but that''s all that we have," she said. "There are other people waiting behind you."


    Mom and Dad picked up their bags and told us to come with them. We passed by the mob. I could see why they were angry. The food we got could maybe last a person half a week. The people are starving and there''s nothing that anyone can do about that.


    There were more people gathered around the town hall. There was a person on the megaphone¡ª not the same as the first time¡ª telling people to disperse. Police cars sped into the plaza, sirens blaring, but I think that just made people angrier. People started yelling about why the police cars had gas and chants broke out. "We need food. We need food."


    "Don''t look," Mom said. "Let''s go."


    Mom and Dad hustled us away from the town hall and we began walking home. Grandma was having some leg issues, so we had to walk slower. I took my eyes off from the crowd for a second, but immediately looked back. I just couldn''t not look.


    People had signs with many things. Some drew the council as pigs, sitting on piles of food. Other people drew signs asking for food. Some just wrote anti-government signs. But all of them were united on the idea that they needed food.


    We were crossing the road across from the town hall when the chants grew even louder, clashing with the person speaking on the megaphone. The whole plaza area was in chaos. There was smoke wafting around. I don''t know if it was tear gas or people burning paper or something else, but it was clear that everyone was agitated. Mom had that look on her face like she was scared and feeling brave at the same time. "Mira," she said. "Take May and Neal home and go as fast as you can. Things are getting more dangerous. I need you guys to be safe."


    "Your Dad and I will walk with Grandma and Grandpa. We''ll be ten minutes behind you."


    "What about the food bags?" Mira asked.


    "That''s a good idea. Here," Mom said. "Take ours. If you feel like you''re walking too hard, go slower. I don''t want you guys inhaling too much ash."


    "Okay," Mira said. "You sure you guys will be okay?"


    "Yes," Dad said. "Now go."


    We walked as quickly as we could while Mom and Dad walked slowly with Grandma and Grandpa. It was only two minutes after we separated that I heard some popping, like firecrackers. "Are those gunshots?" I asked.


    "Mom, Dad," Mira said. "We should head back to see if they''re okay."


    "But we''ve got to keep going," May said. "Mom literally told us to."


    "But they could be close to what''s happening. Don''t we have to make sure that they''re safe?"


    "They''re going to be alright," May said. "We''re far away from the town hall. Going back is not going to help anyone. Mom said go and we should go."


    I could hear faint sirens and car horns blaring in the background. Mira and May were still arguing about whether to go back or to trudge forwards.


    "We''ve got to go," I said.


    "What did you say?" Mira and May said at the same time.


    "We should head home," I said.


    "I told you so," May said.


    "Why?" Mira said. "We need to go back to stick together. They''re all alone by themselves¡ª"


    "Grandma and Grandpa are with them," I said.


    "Two old people don''t count. It''s dangerous out there," Mira said. "Who knows what''s going to happen to them?"


    "Going back isn''t going to help anyone," I said. "Adding two teens and a college person isn''t going to help the group."


    "But it could," Mira said. "We don''t know¡ª"


    "We need to have hope," I said. "And just trust that Mom and Dad head back."


    "It''s what they would want us to do," I said.


    Mira looked like she didn''t want to go, but we just had to. We had all of the food. So we walked quickly to our house and started packing up the food into the pantry. There were more things in there. I noticed a small bottle of iodine and a guide about volcanic ash.


    After we put the food away, we looked at the guide. Mira took some towels and put them near the windows and back door. She looked focused, like this was some math quiz, not just a menial task of wetting and placing towels. I think she was trying not to think about Mom.


    Five minutes passed, then ten. Mira began looking scared. I was too. I think even May was a bit pale. But Mom and Dad made it back after half an hour. Mira went and hugged Mom. "What happened?" she asked.


    "There was a little delay," Mom said. "But we''re fine."


    "What about the riots?" I asked.


    "It''s bad," Dad said. "The police didn''t stop them¡ª"


    "Did they shoot them?" May asked.


    "Rubber bullets only, I think," Dad replied. "They''re only getting worse. Some of the stores back in town are getting smashed and looted."


    "Are we going to get looted?" I asked.


    "No," Dad said. "We''re far away. I''ll stay up tonight to make sure everything goes alright."


    "For now," Mom added. "Let''s eat dinner. Today''s been an exhausting day. Everyone can get two cans of food. A special reward."


    We ate around the dining table awkwardly. There wasn''t much to talk about anyways. It''s like there''s so much happening, and at the same time nothing feels like it''s happening. Mom and Dad made us go to sleep early. Dad is supposed to stay up to keep watch.


    Will everything get better? We''re going to lose gas. We''re going to lose water. We''re slowly going to run out of food. Everything feels hopeless.


    But for some reason, I feel some hope. I mean Mom and Dad made it back home, so maybe the world can be better. That sounded a bit strange and now that I''m thinking about it, it doesn''t really make sense, but I don''t really know how to put it into words. I just have a strange feeling that maybe things could get not worse.

 Chapter 8, Part 1

    July 10


    I think the riots have ended, but I don''t think people have stopped being angry or scared.


    Dad went into town today. Mom wanted him to stay back, but he had to know what happened. We all did. He said that the town was pretty bad. Smashed windows, some burnt stuff, and destruction everywhere. But he said that it could''ve been much worse.


    There was a smattering of ash today. It began in the afternoon and continued till sunset. Or what I thought was sunset. The sky is always gray and dark. It''s hard to tell when the sun is rising or setting.


    Because the sky is always dark, the vegetables in the garden are dying. Mom went out to check out some of the blossoms, but most of them were wilted and the plants were drooping. She found some small zucchinis growing and a couple of green tomatoes but didn''t pick them. She wanted to wait for them to get riper, but that''s unlikely to happen.


    "Do we have any books about canning?" Mom asked.


    "I don''t know," I said. "How would I know?"


    "I mean you read a lot," she said.


    "Maybe ask Dad. He''ll know where everything is."


    "I already asked him," Mom said. "He said no, so I thought you would know."


    "Maybe you could go to the library," I said.


    "Didn''t it close down when the electricity got turned off," she said.


    "I''m sure that they''ll have some kind of system for checking out books."


    Mom thought about it. "How far is the library?"


    "One mile. Two miles tops," I said.


    "That''s too far. You''ll be breathing in too much ash."


    "I''ll wear the air masks and I won''t breathe too deeply or anything," I said. "I''ll be gone for an hour. Less than that actually."


    "I don''t know," Mom said. "Everything seems so dangerous. You saw the riots."


    "They''re over though. I just need to head out," I said.


    "Why?" Mom asked. "Haven''t you always wanted to stay at home? This should be like a dream for you."


    "I just do," I said. "Just think about it."


    There is just something about being stuck in a house with everyone that feels so suffocating. I don''t think Mom understands. I liked staying at home because it was a place of privacy, some room to breathe. But now everyone is at home and there''s no room for some fresh air.


    Today was our three can day, but everyone except May skipped dinner. I guess we felt guilty about eating three cans yesterday. Mom went to sleep early today. She said she had a headache.


    I hope she changes her mind.


    July 12


    A miracle happened today.


    I don''t know what happened. Maybe the wind direction changed, maybe there was some rain, maybe there was even some divine intervention, but the sky was extraordinarily clear today.


    I woke up early today. I had some kind of nightmare, but I don''t remember what it was all about. The first thing that I saw was the sunrise. Ever since the volcanic eruptions, it''s been dark and gray all the time. But this morning, I could see the sun peek up from over the horizon and rooftops of the houses. The sky was awash with a lavender purple. I think that the volcanic ash that''s still in the air is turning it a strange color.


    I tried waking Mira and May up, but they just shrugged me off.


    "Go back to sleep," May said. "Don''t disturb me."


    "Shh," Mira said and she turned and went to sleep.


    I don''t really know why they don''t care, but I don''t even know why I care so much about this. Maybe it''s a sign that things could get better, but that makes me even more worried though. The thought of everything returning back to normal is scary and exhilarating at the same time.


    Because the air quality was better today, Mom said that I could go to the library today. There were two conditions, however. I had to go with May and Mira. I had to be back in under an hour because if I don''t, then I''ll be stuck at home forever.


    These conditions aren''t that strict, and Mom changing her mind was a miracle too. I guess I could say that two miracles happened today.


    I walked into our bedroom to ask Mira about going to the library when I remembered what happened last time.


    "May and I are going to the library," I said. "Mom says that you have to come along, but if you don''t want to go, that''s alright."


    "No, I''m coming," she said. "It''s nice to finally be outside the house."


    I looked at the ground. "Okay. You''re not, you know, bothered by what happened last time?"


    "We both made mistakes then and now we''ve resolved them."


    "Okay. Great. I''ll see you in the kitchen in five minutes," I said and began walking out of the door.


    "Hey Neal."


    "Yeah?"


    "Do you mind if we take a little detour?"


    "For what?" I asked.


    She pulled out a stack of papers. "Well I''ve wanted to mail these letters to Leon, and I guess that with everything that''s been going on, I haven''t really had a chance to send them."


    "Yeah, I think we can do it. The post office is only five minutes away from here. Mom might get a little irked though if she finds out."


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    "That''s why we don''t tell her. Keep it our secret."


    "With May too," I said and paused. "I thought we weren''t supposed to keep secrets."


    "Only for the important stuff," she said. "This doesn''t really count."


    Before we left the house, Mom handed us the new air masks and made sure that they were tight around our noses and mouths. The weather was a bit chilly today even in the height of summer, so we wore our winter jackets.


    When we left, Mom made a big deal of holding out a stopwatch and saying that she is timing us. I told Mom that we needed an extra half an hour because the library was a solid forty-minute round trip because we were walking, and she approved of it. So we got an extra thirty minutes.


    The streets were devoid of people with garbage spilling out of abandoned trash cans. With a severe lack of gasoline, the city probably can''t even afford garbage trucks. May and Mira talked to each other. They played the "I miss" game, naming everything they miss from before: internet, freedom, boys, pizza, cookies, ice-cream, chips, boba tea. They sure missed a lot of food.


    I thought about the bucket list with Charles. I had completely forgotten about it. The issue is that I still don''t know what to fill up those last four spaces with. That''s what''s frustrating for me. I don''t know what I even want to do for the future that isn''t serious. I don''t even know what I want for my future. Whenever Charles and I meet next time, I''ll probably have to tell him that I don''t have the whole list complete, though that would be an understatement. Maybe his bucket list will give me some inspiration.


    The library was pretty empty when we arrived, but there was significantly more life than what we saw on the street. The building had some burn scars on the sides from the riots, but it was mostly untouched. There were people running the library, possibly volunteers.


    They had set up a system for checking out and returning books along with navigating the library since it was dark without power. We first had to check out a lantern. They warned us that they will check the batteries of the lanterns to make sure we aren''t stealing them. I guess some people snagged a lot of batteries.


    May held the lantern as we navigated through the dark rooms of the library. There were signs everywhere for navigation: romance, nonfiction, science fiction. Our first stop was the nonfiction section. We had to get lots of books about plants and canning and preserving food. Unfortunately, when we checked the survival sections, which included cooking, medical, ecological, and engineering books, most of the shelves were quite bare, so we had to search around the nonfiction section to find the books Mom wants.


    Mira managed to find two survival manuals hidden between Alaskan guidebooks and May found an encyclopedia for garden plants that was tucked in between books about the Harlem Renaissance. There was a small paperback guidebook about local plants hidden between books about songbirds in Pennsylvania, and Mira found a book about Native American history that has some images of fish traps while May found a fictional survival book that gave somewhat detailed explanations on how to build snares.


    The rest of the nonfiction section was boring, but there was a book that stood out to me. The guide to America''s National Parks. Those photographs were beautiful, and it was a reminder of the way things were before. I wonder what Sequoia National Park is like with all those trees caked in ash. It must look like hell.


    "We should check out the romance section," May said. "I''m so bored right now that I''d read anything."


    "What about the biography of John Muir," I said and picked it off a shelf.


    "I''m not that desperate."


    "Okay," I said. "You want some of my recommendations?"


    "Nope. Any book that you''ve read is significantly less interesting."


    "So, are we going to go and check out the books or not?" Mira asked, tapping her foot impatiently.


    "What''s the rush?" May asked. "We''ve got half an hour before we need to leave."


    "Mira has some stuff to do," I said. "We''re going to take a small detour on the way home."


    "What stuff?" May asked. She was always a bit nosy.


    "Stuff. Stuff," I said. "It isn''t your business."


    "Whatever you say," she said and went into the romance section with her lantern.


    I checked out a couple of the young adult books and chose some fantasy and science fiction ones. Normally, I''d be hesitant to check those out since I''m not a big fan of those genres, but with everything being like it is right now, having some escapism is nice.


    In the end, we checked out a bunch of the survivalist guides and plant encyclopedias. The backpack Mira was carrying was extremely heavy at that point, so we only checked out two romance novels and one science fiction one.


    "There''s always another time to get them," Mira said. "We''ll come back soon."


    The checkout system was archaic. We signed off the author, book title, and date of checkout on a spreadsheet. They said that they aren''t going to have strict return dates for the books but trusted us to bring them back sometime in the future when¡ª actually¡ª if things get better.


    We left the library. The sky was getting cloudier. I wasn''t sure if it was the dark gray smog of the ash clouds or the fluffy summer clouds. "Do you think it''s going to snow again?" May asked.


    "Let''s hope not," I said.


    "What do you think happened with the riots?" May asked.


    "People got angry and they decided to protest," I said. "And they destroyed some stuff."


    "That''s dumb," May said. "Like stupid. What''s the point of destroying the government buildings and harming the people if they are the ones providing the people with food."


    "Honestly," May continued. "They deserve to starve."


    "Don''t say that," I said. "People do stuff when they''re angry and sometimes they do things that they regret."


    "Smashing windows and stealing food is not just some stuff."


    "When people are scared, they''ll do anything to try to protect themselves and their family. Fear brings out the worst in people."


    "But that doesn''t change that they did bad stuff," she said. "Doing all that isn''t going to help their family or anything."


    "I don''t get you, May," I said. "How can you be so cynical about people and still believe that the world will get better. That everything will go back to normal."


    "I don''t get how they''re related."


    "Those people are the ones that are going to build up the world again. The ones that will make the world better."


    "Whatever," May said. "Where are we going anyways?"


    "The post office," Mira said.


    "I thought the mail doesn''t work anymore."


    "Let''s hope that it works," Mira said.


    We walked into the post office. Someone was manning it, and they took her letters. They said that the postage system wasn''t working right now, so the letters might be sent a couple of weeks late, but Mira said that it was okay. When we walked out, May turned towards Mira. "Were those for your boyfriend?"


    "Yeah," she said. "I made them in my free time."


    "What does he look like?" May asked.


    "I don''t have my phone with me," Mira said.


    "You guys never printed out any pictures?"


    "No, I had some in my dorm room, but I don''t think my college is open," she said. "It''s too far away to even walk or bike too."


    "We can always charge your phone," May said. "Remember those eight solar panel chargers that we got from that camping store."


    "No, those only work when the sun is actually out. There''s no long-term storage for them."


    "That''s too bad," May said. "Is he hot though?"


    "Yeah," Mira said.


    "So he''s ugly then," May concluded.


    "How''d you even get to that conclusion?" I asked and scoffed.


    "She wasn''t very interested in talking about how he looked, so he''s ugly."


    "No," Mira said. "He''s not ugly. He''s handsome, like too handsome for me."


    "It''s just that I feel like there''s more to him than just his looks you know," she said. "He''s kind and great and everything else that''s good."


    "That sounded like it came out of a cheesy romantic movie," I said. "Sorry."


    "No, that''s fine," Mira said and laughed. "There are just some things about life that are cliched messes."


    "Will we ever get to meet him?" May asked. "I want to judge him for myself."


    "I don''t know," Mira said and quietly added. "Maybe when things get better."


    We walked in silence after that. I could see that Mira was thinking about him at that moment, and I knew that he meant a lot to her. Is this what love is? I don''t know, but it might be what hope is. Just waiting and hoping that everything will turn out better.


    The worst thing about the ash being gone is that the Moon is shining bright in the sky, the lighthouse in a dark sea of stars. And when I look at it, I can see everything that has happened so far. All the tidal tsunamis, all the volcanic eruptions, all the lives of every single person on this planet changing. And it''s all because of that rock in the sky.


    But maybe it''s a symbol of hope. Maybe the volcanic eruptions might be stopping or at least slowing down. Maybe people''s lives will be saved and maybe Mira will be able to see her boyfriend and maybe May will be able to go out with friends and maybe Mom and Dad won''t need to worry every day. Maybe everything might return back to normal or at least some type of normal.

 Chapter 8, Part 2

    July 13


    The ash came back today. I think it''s because it''s Wednesday the 13th.


    One joyous day of sun and now the skies are covered back in clouds. I only found out that the ash returned at noon. There was heavy fog this morning, and the swirling mist was almost hypnotizing. Because of the fog, no one really wanted to get out of bed. The skies were even darker than usual, and everyone just wanted to sleep.


    "Do you think we''ll ever see the sun again?" I asked May.


    "Probably," she said.


    "You remember that book we read in middle school? The one about Venus and the Sun."


    "No," she said. "I don''t remember much from middle school."


    "You know, the one about the kids that couldn''t see the Sun on Venus until one day it came out."


    "Kinda. It sounds vaguely familiar."


    "Do you think we''re going to be like them? Never able to see the Sun again."


    "No," she said. "The Sun will come out. It''s not going to be cloudy forever. I''m sure there''s somewhere in the world where the sun is shining."


    "But the ash¡ª"


    "It''s the Sun. And it''s powerful enough to come out again."


    The fog faded away when we were eating, but the Sun didn''t come out and the sky was still dark and gray. May was wrong today. Hopefully she''s right tomorrow.


    July 14


    I got another chance to go out today.


    I guess Mom and everyone have all just been so sick of being stuck at home that we all just wanted to head out. We had to be safe, of course. Air masks on at all times. No going outside a two mile radius of the house without telling her and Dad. You can only be out for an hour before you have to go back indoors.


    I left the house around mid-afternoon. Mira and May were planning something together to do something. Honestly, I had no idea, so I didn''t really bother them.


    "Where are you going?" Mom asked.


    "Just to the garden," I replied.


    "The community one?"


    "Yeah. The one I worked at during the summer."


    "Aren''t the gardens all dead because of all the ash," she said. "Even our own garden is dying."


    "I don''t know," I said and shrugged. "I just want to check it out."


    "Only an hour," Mom said. "You better be back by then. Otherwise you''ll be grounded for the rest of your life."


    I pulled the air mask right to my face and adjusted it. The sky was gray today, but it''s always gray and the ash doesn''t seem that bad. I think my lungs are getting used to the smoggy air. I wonder how people with asthma are dealing with this. It must be awful.


    Lately I''ve been wondering a lot about other people. I guess because I''ve been stuck at home for so long that there''s not much else to do but imagine and dream. The neighborhood has been getting quieter and quieter. I haven''t seen a car or anything in the last couple of days. Everyone is just holed up in their homes or wherever and just weathering this storm for however long it''ll last.


    When I walked into the garden, I saw someone leaning over the plants with a watering can. I didn''t expect to see anyone there. I went just to see if the plants and crops were doing all right. But the person watering the plants seemed awfully familiar.


    "Charles?"


    He turned around and faced me. "Neal? I haven''t seen you for about two weeks."


    "Yeah," I said. "My mom was worried about all the ash stuff. What are you doing here?"


    "Watering the plants. No one has been here since the ash snows, and all of our hard work is just withering away."


    "But aren''t the plants going to die anyways," I said. "The ash is blocking the sunlight."


    "But not all of it," he said. "I read a book about a volcanic erupt¡ª"


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    "When did you become an expert in volcanology?"


    "I had a lot of free time," he said. "The point is that this type of situation happened in the past before. A supervolcano erupted and spread ash across the whole world and causing mass famine-"


    "How does this even help your point?"


    "The crops that were produced were tiny and insufficient to feed large amounts of people," he said. "But the important thing is that the crops did not die. They just grew a little less. That''s why we''ve gotta keep watering them."


    "But it''s not just one super volcano. We''ve got hundreds of them erupting everywhere all the time."


    Charles looked down and sighed. "Just have a little faith. Will you?"


    "Fine," I said and added. "Just for you."


    So we kneeled down and pulled out weeds and filled watering cans from the leaky faucet by the shed. When he was pulling out one particularly obnoxious dandelion, Charles turned towards me. "Have you thought about the bucket list?"


    "I have, in fact."


    "So... What are the things that you want to do this summer?"


    "I''m not telling you anything unless you tell me your whole list."


    "I''ll do it," Charles said. "I''m not bluffing."


    "Then say it."


    There was a small moment of silence.


    "I''m not going to," he said. "I''m making a conscious choice to not do this and expose the fact that you probably haven''t thought about it since we last met."


    "I think you haven''t thought about it either," I retorted.


    "Here''s what we are going to do. We are going to go down our bucket list and we take turns trying to help each other do these things, whatever they may be."


    "Seems fine," I said.


    "So..." Charles said and motioned with his arm.


    "What?"


    "Are you going to say your first thing?"


    "Not today," I said. "We wasted too much time on this gardening thing."


    "You''re stalling," he said. "You don''t even know what you want to do first."


    "Fine," I said. "I want you to do something dumb."


    "What?" he said. "I''m ready for anything."


    "I don''t know," I said.


    "Well, figure it out by next time."


    "I don''t even know when we''re going to meet next," I said. "My mom is really strict about going outside because of all this ash."


    "Is this why you''re leaving soon?"


    "Yeah," I said. "One hour outside otherwise I get grounded for life."


    "Well you better head home soon," Charles said. "I''ll be here on Wednesdays and Fridays to keep the plants alive."


    "What about meeting at your house?"


    "My parents are pretty paranoid with everything going on," Charles said. "I don''t think it''s such a good idea."


    "Okay," I said. "My time is running out. I guess I''ll see you next week."


    "You better figure it out. No more delays!" he said.


    "I''ll try my best," I said.


    Charles wanted to stay at the garden longer, so I left without him and thought about the wish list. What is something dumb that I could make him do? Just writing this out feels a bit childish and petty, but I guess that''s what this summer is for. One last chance to be young before adult life catches up with you.


    We got a flyer from the city council. I was out when they taped the paper on the door. After the riots, they wanted to hold a town hall to have more transparency about their food distribution and to talk about how the rest of summer and winter will proceed.


    It''s happening on Saturday, and anyone who wants food has to attend. That''s a smart way to make people actually come and listen. Mom is worried that with so many people, the crowds will get rowdy, and another riot will break out, but Dad told her that they''ll have lots of security and police there. Plus, we''ll need the food for the future.


    July 15


    Mom made us do the dishes today.


    I guess she just got tired of doing them for us almost every day, and because we weren''t doing anything useful, she decided to put us to work.


    I said that I''d dry the dishes. Washing food covered plates seems disgusting. But May and Mira wanted that too. I guess no one really likes touching wet dishes. I wonder how Mom dealt with all of this every single day.


    We did rock-paper-scissors to decide which two people were going to get tasked with washing the dishes. Thankfully, I won the first round with my rock against both of their scissors. "Why don''t we make Grandma and Grandpa do the dishes," May grumbled.


    "Because they''re old," Mira said.


    "Just because they''re old doesn''t mean that they''re incapable of doing anything."


    "Don''t let the old people work. Just do it."


    "You sound like Mom," May said.


    "Is that bad?" I asked.


    "It''s annoying," May said.


    "Less talking and more working," Mom yelled from her bedroom.


    "Yes, sir," May said. "The dictator commands and we do."


    So we washed and dried the dishes for a solid half an hour. It was a very boring half an hour. Most of today was boring. Mom and Dad were talking about the town hall tomorrow. I don''t think they''ve ever been this tense since the small riot on the day of the first food handout. Normally, Mom and Dad would be arguing over summer vacation plans or trying to wrangle all of us together to go to the beach. Look at how the times have changed.


    "Should we bring my parents?" Mom asked.


    "Is your mother''s leg doing better?"


    "I think it was a cramp. She says that she''s fine, but I don''t know."


    "She''s tough," Dad said. "We have to bring everyone. We need to¡ª"


    "¡ªget the food," Mom said. "You''ve been going off like a broken record about this."


    "Sorry," Dad said. "It''s just that it''s important."


    "I know," Mom said. "So we''re staying close to the door for the town hall?"


    "Stick together and stick near the entrance. If anything goes wrong inside, we''ll be able to escape."


    "But what about outside," Mom said. "Someone might bring a gun or who knows what and then..."


    "I know," Dad said. "But what else can we do? If we stick to the front, if anything goes wrong, we''ll be stuck behind hordes of people. Staying in the middle is the worst. The only option is sticking to the back. If anything feels off, we''ll leave."


    "Do you think they''ll tell us when we''re getting electricity back?"


    "It''s not happening," Dad said. "The whole world is collapsing around us. We''ll be lucky if they extend the natural gas cutoff to the start of winter. I can only pray that they don''t cut off the water."


    "They can''t do that," Mom said. "They''re probably going to tell us during the town hall."


    "Whatever month they say, take it and subtract it by three months. They don''t want us to panic, so they''ll lie about it. If they say that we might run out of water in January, our taps will run dry by the end of October."


    It''s terrifying to think of losing access to water. No more showering, no more cleaning dishes, no more water for just drinking. But October feels so far away, and we don''t even know if we''re going to lose water that early. Hopefully, we won''t lose it that early.

 Chapter 8, Part 3

    July 16


    The meeting was at two in the afternoon, so Mom and Dad grabbed everyone at one, so we''d arrive there in time. At one in the afternoon in the middle of summer, it was in the mid-fifties. That''s what we''d normally see in the middle of autumn. I can''t imagine what winter will be like.


    The town was desolate. There were some charred remains of cars, and some of the glass had been shattered, but it looks like someone has been cleaning it up, sweeping all the glass to the sidewalks and laying out bright orange cones. But as we approached city hall, there seemed to be more people. Lots of more people. There were at least a hundred waiting outside to enter and who knows how many more inside.


    Mom and Dad were wary as we stepped in line. I think they were worried about other people bringing guns or knives or other weapons. "Remember to stick together," Mom said. "If anything goes wrong, find each other first."


    "How long do you think it''s going to take?" May asked.


    "At least an hour," Dad said. "People are going to be asking questions: water, heating, food, gasoline, electricity."


    "Do you guys actually think something bad is going to happen though?" I asked.


    "No," Mira said. "I can see that they''re doing metal detector checks and searching through everyone''s belongings. No gun or knife will ever be able to make it through."


    Mom piped in. "I saw somewhere that people can manufacture plastic guns usi¡ª"


    "Mom," May said. "Sometimes you watch too much TV."


    "I don''t even know why someone would bring a gun," I added. "I mean I get the whole sense of protection thing, but like, doesn''t that put everyone else in danger."


    "When people are scared, they''ll do anything to protect their family," Dad said. "It doesn''t matter if it''s logical or not, a gun gives people a sense of safeness, and that''s what they''re going to listen to."


    The security guard by the door made us take off our jackets and go through the metal detectors. If we had any weapons, they''d tag them and leave them off to the side for you to pick up after the town hall was over. I saw the stacks of guns. There weren''t as many as I expected¡ª roughly twenty or so small pistols¡ª but that''s still a lot.


    The room was packed. There were some volunteers unfolding and arranging chairs, cramming them together to fit as many people as they could. Mira and May managed to snag some seats in the back, but Mom, Dad, and I had to stand with Grandma and Grandpa. I spotted Charles in the crowd and waved to him.


    He waved back and weaved through the crowd to get to me.


    "You''re here," he said.


    "And you''re here too," I replied. "Are you ready to watch the town hall?"


    "Yeah. But we''re mostly here for the food."


    "How many people do you think would be here if no one got bribed?"


    "Probably two people, maybe three," he said. "You seem like the type of person that''d be there."


    "I don''t know if that was an insult or a compliment."


    "Think of it as both," he said. "Anyway, you probably should get back to your family. The whole thing seems to be starting."


    "I''ll see you next week."


    "You better," he said. "I''m still waiting on your first wish."


    I went back to Mom and Dad. They managed to find one more seat, so Grandma and Grandpa could take the first two while Mira and May shared the third.


    A man walked onto the stage. I believed that he was our mayor, but I wasn''t sure what his name was. He stepped up to the podium and adjusted the microphone. The whole place was silent because everyone wanted to know what he was going to say.


    "We''re in dark times now. There is no denying it. Many of our families were affected by the floods and many of us had people close to us who passed away because of this disaster."


    "I understand your fear. It will be tempting to give into it, especially when hope is difficult to find. But we mustn''t give into it," he said. "Last week, there were massive demonstrations that quickly turned violent. Many people were hurt, including young children and the elderly."


    "This is not who we are. We must be stronger than to give into fear and anger, to succumb to these counterproductive attitudes. People say that disaster brings out the best and worst in people. I want this to bring out the best. We must stay strong as a community. We must help each other and those in need. We must shine a light on fear and anger and embrace hope. Only then can we rebuild our society and our humanity together."


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    There was a scattered applause. The speech was pretty impressive, and in any other circumstance, he would have received a standing ovation. But today, everyone was too scared and worried that his message of hope just rang hollow.


    "So I''ve set up a donation box," he added. "I know that many of you have hoarded food and other supplies. But some of us have not been so fortunate. Donating food will be a step in the right direction in helping all of our community prosper. Remember, we must embrace hope and reject fear."


    "Now I will be taking questions."


    A dozen hands shot up. He picked on a random person.


    "When will the electricity be back?"


    "We don''t have a timeline for that yet. Much of the infrastructure to generate electricity has been damaged, so we are still coordinating with the state to resolve this issue," he said. "For now, only essential locations will receive electricity. The hospital, fire station, and police station will all be up and running."


    "And the mayor''s house," someone in front of me grumbled. "I heard that his house still has power."


    The mayor pointed to another person. "Will we be losing natural gas?"


    "Not in the near future."


    "What''s that supposed to mean? Are we going to lose heating or not? Answer the question."


    "Yeah!" someone else in the audience shouted. "What are you trying to hide?"


    "The situation right now is extremely volatile," he said. "I cannot make guarantees about when we are going or not going to lose gas."


    "What about water?" an old woman in the front asked.


    "As far as I can tell, we are not losing water anytime soon," he said.


    "So you don''t know?" a man in the audience shouted. "Do you know anything? Because all I''m hearing is I don''t know."


    Our mayor was floundering, and I felt bad for him. With everything going on and the world being in total chaos, his job is pretty hard.


    "School?" another woman said. "My kids are going to high school. Will they be open?"


    "Yes," the mayor said, probably grateful that someone brought that up. There were some groans in the audience. "School will continue as usual, beginning in mid-August."


    "But how are our kids going to read without electricity?"


    "We will be preparing lanterns and flashlights for students in the classroom. Furthermore, all online curriculum will be adjusted so that we will be able to do it without computers or the internet."


    He fielded a couple more questions about electricity, the internet, and rebuilding the coastline before calling it quits. Some people shouted at him when he left the stage since there were a lot more people still raising their hands. But I don''t think there was anything more he could offer them.


    The food distribution came after, and it was complete chaos. People practically jumped on the people giving out the food. I did what Mom and Dad told me to do, which was stick with my family and proceed carefully. The city council had to bring police officers and security guards in to sort out the mess.


    After a solid half an hour of people pushing each other and rushing towards the food, some semblance of organization appeared. Everyone gathered into a loose line that snaked around the room. When we got our food, I looked into it. There were about ten cans of food inside, a far cry from the amount of food in the beginning.


    "There''s nothing in here," I said.


    "Shh," Mom said. "We''ll discuss this later once we''re out of here."


    "No one''s going to jump us," May said. "People aren''t that stupid."


    "People made stupid decisions when they''re scared or angry. And looking at the room right now, they are definitely scared and angry."


    "I agree with your mom," Dad said. "We can talk about this when we get home. I don''t want anyone talking about food in the plaza. People have guns. It''s not safe."


    We hustled out of the building and crossed the street before heading back home. It began snowing ash, a little sprinkle of dust that blanketed the streets a dark gray. Another volcano must''ve erupted up north. Mom made sure that we all were wearing our ash masks correctly.


    It was dark when we reached our house. I wasn''t sure if it was because of the ash storm or the sunset or a combination of both, but it felt like the middle of the night. It was pitch black inside, but nobody dared to turn on the lamps in our house.


    "It''s too dangerous," Dad said. "We don''t want to become a target, especially because everyone is so angry."


    But we couldn''t see anything without the lamp, so we turned one on to the lowest dimness and ate cold beans from our food bag.


    "So what are we going to do about the food situation?" I asked.


    "We''re running out of food," Dad said. "I don''t want to use our stockpiles too heavily until the food bags run out."


    "So we''re going to have to eat less food."


    "But I''m always hungry," May said.


    "Maybe your dad and I can eat one can on Sundays," Mom said and nudged Dad. "You''ve always wanted to start fasting."


    "No," Dad said. "We need to be strong. I''d recommend cutting down from three cans to two every Sunday and Wednesday for the time being."


    "But tomorrow is literally Sunday. That''s so unfair," May said.


    "Tomorrow is our last three can day," Dad said. "From tomorrow onwards, two cans every day."


    He continued. "And because of the natural gas situation, we might need to start gathering kindling and firewood for winter ahead. It''s the middle of summer and temperatures are dropping every day. We need to prepare for the worst, a winter with no heating except for the fireplace."


    "But the ash outside," Mom said. "It''s not good for the kids."


    "Maybe your grandparents can help," Dad said. "We can have rotating shifts. Each person works outside for an hour or so."


    "But where are we going to store the firewood," Mira asked. "No one wants to sleep near branches and they''re going to bring in lots of insects."


    "We''ll store them in the garage," Dad said. "Neal and I will push out the car tomorrow."


    "Why me?" I asked.


    "Just do it," Mom said. "So we''re all good for tomorrow."


    "Yes sir," May said.


    Mom gave her a withering glance, and we finished our cans in a calm silence.


    Looking back to last month, everything that I wrote feels hopelessly naive. We''ve still got a lot of food in the pantry, but every day it seems to be dwindling like the world around me. The radio has gone silent¡ª except for the list of the dead from the government¡ª and all my whole world is just my house and a couple of other places.

 Chapter 9, Part 1

    July 17


    First day of gathering kindling, and it turns out that we weren''t the only ones who thought about that.


    Dad took me, Mira, and May out to the woods. May wheeled a small wagon, so it''d be easier for us to bring all the wood that we needed back. Dad brought a small hatchet that we bought a couple years back for a camping trip. The blade was a bit rusted, but it was usable. "Okay, kids," Dad said when we arrived there. "Start gathering wood. Make sure to avoid poison ivy. Also, don''t get any green stuff. It''s not good for fires."


    "What about poison oak?" I asked.


    "Just don''t get anything poisonous," Dad said.


    "How are we supposed to know what''s poisonous and what isn''t?" May grumbled.


    "Look at other people," Dad said. "Next time we can bring a plant guide."


    Mira and I partnered with each other while Dad and May did so too. We took the plastic bags while they took the hatchet and wagon. There were lots of people wandering the woods, gathering small branches and twigs. I saw a group of men and women working together to saw down a large sycamore tree.


    "Should I feel bad that we''re causing climate change?" I asked.


    "No," Mira said. "All the volcanoes erupting are some crude geoengineering."


    There was an awkward pause, and then, I remembered about our little library detour.


    "So..." I said. "Did you hear back from the letters?"


    "I, I haven''t really checked," Mira said.


    "Oh, yeah," I said. "I thought the mail people might have delivered it to our house."


    "No," Mira said. "With no gasoline, no mail delivery."


    "Isn''t mail an essential service?"


    "Not according to our mayor."


    "Maybe we can go to the post office," I suggested.


    "I don''t know if I want to," Mira said.


    "Why not?" I asked.


    "What if he never responded?" she asked. "Like the letter got sent, but he just never bothered to respond."


    "Look," I said. "I know you care about him, even though I''ve never met him before, and he must also care a lot about you, so people who, you know, care for each other that much wouldn''t not respond."


    "I hope you''re right," she said.


    "I know I''m right."


    We talked about other stuff and picked up branches from the ground. The leaves on the trees were browning like it was autumn, and some of the young kids were playing with the leaves, kicking up clouds of ash. We had our air masks on, but some others didn''t, and they coughed loudly enough to scare the birds away.


    "Head''s up!" someone shouted, and we watched as a tree fell down. They took a chainsaw and divided up the trunk into small chunks for everyone who helped, leaving the branches behind for everyone else.


    "You want to try breaking it," Mira asked as we tried to snap a thick branch in half.


    "I''ll hold one end in place, and then you should stomp on the other end."


    We tried that, and it did not work out. I nearly got smacked in the face with the branch. Luckily, Dad and May had found us, and Dad''s hatchet quickly dismembered the branch into smaller parts that would fit in our bag. We had worked for a solid two hours before heading back. Dad''s whole rotating shifts plan did not work out.


    Mom managed to push out the car with the help of Grandma and Grandpa. And Dad said that he''d take care of the wood and let us rest. May went for a shower and disappeared in the bathroom while Mira went to sleep, and I collapsed on the couch.


    Tomorrow is going to be a terrible day for my muscles.


    July 18


    Help me!


    I feel like I''m dying.


    July 20


    A couple days of rest does wonders for your body.


    No more wood gathering until tomorrow at least. Dad is having some back troubles. Our stash seemed large on the day we gathered it, but now, looking at it, it''s a little sad. Dad cleared out the whole garage to make space for the wood, and whatever we gathered is only taking up a small corner of it.


    Dad went outside to talk to the Hunters today. They had a massive RV parked in front of their house, and they were quickly packing boxes and wrapped parcels into it.


    "You guys leaving?" Dad asked.


    "Yeah," Mr. Hunter said. "This town is running out of food, and there has been no electricity for a solid month now."


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    Mrs. Hunter put down a box and chimed in. "I''ve got family in Oklahoma," she said. "It''s a long drive, but it''ll all be worth it. People say that things are better in the South: the skies are clearer, the weather warmer. They''ve got power too."


    "Shouldn''t we be a bit more cautious," Dad said. "I mean that sounds great, but isn''t it a little too good to be true?"


    "It''s our only hope," Mr. Hunter said. "Things are only going to get worse from here onwards."


    "Things aren''t that bad here," Dad said. "I mean we''ve lost electricity, but the weather is fine, and you''ve got a house here¡ª"


    "Look," Mrs. Hunter said. "I appreciate how much you want us to stay but look around you. The neighborhood is deserted. The Guptas left weeks ago along with the Parks and Kims and almost everyone else."


    "What my wife means to tell you is that there is nothing left here for us," Mr. Hunter said. "You''ve been a great neighbor to us. You''re the head of our homeowner''s association. We can''t pack anything, so whatever is left is yours to take."


    "Are you sure that I can''t convince you guys to stay?"


    "No," Mrs. Hunter said. "Our minds are long made up."


    "Well," Dad said. "I wish you a safe journey out east."


    And then they left, driving off into the unknown, kicking up a blizzard of ash. And our neighborhood got even quieter. "Do you think they''ll ever come back?" I asked Dad.


    "I don''t know," was all he said.


    July 22


    Mom allowed me to go out again.


    May wanted to go and check out the Hunter''s house to see if there was anything useful lying around, but Dad told her that she couldn''t. "They''ve only left for one day," he said. "There''s plenty of time for them to change their minds. And plus, we don''t know what type of message that''ll send to our neighbors, breaking into our next-door neighbor''s house."


    "We''re not even breaking into it," May said. "They gave us the key. And it''s not like we even have any neighbors around anymore that are snooping on us."


    "Doesn''t matter," Dad said. "No going into their house until I say so."


    May grumbled a little, but she didn''t push Dad. Everyone seemed pretty tense lately. The threat of dying from starvation or hypothermia is on everyone''s minds. Dad started cleaning up the fireplace in our living room to prepare for when we run out of natural gas. We haven''t used it ever in our lives, as far as I remember (maybe we used it when I was younger, but I''m not really sure).


    Grandma and Grandpa went into the garden and tried to salvage whatever was left under the ashes. With everything going on and all the ash storms, nobody has really bothered to clean up the garden or even water it, so most of the plants were wilted and dying. But still, they managed to get some small zucchinis and green tomatoes out of the dying plants. There were a couple mini-eggplants and a handful of strawberries left, but that was it. This felt like a solid waste of five hundred bucks.


    Mom and Mira are also setting up some kind of pseudo-greenhouse in the garage. We''ve got a lot of spare batteries from when the solar panels were working, and a couple of old desk lamps that can run on these batteries. We''ve got some potted herbs, green onion, and garlic plants that have been just lying around in the house. They''re not dying, probably because they''re accustomed to low light conditions, so Mom and Mira wanted to try and grow them.


    "Should we can or fry the zucchinis?" Mom asked.


    "Do you even know how to can them?" I replied.


    "I''m sure we can figure it out," Mira said. "But I prefer them fried."


    "Fried it is," Mom said. "Do you want some?"


    "No," I said. "Zucchini is pretty gross."


    "Neal," she said and put her serious face on. "You know we''re not going to have the luxury of eating whatever we want if things keep going the way they are."


    "I know," I said. "Just not today."


    "I need to go out now," I continued. "I''ll be back in an hour."


    "To where?" Mom asked.


    "Just the garden," I replied. "Charles is going to be there."


    "Be safe," Mom said. "Be here in an hour or¡ª"


    "I''ll be grounded for life," I said. "I know."


    While I was walking to the garden, I started to notice the silence. The streets should be filled with people heading to the beaches, seagulls cawing incessantly, cars rumbling up and down the streets.


    But now, there''s nothing, just empty silence. The people have moved south because it''s supposed to be better there. The seagulls are gone, probably migrating south, where the weather is a little warmer. The cars moved with the people, most of them are in the south. It seems like everything has gone south.


    I saw Charles in the garden. "You''re still working on fixing up the garden?" I asked.


    "Yeah," he said. "Hey, look at this."


    He pointed at a sad looking tomato blossom. "See, my efforts are working."


    "It looks depressing."


    "Just making my best out of a not great situation," he said. "You know, making lemonade out of lemons."


    "So you''re saying that lemons are bad," I said.


    "Yeah, basically," he said. "They''re sour and pretty nasty. Why are we even talking about lemons?"


    "I don''t know," I said. "Just because we can."


    He went back down to examine a couple of the plants. They were a little shriveled and shrunken. "How often are you out here?" I asked.


    "A couple times a week," he said.


    "Like two times? Or more?"


    "Most days I''m here," he replied.


    "That''s not good for your lungs," I said. "Breathing all that ash in."


    "I''m wearing a mask though. I''ll be fine."


    "You should stay inside more often. Why are you even out here most days?"


    "I just want this to work," he said and stood up. "By the way, what''s your first bucket list wish item?"


    "I want you to stop coming out here every single day," I said.


    "C''mon," he said. "That''s just not fair. How are you even going to enforce it?"


    "I trust that you''ll keep your part of the bucket list just like I did," I said.


    "But the plants will die if I don''t come out here often," he said.


    "Then let me take half of your gardening days for you. And you can stay at home and not be outside."


    "So your first wish is that you want to do more work," he said. "That''s fine by me. The only day that I don''t come here is Saturday. So which days do you want to take?"


    "I''ll do Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays and we can both do Fridays."


    "No," he said. "You''re working 3 and a half days while I''m working 2 and a half. I''ll take Thursday."


    "We''ll trade Thursday every other week."


    "Nope," he said. "I''m keeping it, and that''s the end of discussion."


    So then we got to work, moving the soil around and trying to clear it of ash, and pulling out the small, hardy weeds that managed to sprout from the soil. It was cold, hard work. By the time that I had finished fixing up my second large planter, I realized that it was time to leave.


    "I think it has been an hour now," I said. "I need to get back home. Remember, it''s your turn for the bucket list now. Come up with something good."


    I walked away, but when I looked back, I saw Charles sitting on the edge of the planter box looking down and breathing heavily. Something just doesn''t seem right with him, but I don''t know what.


    As I walked home, I realized that I had no idea what else I was supposed to do in the garden. I knew there was a water faucet next to the shed and a watering pail lying around, but was there anything else to do? I was going to turn around, but Mom''s warning replayed in my head. She was serious about this, so I went back home. I''ll probably figure it out later.


    I wonder why Charles is so fixated with the garden. I''m pretty sure that most of the plants growing in it are eventually going to die by the time the first frost comes, which looks like it''s getting sooner and sooner every day, or just die from the lack of sunlight. It seems like an awfully large amount of work to maintain something that is bound to fail.


    But there is some part of me that doesn''t necessarily support his decision but understands it. It''s his way of coping and holding onto hope in these dark times (literally).

 Chapter 9, Part 2

    July 23


    Pretty tame day for the food distribution. After last week''s council meeting and the anger in the room, I expected more chaos. I guess the best of people were brought out with a nice inspirational speech.


    The rations are getting smaller. Last week, I counted ten cans in the bag. This week, there were only eight cans and two of mine were measly cans of tuna and spam, less than half the size of the cans of string beans and corn. We''re really running out of food. I wonder when the food distribution is going to stop.


    I saw May adjusting the spreadsheet, erasing and rewriting numbers. "What are you doing?" I asked.


    "You know what I''m doing," she said. "Don''t play dumb."


    "You can''t keep doing this," I said. "Mom and Dad are going to keep closer track of the food supplies, and they''ll find out."


    "I''m so hungry all the time¡ª"


    "We all are," I said.


    "Two cans per day are ridiculous," she said. "And I''m tired all the time."


    "I''m not taking as many as before," she continued. "Just one extra can a week. One can won''t make any difference in our lives."


    "Just please stop¡ª"


    "What are guys talking about stopping?" Mira asked and looked down on us.


    I couldn''t think of an excuse, but May whipped out a quick response. "We were just talking about whether we should revisit the beach. I think Neal''s pretty annoyed by my nagging."


    "Why don''t you run that idea by Mom?"


    "Nah," May said and left the room. "You know Mom. She''s extra paranoid about everything. It''s a dumb idea anyways."


    "So what was that all about?" Mira asked.


    "It''s nothing," I replied.


    "And that''s the truth?"


    "Yeah," I said. "Nothing important."


    I didn''t lie to her. Mira knowing that May was taking just one can every week was not important for her or significant for these circumstances. It was a partial truth, but just thinking about it, I feel like it''s closer to a lie rather than the unfiltered truth that we promised to each other.


    July 24


    Mom and Dad had a big freakout this morning, and we''ve got a guest sleeping on the couch in the living room.


    Sometime in the morning, maybe around ten, a dark blue van pulled into our driveway. I was reading the fantasy novel that I checked out a week ago from the library while staring off into the distance. The book I was reading just didn''t capture my attention. Nothing seemed to capture my attention at that point, except for a flash of blue outside the window.


    "Mom? Dad? I think there''s someone in our driveway."


    "Are they armed?" Dad asked and rushed towards the window to peer outside.


    "They''re in their car," I said. "How am I supposed to tell if they were armed or not armed?"


    Dad rushing to the window brought Mom and May to the front door. Everyone was pretty much staring at whoever was in the car. It was the first new (and non-gray) thing that showed up.


    "That''s why they invented glasses," May said. "So that you can use your eyeballs and look around."


    "Kids," Mom said. "Get away from the window. They could be dangerous."


    "Why would anyone target our house only, out of the thousands of houses in our city," May remarked.


    The figure in the car was desperately trying to find something in the compartment that''s in front of the passenger seat, moving their hands quickly and seemed visibly frustrated.


    "I think they''re fumbling with something," I said.


    "It''s a gun," Dad said and ran to the garage. "I''m going to get the hatchet."


    "Isn''t that an overreaction," May said. "Maybe they''re grabbing some cans for food. They could be sent by the city council."


    "No one would put cans in that compartment," Mom said. "They''d stick it in the trunk. Common sense."


    "Some people lack common sense," May retorted. "Especially this person. Who would drive a car? That would mean you have gas, and that will make you a target."


    "Hey!" I said. "Stop repeating what I said."


    "Are you high or something? You never said that."


    "I said that to you for your friend''s birthday party. If you use the hair curler, everyone will know that we have electricity."


    "That was different," she said. "Everyone had electricity back then."


    "Whatever you say," I said.


    "What did I miss?" Dad said when he returned, panting.


    "Nothing," I said. "They''re still looking for whatever they''re looking for."


    "For a robber, they''re awfully ineffective," Mom said.


    "Should I go out and confront them," Dad said. "With this?"


    "No!" Mom, May, and I said though May added. "That would be pretty funny."


    "It''s safer in the house," Mom said. "If they had a gun, they''d shoot you before you could even raise that sad hatchet."


    "So we''re going to wait," I said, and we waited for a solid three minutes before the guy actually came out of the car.


    "He''s out," May said and sarcastically. "Oh, no. Let''s run away. Ahh."


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    There was a soft knock on the door. Mom was too scared to peer through the door''s peephole.


    "Kids," Mom said. "I want you to go into the kitchen and stay away from the door and let the adults deal with this."


    "If we don''t make it," Dad said. "Then run."


    So May and I went into the kitchen and laid low, though we peered from behind the door. We heard a knock, and Dad opened the door.


    There was a guy at the door, a white guy with short brown hair and a scruffy beard wearing clothes that were so clean that they were probably washed recently. He was pretty handsome and very confused. Dad held the hatchet and stood in front of the doorway. "What do you want?" Dad said and gripped the hatchet.


    The guy''s face turned pale white. "Does Mira live here?"


    "Mira," Mom said. "Someone is looking for you."


    There was no movement in the hallway.


    "I think she''s still sleeping," May said.


    "I''ll go wake her up," I said and walked to our bedroom.


    "Mira, there''s someone waiting for you," I said.


    "Neal," she said and yawned. "Stop messing with me. This is a ploy to wake me up isn''t it. What do you not want to do: dishes or laundry?"


    "It''d be nice if you actually trusted me," I said. "There''s someone at the door looking for you. White guy, brown hair with a kinda beard. Does that ring any bells?"


    Mira sprang out of bed. "My hair doesn''t look too terrible, right?"


    "It has had better days," I said. "Just hurry up. I think Dad might kill him."


    I went back into the kitchen and laid low. "Has Dad murdered him?"


    "No," May said. "No blood spilled yet. Dad''s just interrogating him. Just the usual ''I have to be sure that you aren''t a secret serial killer that is going to abduct my daughter and dismember her brutally'' talk that all movie dads give."


    "Great!" I said. "Mira''s going to be out soon to sort this out hopefully."


    Mira ran out of her room and patted down any strands of hair floating around and walked to the door.


    "Mira?" the guy said.


    "Leon," she said. He moved past Dad and they hugged. Dad looked shocked, more angry than fainting shock, while Mom looked on awkwardly with a tinge of happiness and confusion.


    "I''ve missed you," she said.


    "Me too," he said. "I got your letters¡ª"


    "They actually delivered!" Mira exclaimed.


    "Yeah, postage still works," he replied. "There are so many things I want to tell you. My family is leaving California for New Mexico in two weeks, and I want you to come with us."


    He got down on his knees and pulled out a ring box, which was why he was fumbling with something in the car. "Will you marry me?"


    That was a bit sudden.


    Everyone gasped. Dad''s jaw dropped. I almost laughed. This felt like something that''d happen in the movies¡ª not real life. But then again, a lot of things that happen in the movies do happen in real life. People draw inspiration from lots of different places.


    Mira looked flustered, happy but very confused. "I''m not sure if this is the right time. I mean I''d like to, but this all feels a little sudden."


    "Oh," he said and looked embarrassed. "That''s, that''s alright."


    "Have you got a place to stay?" she asked.


    "My parents are at a relative''s place," he said. "It''s about twenty miles north of here, pretty close by."


    "That''s far," she said. "You''re staying at our house."


    "Will your parents be alright with that?" he said and glanced at Dad still holding the hatchet.


    "Yeah," Mira said. "Neal, May. You guys can come out now."


    So we walked out from the kitchen, and Mom and Dad and all of us gathered into the living room and did our standard introductions and hand shaking. Honestly, it felt like one of the strangest things that happened this summer because of how normal it was.


    We situated him in the living room. Dad said that he could not share a room with Mira (not like there was any room to share with), so Mom grabbed a couple of old blankets and pillows and made a makeshift bed. Mira and he were catching up about everything, so May and I just worked awkwardly on the side organizing books and board games that were scattered around to make our house somewhat presentable.


    When it came time for dinner, we all gathered around the dining table. "How many people have we got?" Mom asked.


    "Eight," I replied.


    "Grab sixteen cans."


    "Sixteen! That''s a lot more than our two cans a day per person."


    "We can''t make a bad first impression on our guest," she replied. "Just do it."


    I went into the pantry and grabbed sixteen cans filled with a wide assortment of mixed vegetables, corn, broccoli, and peas. I even grabbed an extra can of peaches just in case people wanted to eat dessert. But then I felt guilty about splurging on so much food, so I put the can back. It''s better to save it for another day.


    Grandma and Grandpa worked in the kitchen, trying to craft a meal out of these canned goods. Grandma seemed happier than usual, probably because she actually gets to do something out of the canned food, not just eating it out of a can.


    In the dining room, Dad was interrogating Leon. He asked in a tone that was more akin to a police officer than a parent, "So how did you guys meet?"


    "You want to tell him," he said to May with a smile.


    "No," she said. "Don''t you dare! It''s too embarrassing."


    "I want to hear it," May said.


    "No, Leon. Do not listen to my sister."


    "Fine, fine," he said. "It''s a story for another day."


    "Were there any drugs involved when you guys met? Alcohol?" Dad asked.


    "No," Mira said. "It''s just an embarrassing little story."


    "Don''t need to be so negative, Dad," May said.


    "I''ve heard a lot of stories about drug use in college. In March, one of my coworker''s daughter''s friend''s cousin did too many drugs at school and got kicked out of college and¡ª"


    "Dad," May said. "They''re exaggerating their stories to make their own kids look good. It''s just hysteria. Right, Leon?"


    "As far as I''m aware, yes," Leon said. "A couple of people got sent to the hospital for alcohol poisoning, but no drug issues as far as I''m aware of."


    "Dinner is ready," Dad said and walked to the kitchen. "I''ll go grab the food."


    "So your Dad," he said to Mira. "Real friendly, huh?"


    "He''s overprotective," Mira said. "And we have a lot of disagreements. Some that may involve you."


    "Oh," he said. "He''s never going to like me."


    "He''ll get around to you. Someday."


    Grandma and Grandpa brought out a couple of plates filled with steaming vegetables. There was a big bowl of noodles (which meant that we were splurging since I hadn''t brought noodles out from the pantry) with corn and broccoli. There was steamed asparagus with spam that was marinated in soy sauce and a plate of pan-fried mixed vegetables. It smelled so good, especially after days of eating only two cans of food daily.


    "This is too much, Mr. and Mrs¡ª"


    "No need for the formalities," Mom said. "Just call me Michelle and my husband here, Avi."


    "I know a lot of families are struggling, and I feel like I''m a drain¡ª"


    "Our family is not struggling," Dad cut in sharply. "We''re doing just fine."


    Leon blushed. Mom gave a disparaging look at Dad and turned to Leon. "You''re our guest," she said. "You don''t need to worry about these things."


    "I''ve got food in my car," he said. "I can go bring it out."


    Dad opened his mouth, ready to interject. Dad is such a hypocrite. He emphasizes the need to go to the food drive every single week to get food, but when someone offers to give him food, he''s going to say no. It makes no sense unless there are some strange pride things happening.


    "That would be real helpful," Mom said.


    "I can go get it now," he said.


    "We can go get it after you finish your food, Leon," Mira said.


    We ate dinner after that. Mom talked to Leon a lot, interrogating him like Dad did, but with more honey than vinegar. We found out that he was born and raised in California and went to some small rural high school. His father was of Irish descent, his mother of Italian. He wanted to become an environmental journalist when he graduates¡ª if he ever graduates. "Writing about how the pieces of the puzzle just fit together when you look at everything broadly," he said. "It''s pretty amazing."


    "Liberal or conservative?" Dad asked all of a sudden.


    "Excuse me?" he said. "Can you repeat that?"


    "Are you a liberal or a conservative?"


    "I grew up with a lot of conservatives, especially in high school, but my parents were liberals and I agree with their values more than the values of my classmates at school."


    Dad begrudgingly nodded in approval. He always used to tell us that we could not date or marry anyone conservative. It was like marrying the Devil for Christian¡ª unspeakably sinful.


    After we finished dinner, I helped Mom dump the dishes in the sink for tomorrow. Today was such a hectic day and no one wanted to do any more work. Dad, Mira, and Leon went into the driveway and unloaded three boxes packed with food. Mira opened one of them for us: there were the standard canned beans, tomatoes, mixed vegetables, but I spotted a glass jar filled with an amber fluid. It was honey.


    "How''s you get this?" Mira asked.


    "We made it on our farm," he said. "We''ve got a small bee farm."


    There were two large bags of all-purpose wheat flour and a smaller bag of salt. "Are you sure you don''t need this?" Mom asked, probably thinking that it was too good to be true.


    "Yeah," he said. "Our family has plenty. Don''t worry about it."


    Mom unpacked the boxes and stacked the cans in the pantry. It was still emptier than what it started with a month ago, but it was fuller than yesterday, and that''s what matters.


    You know what I forgot. Today was my day for tending the garden. Charles is going to kill me for not watering the plants.

 Chapter 10, Part 1

    July 26


    I went to the garden by myself today. I told Mom that I was going to be gone for an hour because Charles needed me at the garden.


    "And he''s going to be there?" Mom asked.


    "Yeah," I said. "He''s there every day."


    "Tell him to stay indoors more," Mom said. "And be back soon."


    Today was another quiet walk to the garden that was interrupted by a loud honk from a distant car. Another person gone, probably fleeing to Texas or Mexico, where life is better and less ashy. I could hear the soft rumble of waves and the rustle of the falling leaves. The sweetgum trees lining our roads have been shedding their leaves like it''s autumn, cluttering the roads with bright reds and oranges, shining bright in this gray world.


    There was a note on the fence to the entrance of the garden.


    Be more generous with the watering. I came here yesterday, and the soil was dry. Charles. PS. I''ve figured out number two. Make sure to bring boots on Thursday.


    Boots? I''m not sure why we''d be using boots when sneakers would work just fine, but I have a strong idea about where we''d be going. There''s only one place wet enough to need boots. The beach and all those abandoned mansions.


    Why''d he want to go back to the beach? Especially after last time and the body that we found. But it''s his wish, and I can only hope that it''s worth it.


    There was a watering pail next to the faucet and a pair of gardening gloves near the base of the shed. I checked the inside of the gloves to make sure that there weren''t any spiders or insects crawling around. Watering the plants was an easy, menial task that felt strange considering that the world is crumbling around us. Maybe that''s why Charles loves gardening because it''s an escape from our chaotic times.


    I put on the gardening gloves and started weeding, but there wasn''t much to do. The lack of sunlight is even killing the hardiest plants in the world. I went and checked the shed. There was a lock on the door, but it turns out that the lock was broken, and there was a wealth of insecticides, fertilizers, and tools inside. We could use a lot of these, especially the fertilizer, for the pseudo greenhouse that we''re trying to build in the garage.


    But I decided not to take it. I know there''s a part of me that is telling me to take it. It''ll help our family and someone else will eventually find out about the shed and take those supplies away. But I can''t take it. For right now, It feels wrong to steal things that are supposed to be community supplies. If things get worse, then maybe I''ll change my mind.


    When I came back home, I was greeted by the clanging of dishes and pots. I walked into the kitchen and saw jars and boiling pots of water.


    "What is happening here?" I asked.


    "Canning," Mom said. "Leon knows how to do it, and now''s a great time to get it done."


    "I thought Dad does the cooking stuff," I said.


    "Dad is hiding in his room," May said. "He''s supposed to be doing some ''important business.'' I think he just doesn''t want to be around Leon."


    "Do you guys need me for anything?" I asked.


    "Yeah," May said. "They''re making bread out¡ª"


    "Bread? Aren''t we splurging a little."


    "No," May said. "Might as well make it now while we still can."


    "You know, because of the gas situation," she added. "They''ll teach you how to knead the bread and stuff."


    I walked out, and saw Leon and Mira kneading the bread. They were pretty engrossed in their conversation, and I didn''t want to interrupt them, so I just walked around awkwardly until they finished whatever they were talking about, probably something about college.


    "Oh, Neal. You''re here," Mira said when she turned around after I waited for a solid five minutes.


    "You can just give me the dough, and I''ll just knead it in the living room," I said. "Not to disturb your conversation."


    "You should stay," she said and turned to Leon. "I believe you two haven''t met yet."


    "No we haven''t," Leon said.


    "Well. This''ll be a perfect time for an icebreaker," she said. "I''m going to leave my favorite boyfriend and my favorite brother¡ª"


    "I''m your only brother," I retorted.


    She ignored me. "¡ªhere to bond with each other. I''ll be in the kitchen, helping Mom and May," she said, and I tried shooting daggers from my eyes at her.


    Leon and I were stuck in the same room. He moved over next to me with a bowl filled with dough. My heart started beating faster, and for some reason, I started sweating. I think it was because I hadn''t spoken to a new person for two months now.


    "I''m Leon," he said and put out his hand.


    "Neal," I said and shook it.


    "So," he said. "The basics for kneading bread are that you want to stretch out the bread a bit. It''s alright to be a bit tough on kneading. You want to use the heel of your palm to do most of the pushing, and you want to fold the bread often. When the bread is firm enough for it to hold its shape, you can stop kneading."


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    "Okay," I said.


    I pushed at the dough and rolled it around a bit on the counter. "That''s good," he said. "You''re pushing a little hard, but, yeah, you''re doing fine."


    "Thanks," I said and continued folding and stretching out the dough.


    We worked in silence for a bit. It was a peaceful silence, only interrupted by the clanging of dishes in the kitchen and the slapping of dough on the wooden boards under the flour balls. "So what do you like to do in your free time?" he asked.


    "Read," I said and shrugged.


    "That''s cool," he said. "Any favorite genres."


    "Anything''s fine," I said. "Don''t really have any preferences."


    "None?"


    "None," I said.


    We didn''t really talk a lot after that other than asking to pass some flour or dough. It was very awkward between us. This is the exact reason why I hate being stuck in the same room as someone that I don''t really know. It feels impossible to hold a conversation. I hate being so socially awkward.


    It feels like a miracle that the rest of the day went along better. For dinner, we all had fresh bread with canned baked beans along with some peas. Mom and Mira and Leon seemed to be getting along well, and they were sitting at the dining table long after Dad ran off to his office for his "official business," and May and I went to our room.


    We just stared at the wall until we got tired. There was nothing much to do.


    July 27


    I had bread with some peanut butter today. It was a little bit crusty, but it tasted like heaven. I guess this is what eating canned food for days and days does to you.


    All the adults were working on trying to make the whole greenhouse thing work. The biggest issue right now is heat. Every single day is getting colder and colder. Mom and Dad have brought out old blankets and dusted off some of the lint that was building up on them. We''ve got an old heater in the garage, but it takes a lot of power to use, and with the sun out, we''ve got no ability to generate a significant amount of electricity.


    Dad was being a little snarky today. I don''t know what his anger at Leon is about. It all seems to be irrational and pointless. Mom agrees with me too, but she''s too tired to argue about this with him.


    "We need more batteries," Dad said. "If the sun comes out, we want to store as much electricity as we can for winter."


    "None of the stores are open," Mira replied.


    "We can drive around and see," Dad said.


    "No gas," Mom said. "Driving is too dangerous. Attracts too much attention."


    "We need all the batteries that we can find," Dad said. "At this rate, the ground is going to be frozen by mid-September, and the heaters need a lot of power to work."


    "Why don''t we just use the fireplace?" Mira asked.


    "Think about it, Mira," Dad said. "How are we going to be able to keep the plants warm all night? Fireplaces are too hard to maintain."


    Mira didn''t say much back.


    "Lucky for us," Dad said. "We do have a car here with gas."


    He nudged his head to Leon, and everyone stared at him. "I¡ª The car¡ª I need¡ª I haven''t got enough gas in the car."


    Dad looked at him skeptically. "You had enough to get here. I''ll go check. There should be plenty."


    "Dad," Mira said. "What''s your problem?"


    She turned to Leon. "You don''t need to listen to my Dad."


    "No," he said. "I mean it''s fine. But I think we could harvest car batteries from the unused cars. And we could build some pedal electricity generators with the bikes."


    "Does anyone here know how to remove car batteries?" Dad asked, and no one responded. "That''s what I thought."


    "We should work on this some other time," Mom said. "We''re not getting anything productive done. Hopefully, a breath of fresh air will help everyone work better."


    So Mom and Dad left the garage, and Leon and Mira took off their gloves.


    "So long for that wish," Leon said.


    "What wish?"


    "Your Dad not hating me," he said. "I can literally feel his contempt."


    "Dad is being a jerk," Mira said. "It''s infuriating. You know he still treats me like I''m some teenager or something."


    "I''ve always said you were young at heart," Leon replied and Mira glared at him before breaking into a soft chuckle.


    "But I mean, it''s so frustrating," Mira said. "I feel like when we get along best is when I''m doing the listening and he''s doing the talking, but as soon as I want to do something, all of a sudden it''s just unacceptable."


    "I mean, it''s our parents," he said. "That''s what they do. When my older brother¡ª have you met him?"


    "I don''t think so," Mira said.


    "Phillip. He''s taller than me, darker hair."


    "Definitely not."


    "Oh," he said. "But anyway, when he went to college, my parents literally stalked him."


    "Like literally stalked him?" Mira asked. "Or figuratively?"


    "Literal stalking," Leon said. "They called at least twice a day and cyber-stalked his social media accounts and friends. Once every week, they''d drive up north to meet him, and they''d have lunch and¡ª"


    "What''s the point?" Mira asked.


    "Our parents are overprotective," he said. "They feel like their decisions are best for you even though you might not agree. Sometimes independence scares them. No, most of the time, it scares them."


    "But how can I make this overprotectiveness stage pass quicker," Mira said.


    "I don''t know," Leon said. "I''m the second child, not the oldest one."


    "So you told me a whole story, and then you can''t even help me with this problem," Mira said. "You''re terrible at giving advice."


    "It''s why I never wanted to be a counselor," he said, and they both laughed.


    The rest of the day went by pretty quietly except for when Mom and Dad duked it out in their room. May and I could hear it. Luckily, Mira was still hanging out in the garage with Leon, so I didn''t hear much.


    "What is going on with you?" Mom asked Dad.


    "Nothing. Nothing is going on," Dad said.


    "Don''t lie to me," Mom said. "You''ve been harassing Leon ever since he''s gotten here."


    "What am I supposed to do if some boy just comes in and proposes to my daughter?" he asked. "I haven''t even met the kid."


    "Don''t you trust Mira''s judgement," Mom said. "She''s an adult. She has a right to choose whoever is best for her."


    "If this boy is going to be a part of our family, then I have a right to get to know him."


    "Getting to know him is fine," Mom said. "But you don''t need to be cruel. You can ask him about his family or his childhood or his favorite whatever, but you don''t need to put him on the spot and force him to do something he clearly does not want to do."


    "Mira''s not your baby girl anymore," Mom said. "If she wants to get married to Leon, then she''ll get married. We''ll clap and be happy for them, and if she wants to leave, then we won''t stand in her way."


    "So you''re just going to let her leave," Dad said. "We might never see her again."


    "But if he leaves, Mira might never see him again. And if he stays, he''ll never see his family again," Mom said. "Someone is going to lose something, and we''ll have to be selfless enough to be the ones to make that sacrifice."


    Dad began to breathe heavily. Was he crying? "You know that I love Mira."


    "Of course," Mom said. "You two have always butted heads. Both of you guys are stubborn as bulls."


    "And I''ll love her," Mom added. "Even if she chooses to leave."


    Mom and Dad began to talk in quieter voices. If I wanted to, I could''ve taken a glass to their door and listened, but it felt wrong. Some things are best kept as secrets.


    I managed to find some old hiking boots in the closet for Charles'' trip tomorrow. They don''t fit that well since they were from a couple years ago, but I think I''ll be fine. I''ll only be using them for a couple of hours anyways.


    I''m trying not to think about the body by the ocean, but I can''t help it. Every time someone turns on the water, I can''t help but to think of the waves rolling and crashing by the beach houses and that rotting body. Every time the tide pulls closer to our house and the stench of the rotting seaweed of the ocean wafts into our house, I think of the drooping flesh and grayish carcass. I''ve been able to suppress these thoughts, but after Charles'' note, I can''t stop thinking about it.


    Hopefully the nightmares don''t come back.

 Chapter 10, Part 2

    July 28


    The sky was blue and gray, and the day was cold. I met Charles in the garden.


    "We''re going to the ocean, aren''t we?" I asked.


    "Yep," he said.


    "Why?"


    "Just because..." he said. "I''ll tell you later."


    "Alright," I said, and we walked towards the ocean.


    There was a thin mid-afternoon fog creeping in from the ocean, and the sky was dim and faded. We passed by abandoned homes with roofs caked with gray, and tall sycamores shedding their leaves for winter even though summer hasn''t ended. The air was salty, and as we neared the beach, I could taste the briny air of the sea. It made me feel a little nauseous.


    No one was outside. Except for the woods and the food gathering on Saturdays, everyone seems to have disappeared or retreated into their homes. Charles and I talked as we walked down cracked sidewalks to the beach, but it was in hushed whispers to keep the eerie silence around us.


    "You want to go first?" Charles asked when we reached the tattered yellow tape marking the disaster zone.


    "You can go ahead," I said. "I hope your ocean visit is worth it."


    "It will be," he said and gestured around. "Trust me."


    He stepped under the caution tape, but I stood back.


    "C''mon," Charles said. "We should get moving before the tides start rolling in."


    "It''s too dangerous," I said. "I don''t really want to go."


    "It''s safe," Charles said. "Do I really need to pull out a chart of the tides and wind patterns of our local beach along with a weather almanac to check the probability of there being a storm surge in the middle of summer?"


    "That was rhetorical," Charles said. "The tides are going to be going down for another hour. We won''t get caught in the waves."


    "I don''t understand why you''d want to come back here," I said.


    "You''ll see. Do you really want me to force you to come with me? I will if I have to."


    "Screw you," I said and stepped under the tape and into the abandoned neighborhood.


    The asphalt was still damp¡ª the tides must''ve recently retreated¡ª and there was kelp and seaweed scattered around the smooth sidewalks.


    "You really wanted to come back," I said and poked at the rotting pieces of seaweed. "This is just disgusting."


    "I''ve got some stuff to figure out," he said and paused for a breath.


    "Well, I hope it''ll be worth it," I said and kicked a muddy stone.


    The closer we got to the beach, the sharper the small of the ocean was. It was this sharp mixture of salt, seaweed, and dead fish that clung to the concrete sidewalks and the sand-streaked walls of the houses. All the trees lining the streets were dead along with the bushes and lawn grass. Algae replaced them, little bits and pieces clinging to rotting stairs and windowsills. There was even a car that washed up onto someone''s porch. "How did this end up here?" I asked.


    "God knows," Charles said. "The waves and tides did their thing, and it ended up there."


    "I''m going to sit here," he said and pointed at a wet metal bench that was anchored to a cracked concrete slab. "Just for a couple of minutes to catch my breath."


    "We''re close by," I said. "It''ll be a couple minutes to the beach, and we''ll be back soon."


    "You can go on ahead," he said. "I''ll be right behind you."


    "I''ll sit here," I said and sat next to him. "No point in going ahead if this is what your bucket list is."


    We sat next to each other, breathing in the briny ocean air. I noticed then that Charles didn''t look so good. He was a little pale, and gaunt with this hollowness in his eyes. He looked sick or something. I wasn''t sure. The wind blew and Charles looked at the sky. "You looking for the Sun or God?" I asked.


    "Neither," he said. "I''m looking at the sky because I want to."


    There was another silence between us. The waves crashed and roared in the distance, and the clouds overhead darkened.


    "Is¡ª" I said and hesitated. Charles looked at me quizzically.


    "Is there something wrong?" I asked.


    "What do you mean?" Charles quickly asked back.


    "I don''t know," I said. "Never mind."


    "Things are fine," he blurted out. "As fine as they would be in this world. C''mon let''s go now."


    Something wasn''t fine. I know this because I do this too, saying I''m fine and changing the topic as quickly as I can. I put my suspicions aside because we could figure this out on the way back, and we continued walking towards the beach.


    The image of the dead body flashed through my mind. I shuddered, bile rising up my throat. All those nightmares began flashing back with the dead, rotting bodies lying in the shallow water, bloated and gray. I hunched over, breathing hard. "Everything alright?" he asked.


    I took a few deep breaths and calmed my racing heart. "Yeah," I said. "Just get a little seasick at the smell of the ocean."


    "We''re almost there," he said.


    The mansions a couple of blocks away from the beach were ruined. Piles of sand covered the roofs and mud smeared the walls. Everything smelled musty and the air was damp. Some of the wooden fences had barnacles clinging onto them, and in a couple of bird feeders and loose tires, there were small pools of sand and water with snails lying around them. Kelp was scattered all over the sidewalks along with mussel shells and sea stars.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "Look at that," Charles said and pointed to the left.


    It was a sailing boat smashed through the giant windows of the mansion. Tattered pieces of cloth hung from the pole, billowing with the wind. The body of the boat was scratched and scarred, and there was some lettering on the side, though I''m not sure what it read. "What''s the name of the boat?"


    "C-A-S- something - O-P- and ending with something that has a diagonal," Charles said.


    "Cassiopeia," I said.


    "How do you know?"


    "I read it in a book," I replied. "Cassiopeia was some rich, Greek queen that got punished by being put in the night sky. Or that''s how I believe it went."


    "This situation is totally not ironic," Charles said and gazed at the boat. "Let''s go to the beach before the tides start to rise."


    We trudged down the muddy avenue, sand crunching under the soles of our shoes. When we reached the coast side road, I could see the whole beach, a wide expanse of tan and brown, dotted with driftwood, clumps of kelp, and a sailboat sinking in the mud. There were large, dark stones protruding from the sand, and there were shallow pools of water in the dips and ditches formed by the receding waves.


    Our beach was a thin sliver of sand before, barely expanding and receding as the tides went up and down. But when I looked at it today, it was vast, extending hundreds of feet into where the ocean used to be, and the waves crashed far in the distance, frothing white.


    "We''re heading down," Charles said.


    "It''ll be dangerous," I said. "There might be pits of quicksand or something. I don''t know."


    "The sand is too dry," he replied. "You can throw some rocks onto the beach if you want to."


    I grabbed a couple of softball-sized rocks. They were damp and slimy, and I nearly dropped them as soon as I felt them. I took a couple of steps back and hurled one. It landed in a shallow pond of sand with a soft thud and then swiftly sank under the sand.


    "See?" I said. "Quicksand."


    "Rocks will sink in wet sand, especially because you chucked it that hard," Charles said. "Anyway, even if you''re right, we''ll only be staying close to the stairs. The sand should be drier, and there won''t be any quicksand."


    So we walked down the concrete stairs to the beach. The cement was slick with seaweed and slimy with a smattering of shells all over the gray surface. Charles stood on the beach, and I stood behind him, breathing in the ocean air. I thought I''d see my nightmares of the dead bodies, but there was nothing.


    Charles stooped down and started taking off his shoes and socks. "What are you doing?" I asked.


    "I want to feel the sand under my feet," he said.


    "What are we really doing down here?" I asked. "I just don''t get the point."


    Charles dug his feet deeper into the damp ground, tan sand squishing through the gaps between his toes. He took a deep breath. "You remember the body we found."


    "How could I forget?" I replied.


    He chuckled. "I wish I could forget."


    "Don''t we all wish we could forget," I said.


    We stood there for a while, just staring at the sea. The tide was still receding, and the crashing of the waves became softer. Charles turned towards me. "This is going to be embarrassing, but I''ve been having dreams¡ª no, nightmares¡ª about the body. Like, I can''t get the image out of my mind," he said. "Have you been seeing it in your sleep too?"


    "Maybe," I lied. "I don''t really remember my dreams that well."


    "Lucky," he said. "You''re real tough."


    I felt guilty for lying. Charles sighed and looked out at the ocean. "You do remember some of your dreams, right?"


    "Yeah," I said. "A couple."


    "I know it sounds crazy, but have you ever had a dream that felt so real that when you woke up, for the first few moments, you can''t tell the difference between what was real and what was part of your dream?" he asked.


    "Yeah. Lots of time for school related dreams," I said, and Charles looked at me strangely. "What? I''m not judging you."


    "Well that''s been happening with the body and the ocean. Most nights I go to sleep, and my mind just can''t help wandering to the body."


    "So then why the beach?" I asked. "Why come back if this place is haunting you with nightmares?"


    "Every time that I dream, it keeps twisting this place into something that is worse and worse until I don''t remember what the beach and all this flooded area was like before," he said. "Because my dreams and reality just became one another. I came down here just to see¡ª to prove¡ª that it''s not as bad as I dream about."


    I didn''t say much. It was so deep, maybe too deep. I don''t think I had ever had someone just confess that much to me. Charles turned towards me. "You probably think I''m crazy?"


    I shrugged. "We should get going," he said and started walking up the concrete stairs.


    I took a deep breath. "Wait," I said. "I lied about not having nightmares of the body."


    The ocean breeze picked up, and the beach echoed with the crashing of the waves.


    "I had them," I said. "Still do, though not as much. I do think of the body. Whenever the ocean breeze wafts into my house the body passes through my mind. Whenever I hear the waves crash or think about the beach, it''s there. And the nightmares. I''ve dreamed of a lot of people as bodies. My parents. My sisters. You."


    I expected Charles to crack some witty joke then about me having dreams of him, but there was nothing.


    "Why''d you lie then?" he asked.


    "Because it''s embarrassing," I said. "It''s so just so embarrassing. I don''t know why."


    "Is it because you don''t trust me?"


    "No," I said. "I do trust you. It''s just that I feel uncomfortable. I just have a hard time with these things."


    "Look," I said. "Since we''re telling each other the truth, what''s going on with you?"


    "There''s nothing wrong," he said. "I''m fine."


    "No you''re not," I said. "You look sick right now. I know that times have been hard, but you look really sick. And all this pausing while you''re walking and panting. You used to be the fastest guy in the class. We always competed for the best mile time."


    "We need to head back. The tides are coming up, and I''ve got to tend the garden."


    "And your obsession with gardening. That came out of nowhere," I said, and then I paused. All the dots began to connect in my brain. The constant gardening. His gaunt face. Him always bending down to take deep breaths. "Are you out of food?"


    "Please," he said. "Let''s head back. Waves are coming in and it''s going to be dangerous."


    "Please, just tell me the truth. Are you starving?"


    Charles turned and faced towards me. When I saw the look on his face, I just knew that I was right. Charles sighed. "At the beginning, my parents thought everyone was overreacting. Sure the tides came in and ravaged our town, but the government was going to step in and fix everything. While everyone else was hoarding up food and raiding the supermarkets, we stayed at home and pretended like everything was normal."


    He looked at the horizon. "But the recovery took longer than what they expected and even though we were getting food from the food drives, it wasn''t quite enough to live on, but it was enough to survive on. But when the volcanoes hit and the food packages started getting smaller, we knew that we were in trouble. Mom and Dad pawned away their rings and silverware and old necklaces for cans of food. We ration it, but we''re running out and we''ve sold everything that we could sell."


    "How many do you have left?"


    "About twenty," he said. "We share two cans a week along with the eighteen we get in total from the food drive."


    "Well why''d you not tell me?"


    "Same reasoning as you," he said. "Too embarrassed. Too scared. I don''t know."


    "I can give you food," I said. "My family has got plenty¡ª"


    "Keep them for your family," he said.


    "You''re basically family," I said. "I''ll sneak out a few cans every week from the pantry. May does that all the time and no one notices."


    "Look, I really don''t¡ª"


    "Just trust me," I said.


    We stood there awkwardly for a couple seconds. "We should head back now," he said. "The tides are coming up."


    "Yeah," I said. "Let''s go."


    We walked through the sand-streaked neighborhood. The sky hovered high above us, dark and gray, and the bare trees looked like salt-bleached skeletons. "Do you ever want to come back to the beach again?" I asked.


    "Maybe," he said.


    We didn''t talk much afterwards. When we parted ways, I told him that I''d bring food every Friday.


    "Thanks," he said.


    "No problem," I said.


    When I got home, Mom looked at me strangely. "Did you go down to the beach," she said. "You smell like the ocean."


    "No," I lied. "We went to the border of the flooded neighborhoods. Charles wanted to use some of the seaweed as fertilizer, and last night, the tides rose pretty high and carried the kelp past the caution tape, so we never crossed it."


    "You sure?" Mira asked and Mom gave her a strange look, but I knew what she meant.


    "Yes," I said.


    Was I really breaking the deal we made before? I don''t think so. I haven''t been honest, but I don''t think that this situation would be important to her because it''s something between me and Charles.

 Chapter 10, Part 3

    July 29


    I went out to the garden with the bag of food that I promised to Charles. I grabbed the food in the morning before everyone else was even awake. Last night I didn''t get much sleep, not because of the nightmares, but because I was nervous about taking food from the pantry.


    When the sun was barely creeping above the horizon (I believe. With all the ash clouds in the sky, determining the sun''s position is hard), I went into the pantry and grabbed five cans, two cans of mixed vegetables, two of brussel sprouts, and one of tuna, and changed up the spreadsheet. I wish I could''ve given him more food, but I can''t take so much that Mom and Dad begin to notice.


    When it came time to bring the food to Charles, I grabbed a backpack and stuffed the cans into them before heading out to the garden.


    "What''s with the backpack?" Mom asked.


    "Charles says that we might be getting a harvest soon."


    "Is the mask on tightly?" Mom asked.


    "Of course," I said. "I''ll be back in an hour."


    The backpack felt heavy as I walked. The clouds laid heavy in the sky too, but not with rain, but with ash. The garden looked sad. Most of the leaves on the crops were stunted and short and some of them just wilted on the sides. Charles was bent over, pushing some soil around.


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    "I brought it," I said. "Do you have a bag?"


    "Yeah," he said and grabbed a sack-bag from the corner of the garden.


    I placed each can into the sack-bag, careful to not bend or break them even though I knew that they were durable. "Thanks," he said.


    "No worries," I said and paused. "Do you need any help? The garden looks a bit sad."


    "It''s not all bad," he said. "The cherry tomatoes are growing well and so are some of the root vegetables. We might harvest them in a week."


    "What about the cabbage?"


    "Dead," he said. "Just not enough sunlight to sustain them."


    "Do you need me to water anything?"


    "No," he said. "You''ve done enough. You can go if you want."


    "You sure?" I asked.


    "You''ll need time to think about your next wish," he said.


    "We''re still doing this?" I asked. "Seriously?"


    "Of course. I''m not letting any apocalypse get in the way of summer," he said. "So next week you''ll come up with something?"


    "I''ll try my best," I said.


    We said our goodbyes and I left the garden early. A chilly breeze gusted through the thin wire fences, picking up leaves and throwing them at the fence. It felt like winter. Most of the trees were bare, except for the buckeyes, whose leaves were sprouting from bare branches.


    When Mom asked if I had brought back vegetables, I told her that we might get vegetables next week. It felt like the only truthful thing I''ve said to anyone in my family over these two days. It''s the nearly end of July, and the weather is getting colder and colder. I think we''ll make it through¡ª at least for a while¡ª but I''m worried that Charles and his family won''t.

 Chapter 11, Part 1

    July 30


    Leon tagged along with all of us to the food drive.


    Dad was trying his best to be nice to Leon today. I mean, even I would at least try to get to know the person that may become your son-in-law. Before we headed out to grab our weekly bag of canned food, Dad offered an air-mask to Leon, almost a kind of olive branch.


    "Here," Dad said gruffly. "Take this."


    Mom smiled approvingly.


    "It''s alright mister¡ª Sorry, Avi," Leon said. "You guys have already done so much for me. I''ve got my own stash of air-masks."


    "No, I insist," Mom said. "We''re the hosts and you''re our¡ª"


    "I''ve got plenty of masks. Don''t worry about it," Leon said.


    "But¡ª"


    "Mom," May said. "Leon doesn''t need any air-masks. He''s got his own. You guys don''t need to keep doing this pointless ''I insist'' battle. C''mon let''s go."


    "Okay, great," Dad said. "Let''s go."


    We walked down the empty sidewalks. Mom in front with Grandma and Grandpa. May and I behind them, crammed in the middle. Dad, Mira, and Leon hanging out in the back. The houses all around us were abandoned, or at least looked so. There was no movement inside of them, no fluttering of curtains or flickering of candles or anything. Just complete stillness.


    Occasionally, you would see some movement around the houses. In some of the houses we passed, the curtains were billowing as the wind blew, but if you looked closer, you''d realize that the windows were smashed, and the house was more likely than not looted. The kitchen cabinets would be flung wide open, and any valuables would be long gone. I wonder if Charles and his family need to do that to survive.


    Dad made sure that we stayed close to each other, especially when we went downtown. It had been two weeks since the mayor''s speech, and with food running thin, people''s memories of that nice speech may be fading away. Last week seemed too calm to be true, so this week, Dad was extra wary.


    We passed by the looted buildings and smashed windows of cafes. The shops that were looted had a couple of chairs thrown around, and all the glass was broken. It felt like the people weren''t looting the store, but just smashing all the glass containers and windows because they''re angry at the mayor or the president or the Moon.


    When Dad wasn''t looking around for rifles or other guns, he was busy talking with Leon. Leon had checked one box in his approval sheet, which was being a Democrat, but Dad wanted to know more. The more cynical part of me wants to think that the only reason Dad was talking with Leon was because Dad wanted to find some flaw with Leon and somehow get Mira to dump him, but the more hopeful part tells me that Dad was talking with Leon to make up for the past few days.


    "What was your major in college?" Dad asked.


    "Journalism," he said.


    "You want to work for the New York Times someday?"


    "Maybe when the world goes back to normal," he said. "But I''m probably going to work for the local newspaper just because it''s close to home."


    "Any particular writing focus?"


    "I did sports journalism back in high school for our local team," he said. "Right now, I''m more interested in the environmental stuff."


    "What sports do you watch?"


    "I watched mostly volleyball and basketball, some baseball, not a whole bunch of football since the rules are pretty confusing," he replied. "What about you?"


    "Football only," Dad said. "And sometimes the finals of basketball."


    "That''s cool," he said. "You watch the Niners?"


    "They''re terrible," Dad said. "Quarterback is bad, defense is bad, offense is bad. Our family is from New England, so Patriots all the way for us."


    "What about basketball?"


    "Warriors," Dad said. "They''re decent. Used to support the Celtics, but..."


    "Yeah," Leon said. "They''re not that great."


    "So, what about your family?" Dad asked. "You guys from California?"


    "Born and raised here," Leon said. "Inland, though. The northern part of the Central Valley."


    "Were there lots of farms and orchards?" Dad asked.


    "Yeah," Leon said. "Pretty much everywhere. Lots of fruit trees and almonds, especially. Our family grew cherries, but we had a small garden for other smaller things, like tomatoes and squashes."


    "Did you guys go to church?" May asked all of a sudden.


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    "I mean, yeah," Leon said. "My parents were the religious ones. My brother and I just went along because it was just a habit to go to church, you know."


    "I mean, I believe in God," Leon added. "But I''m not like super church-going or that anymore."


    "And you think he''s watching over us or something?" May asked. "So he''s just standing there and watching us suffer and having all of our friends killed by the tidal waves and choking us with ash¡ª"


    "May," Mom said. "You need to watch your tone."


    "What?" she said. "I''m being honest."


    "I don''t believe that God''s up there, watching and changing the world," Leon said. "Some people believe that, but that doesn''t really align with my faith. I just believe that there''s something higher than me, you know. Some higher power or creator. It''s kinda hard to explain."


    "Yeah," May said. "I didn''t get anything you just said."


    "Faith is complicated," Mira said.


    "No, duh," May said. "No need to state the obvious."


    Everyone walked in a pretty awkward silence after that. We arrived in the plaza, but there were only ten or twelve people there. It was pretty empty, but I think it was because we arrived a bit late. Piles of damp ash laid on the lawn in front of the building. We waited in line until it was our turn. Dad gave the man at the gate all the IDs and proof of residency form.


    "ID?" the man asked Leon.


    "Oh," he said. "I¡ª"


    "He''s a guest of ours," Dad said.


    "Out of town?" the man asked.


    "Does it matter?" Dad said.


    "Only residents are able to pick up food," the man said. "That''s all that we can afford now."


    "He''s only going to be here for a week," Dad said.


    "Sorry," the man said. "No exceptions."


    So we walked and grabbed seven bags of food. I peeked inside. There were only four cans per bag, far from the dozens we received in the beginning. "That''s not a lot of food," Leon said.


    "We make do with what we have," Mom said. "It''s best not to talk about food over here. Too many people watching."


    We walked out of the center as fast as we could. Grandma''s knee was working better, so we walked briskly home. The sky was dark gray, but I didn''t think there was going to be an ashfall today.


    When we walked into the house, Leon turned towards us. "Is this how much food you guys have been receiving every week?"


    "It used to be more," Mira replied.


    "But this isn''t enough for someone to survive on for weeks on end."


    "We''ve got a lot of stored food," Dad said. "We''re going to be fine."


    "And the food you''ve given us will be very helpful," Mom added. "Thank you."


    Leon looked worried. I was too. Doing two cans a day will mean that the food will only last two days before running out. We''re fortunate enough to have lots of food stored up, but some other people are less fortunate. I hope Charles'' family is alright.


    July 31


    In the middle of the morning, I had just realized that Leon had been here for a week. Leon and Mira were talking in the bedroom, and I was walking towards the bathroom when I heard them talking.


    "Mira," Leon said. "We have to talk about it."


    Mira sighed. "Now''s not the right time."


    "Please," he said. "I''m not talking about the marriage proposal¡ª"


    "I know," she said, cutting him off. "It''s just. I just can''t make this decision right now."


    "I know," he replied. "But we''ve got to make it soon. Next Sunday, we''re all going to be leaving for New Mexico, and I want you to come with me."


    "But why can''t you stay here with me," she said. "Our house has got food, we''ve got shelter, we''re by the ocean, so winters are going to be milder than if we go to New Mexico."


    "Mira, you''re the smartest person I know. It''s the middle of summer, and it''s forty-degrees outside. Who knows how bad it''s going to get in winter?" he asked. "New Mexico has got natural gas. Texas is right next to them, and they''ve got oil and power. It''s going to be warmer down there too."


    Mira sighed deeply. There was a moment of silence. I was just standing awkwardly in the hallway, leaning against the wall. I knew it was wrong to listen to, but I did it anyway. I just had to know.


    "What about our family?" Mira said. "Could we come with you guys?"


    Leon inhaled sharply. "I don''t know."


    "What do you mean you don''t know?"


    "I don''t know. Everything was just so chaotic," he said. "Maybe. I''ll see what I can do with my family."


    "You didn''t think of my family," Mira said. "What if we were starving?"


    There was a rustle. Leon probably ran his hands through his hair. "I didn''t have time," he said. "I knew that we were going to leave eventually, but I didn''t expect it to be so soon."


    "So what do we do now?" Mira asked.


    "Do you think you can convince your family to leave?" he asked. "I know it''s going to be hard, but just tell them that it''s better in the South and that my family has got food and gas if we can make it down there. And I might be able to talk to my family to figure it out."


    "My parents are going to be a problem. Dad won''t go if everything isn''t completely figured out," Mira said. "Mom too. They''re both too jaded. Hope has never been a strong suit for either one of them. They won''t even consider leaving unless the whole plan is laid out or they''re desperate enough to take a chance."


    There was a stream of whispered swear words from Leon.


    "What about you bringing your family to our house?" Mira asked.


    "We''ll be too much of a drain on your resources, and when the weather gets cold, we''ll all starve together," he said. "You guys have enough food right now to last till spring if your weekly deliveries keep happening and ration carefully. With my family in the mix, you won''t even make it till the end of winter."


    There was a long sigh. "What do we do?"


    "I wish I knew."


    "And you guys can''t wait?"


    "With the way the weather is going, we might be snowed in before we can reach Arizona."


    "It''s the middle of summer though."


    "Who knows how the ashfall has changed the weather? Maybe it''ll stay sunny, and we''ll be fine if we stay, but if it snows, then we''ll be trapped."


    There was a moment of silence, just soft breathing, and everything was still.


    "So this is it," Mira said. "It''s our goodbye then."


    "I don''t know."


    There was a pause.


    "You know, you sound just like Neal," she said. "You''re always saying that you don''t know even though somewhere in you, you do know."


    "He''s a smart kid," Leon said. "Sometimes, we just don''t know the right answers."


    There was some rustling in the room, and the floorboards creaked. Someone stood up. There was this tense silence in the house.


    "I think I know the solution to our problem," Leon announced. "Love. It''s the solution to everything."


    "God, you sound like one of those cliche characters in the movies that say that love will cure everything."


    "Maybe it will," Leon said and they shared a chuckle. "So you''ll try convincing your dad?"


    "I''ll try."


    "You know that I love you."


    "Of course," she said. "I love you too."


    There was a brief smooching before the door began to creak. I tried walking down the hallway as naturally as possible to make sure they didn''t think that I was eavesdropping on their conversation.


    "Oh hey, Neal," Mira said.


    "I''m just heading for the restroom," I said. "Everything alright?"


    "Of course," she said. "We were just talking about what we''d do if college started again."


    "Okay," I said and walked away. "Hope you had fun."


    Mira lied to me then. I thought being honest about the important things was one of her values. I guess Mira and I do have something in common.

 Chapter 11, Part 2

    August 1


    Wood gathering day.


    Mom and Dad split our household in half for tasks for today. Mira, May, Leon, and I all went with Dad to the woods while Mom stayed home with Grandma and Grandpa. They''re going to keep working on the greenhouse we''re trying to build in the garage. So far they''ve set up a rudimentary lighting system, but heat and finding a non-solar power source for the batteries is still going to be an issue.


    "We can take my car, if you want," Leon said. "I don''t want to bother you guys if the walk is long."


    "The woods are about five, ten minutes away," Dad said. "We''ll be fine."


    "Are you sure? I¡ª"


    "Save your gas," Dad said. "It''s precious in time like this, and I want you both to be able to get home in time."


    Leon looked shocked and you could see the subtle jaw drop. I was too. Dad, a couple of days back, would''ve kicked Leon out instantly if given the choice. I guess even adults can change. Dad turned towards all of us.


    "What are you guys staring at?" he asked. "Let''s go."


    I adjusted my air mask, and Mira looked at Dad. "Thank you," she said.


    Dad forced out a pained smile. I know that it''s going to be tough for him if Mira leaves. It''s going to be tough on all of us.


    We walked down the street, heading towards the woods. Dad walked in the very front, carrying a wheelbarrow filled with canvas bags, and Mira and Leon were right behind, talking quietly amongst each other.


    "Do you think Mira and Leon are leaving?" May asked.


    "Maybe," I said. "I don''t know. Why don''t you ask them yourself?"


    "Whatever," May said. "It''s just that, the house is going to feel a lot emptier without Mira being around."


    "I thought you wanted more space."


    "I do," May said. "It''s so annoying being with Mom and Dad all the time, and with Mira gone, it''s like there''s one less person that isn''t like our parents."


    "Plus, Leon''s pretty cute," she added.


    "You have a crush on Mira''s boyfriend," I said. "Why? Didn''t you have an argument with him on Saturday?"


    "First, we didn''t argue on Saturday. We had a thoughtful conversation about religion. Second, I don''t have a crush on him," she said and walked slower. We didn''t want Mira to hear our conversation. That would just be awkward. "He''s just objectively hot. Don''t you agree?"


    "I don''t know," I said. "That''s just weird."


    "It''s not weird. It''s natural," May said and sighed. "I just wish that I was Mira sometimes."


    "Dad would fight with you a lot though."


    "It''ll be worth the trade off," May said and looked at Leon. This was male objectification at its finest moment.


    We walked for a couple of minutes before reaching the woods. There were small stumps of sycamore and pine laying around, but unlike a couple weeks back, there was no one here. It was like we had stumbled into a ghost town, abandoned and lonely. There was dew this morning, so there were no ash clouds blossoming whenever we walked over the leaf litter and the air was unusually clear.


    Dad divided us up into two groups. May and Mira would be looking around for branches and twigs that we could use for kindle while Leon, Dad, and I would be trading shifts and using the puny hatchet to chop down some smaller saplings.


    "Good luck," May said. "You''re going to need it if you even want to try to cut down any one of these trees."


    "I know," I replied.


    Mira and May walked into the forest while Dad and Leon started chopping down a small sycamore. They weren''t making much progress on it because the tiny hatchet just wasn''t strong enough. After about half an hour of trying to chop down the tree, they had only made about a three-inch notch in the trunk.


    Dad dropped the axe on the ground and sat down, panting. Leon took off his sweatshirt and wiped beads of sweat off of his face. His shirt was stained with dark sweat-marks, and he sat down on a tree stump, catching his breath.


    "You want to do some chopping?" Dad asked me.


    I shook my head. "It''s too much work, and I''m busy gathering sticks."


    "You haven''t gathered a single stick since we''ve started chopping," Dad said. "We''re not going to maintain a fire with just twigs. We''re going to need real wood."


    Dad picked up the axe and placed it in my hands. "It''s pretty simple. It''s just like swinging a baseball bat."


    "Then why don''t you ask May to do it?" I retorted. "She''s the softball player. I flunked out of baseball after a year."


    "You just have to do it," Dad said. "So let''s start."


    I pulled the axe back like I was trying to swing a baseball bat. Dad was literally staring at me while Leon was looking in my general direction, probably searching for Mira. I pulled the axe back and tightened my grip on the hatchet, trying to swing it, but I just couldn''t do it. It was just too weird with Dad staring at me.


    "Can you just go somewhere and not stare at me?" I asked Dad.


    "Why?"


    "It''s just really weird."


    "I''m just making sure that you''re doing it right, so that you don''t hurt yourself."


    "I''m going to be fine," I said. "You said it was easy. Now, just, I don''t know, help May with picking up sticks. I''ll call you when I''m tired."


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    "Alright," Dad said and stood up. Leon stood up with him too, probably to find Mira. "Be safe."


    They left the wood-chopping area and went into the woods to help May and Mira pick up branches and sticks. I took a deep breath through my air mask and swung the axe. It hit the wood with a solid thwack, but when I went over to the trunk to see if my swing cut any wood, the notch looked like the same size before I chopped the trunk. Who knew that wood was so tough?


    After a couple minutes of swinging, I checked again. There didn''t seem to be a big difference in the trunk though how was I supposed to know without a measuring stick? I think I might have cut about half a centimeter into the trunk.


    I swung the axe a couple of more times before putting it down. I think the blade of the axe was dull because there''s no way people back in the eighteenth century were able to cut trees in a reasonable amount of time if all their axes were like this. My arms were on fire, and my back was sore.


    "You want me to take over?"


    I turned around and saw Leon. "Yeah," I said. "Go for it."


    He grabbed the axe and began swinging at the tree. There were small splinters of wood that flew from the trunk.


    "You should probably sit farther back," he said. "I don''t want you to get hurt by the wood splinters."


    "Yeah," I said and stood up, backing away from the sycamore that we were cutting. "Actually, I''m going to go and help Mira and May with their stick gathering."


    "You can stay if you want to," he said. "I feel like we haven''t really talked that much."


    "Sure, I''ll stay," I said.


    I sat on a wood stump a safe distance away from the sycamore tree while Leon cut the tree. "You play any sports?" Leon asked.


    "Table tennis a couple years back," I replied. "Badminton recently."


    "Ever try out for the team?"


    "Too competitive. I wouldn''t even be able to substitute for the JV team," I said. "And I''ve never really been into sports."


    "That''s cool," he said and nodded, wiping his forehead. "Man, it''s hot out here."


    It really wasn''t that warm that day. The afternoon we were chopping down wood was about the low sixties, which, I guess, was warm because the past couple of days had been in the mid to low fifties.


    Leon was sweating like a bull, and he pulled up the hem of his t-shirt and took it off. He was well built, to say the least. I don''t know why, but I started blushing all of a sudden. I don''t know, but I felt, I guess, jealous, almost. I don''t even know. I think Leon thought that I was staring because he started giving me a weird look.


    "Did you play any sports?" I blurted out.


    "Volleyball mostly," he said. "I used to do it competitively in high school, but in college, I mostly played it with my friends."


    I nodded and tried to look into the distance as Leon chopped the trunk, but for some reason, my eyes just kept drifting towards Leon''s body. I don''t even know why they were doing that. They just did it. I don''t think he noticed, but this was just so awkward. Maybe something is wrong with me. Correction, something is definitely wrong with me.


    "Mira told me that you like to read," Leon said all of a sudden.


    "Yeah," I said.


    "So what types of books do you read?" he asked. "Tolkien? Fitzgerald? King?"


    "They''re too old," I said. "I like more modern books."


    "That''s cool," he said. "Any suggestions?"


    "What genre?"


    "Horror," he said. "Or one of those really detailed fantasy novels."


    "Sorry, I don''t really read in those genres," I replied and shuffled leaves on the ground with my foot.


    "So what do you like to read?"


    I shrugged. "Mostly coming-of-age stories."


    "Any favorites?"


    "They''re all fine."


    There was another silence. Leon had hacked through half of the trunk as a soft wind gusted through the woods, picking up the damp leaves scattered across the ground. The branches were all bare on the sycamore trees. The only trees that were covered in green were the pine trees that dotted the woods.


    I heard the soft crinkle of leaves, and I looked back. Dad was carrying a bag filled with twigs and branches and Mira and May were behind him, talking to each other. Leon turned towards them and waved. May looked at me and mouthed, "Hot."


    I shook my head at May and looked at the ground. Mira walked up to Leon. "You''re gross and sweaty right now. Go shower when we get home."


    "Yes boss," Leon said and saluted.


    Mira laughed and they shared a kiss.


    "Too much PDA," May said and Leon abruptly broke from their kiss, blushing.


    "Are you close to cutting down the tree?" Dad asked.


    "I only need a couple of more minutes," Leon said.


    "Do we have a whetstone or something to sharpen the axe?" I asked.


    "Maybe in the garage," Dad said. "But we''ll have to make do with whatever we have now."


    Leon swung the axe a couple of more times at the tree. The branches rustled against each other, but the tree wasn''t getting any closer to falling down.


    "What about the Hunters'' house?" I asked. "They used to go camping and fishing a lot. Maybe¡ª"


    "We''re not going into other people''s houses," Dad said. "That''s a line that I''m not willing to cross."


    "But they¡ª"


    "No," Dad said. "And I don''t want to hear any more of it."


    "Whatever," I said and sat down.


    The wind gusted through the forest, picking up the dried leaves and tossed them around. Our whole family stood there and watched Leon try to chop the tree down. Dad offered to help, but Leon said that he''d go and finish the job. There was nothing much for the rest of us to do because all of our twig bags were filled, so we just waited and watched.


    Sweat dripped down his back and stomach. I have never seen a person that sweat so much, but maybe that''s because I only swung the axe for about five or ten minutes before handing it off to Leon. All of a sudden, the tree started swaying back and forth. "Kids," Dad said. "The tree''s going to fall soon. I want you guys to stand a hundred feet away from the tree."


    "How are we supposed to know what''s a hundred feet?" May asked. "It''s not like we have a ruler or something."


    "Stand around that black rock." Dad pointed into the distance.


    "And what are you guys going to be doing here?" I asked.


    "Just finishing up cutting down the tree," Dad replied. "The tree is going to fall away from the direction we''re cutting, but I want you guys to be safe just in case something goes wrong."


    "Be safe," Mira said to Leon as we walked to the boulder.


    "Don''t worry," Leon said. "I''m not going to get hurt, especially not by a falling tree."


    "Just stay safe."


    We walked all the way to the dark boulder and over there, Mira flashed Dad a thumbs up, and they resumed their wood chopping. The tree swayed and teetered. Mira looked at the scene nervously. I''d be nervous too because if the tree fell on them, there would be no ambulances to pick them up and who knows if the hospitals are even functioning?


    Very luckily for everyone involved, Leon chopped the tree and it fell down away from him. Dad motioned for us to come back to the tree, and we all looked at the log on the ground, all of us suddenly realizing something.


    "So," I said. "How are we going to take it home?"


    "We''re going to need a sharper axe," May said. "That''s for sure."


    "Maybe start at the top," Mira suggested. "And then cut down the tree."


    "No," Leon said. "The wood on top isn''t good. It''s too green and too wet. The wood on the bottom of the tree is better for fires."


    "So what are we going to do?" I asked and turned to the side. "Dad?"


    "Does anyone here know how to make a whetstone," Dad asked.


    "Nope," I replied. "Maybe the library."


    "You and Mira can go there tomorrow," Dad said. "You guys brought back books about survival, right?"


    "Yeah," Mira said. "Hunting, gathering, planting. All that kind of stuff."


    "I''ll search through them to check if there''s anything about sharpening tools."


    "I can''t go to the library tomorrow, Dad," I said. "I''ve got to go to Charles'' garden."


    "That''s fine," Leon said. "I can go to the library."


    "Then I''m coming too," May said. "I''m sick and tired of being at home all day. I''ll even spy on Mira and Leon to make sure they don''t do weird stuff."


    "So what are we going to do with this tree?" I asked.


    "There''s nothing we can do," Dad said. "Hopefully, someone with a chainsaw doesn''t come here and take our tree."


    "This definitely feels like a California chainsaw tree massacre," Leon said all of a sudden and everyone looked at him.


    Dad was not amused. May was just plain confused because she didn''t understand the reference. I cringed a little on the inside. Mira was the only one to smile.


    "Was that too much?" he asked.


    "No," Mira said. "C''mon let''s head back now."


    Mom was very surprised that we came home without any wood logs and only bags of twigs. Dad was so tired that he just took a quick shower and went right to bed. Same things with Leon. At six, both of the men were snoring and fast asleep.


    The rest of us were sitting at the dining table, spooning in mushy corn and string beans in silence. We didn''t want to wake them up. May turned towards me and whispered, "At least there''s one thing they have in common."

 Chapter 11, Part 3

    August 2


    It was pretty cold this morning, and the sky was dark like usual. It always seems to fluctuate between various shades of gray, and nothing more. No blues or anything. Just plain, dark gray skies every single day.


    None of us had much energy after yesterday. Mira tried to wake Leon up, but he shrugged her off and went back to sleep, so they put off going to the library. Mom woke up sometime around noon and went to the garage to tinker with the lights and plants. Grandma and Grandpa were in their room, reading the Chinese Bible or something.


    "I''m going to the garden today," I shouted to Mom in the garage.


    "Be safe and come back in an hour," she replied.


    "You don''t need to keep reminding me of that. I already know."


    "I''m your mother," she shouted back. "This is what I do."


    I put on an air mask and walked outside. The wind whipped up browned leaves and the sky looked like it was going to weep, not raindrops but ashy snowflakes. The smell of brine was strong in the air, and I could hear the faint roars of crashing waves.


    Everything was just empty. It felt like no one lives here anymore, and everyone has moved on to better places down south, not the Deep South, but places like Texas and New Mexico. The abandoned houses felt like monuments from a distant past, even though the Mooncrash only happened three months back.


    I opened the gate for the garden and immediately noticed that something was wrong.


    The wire-fencing surrounding the garden had a wide gash in it and was torn open. The plants were scattered around, some leaves on the ground torn and ripped. I moved closer to the raised beds of crops. There were big holes in the ground where the tomato and zucchini plants used to be. Someone must''ve ripped out all these plants and just taken them. But they didn''t need to rip out all the other plants or tear their leaves and prevent me from reviving them.


    I don''t know why, but I decided to go to Charles'' house to see if he knew about what happened. Snow began to fall down from the sky, I wasn''t sure if it was ash snow or real snow, the kind I only see when we go to Lake Tahoe in the winter. But when I reached out to touch one of the flakes, it lingered on the tip of my finger, a dark smudging on my skin.


    I adjusted my mask, making sure that it fully covered my nose, and picked up the pace. Mom would kill me if she found out that I didn''t head home immediately when the ashfall started, but I had to let Charles know.


    I turned a corner and walked down Charles'' street. Pure silence greeted me, even when I stood in front of his house. It''s like if I didn''t know he lived there, I would think his house was abandoned. I stepped in front of his doorway and nearly rang the bell before I realized that the doorbell wouldn''t work without electricity.


    When I knocked on the door, there was no response at first. I thought I was at the wrong house or maybe I was hallucinating and just knocked on some random door or something. But then I heard this flurry of movement. Heavy footsteps on the ground and a clink of metal before some muffled shouting. "It''s Neal, Mom and Dad."


    Charles opened the door. His parents were behind him, giving me a weak smile. They all looked pretty bad with bags around their eyes and thinner faces. One can a day for one or two months must''ve been awful. I can''t even imagine what they were going through.


    "Is this a bad time?" I asked. "I can come back later if you want."


    "We can talk outside," he said and stepped outside.


    "Don''t you need your mask?"


    "We''re only going to be out here for a couple minutes, right?" he asked. "Unless you''re going to give me a whole lecture about something."


    "When have I ever given out lectures?" I asked.


    "Remember that time when we were arguing about axes and swords and gave me a whole lecture about how the rise of armored knights led to the rise in axe usage?"


    "How could I forget?" I replied and chuckled softly. "Axes are still better than swords."


    "I see time hasn''t made you any smarter. But someday, you''ll see the light," he said and sat down on a bench on his porch. "So what urgent thing did you come to see me about?"


    "Did you hear about¡ª"


    "The garden?" he asked, and I nodded. "Yeah. I saw it yesterday."


    "What happened?"


    "Someone must''ve broken into the garden," he said. "The gate never had any lock on it, so thinking about it now, it was only a matter of time before someone found out what we were growing."


    "But what about the torn fencing? Who would tear down the fence protecting the garden?"


    "Who knows?" Charles said and sighed. "Someone could''ve done it just because they wanted too, and since it feels like the end of the world, why not? Maybe a deer or something broke it down. I don''t know."


    "All I know is that when the fence came down," he said. "The rabbits came in and ate anything that was left, and by the time I reached the garden, everything was torn to shreds."


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    "You salvage anything?" I asked.


    "A couple of onions and garlic," he said. "All the tomatoes and zucchinis were gone. You want some? I know we were supposed to split them in half."


    "Keep them," I said. "Your family would need it more than mine."


    We sat there in silence. The powdery ash floated through the air like dainty snowflakes, smearing my world with a whitish gray. I stood up.


    "My parents are going to kill me if I don''t get home soon," I said and turned to face him as I walked away. "If you need anything, you tell me. I''ll still see you on Fridays in the garden."


    He nodded and waved at me. "Goodbye."


    "Goodbye."


    I hustled home, hoping that Mom wouldn''t kill me for staying out during an ashfall. Another volcano up north must''ve erupted. It''s been a month after the initial wave of eruptions, and there are no signs that the volcanoes are going to stop. Is this what life is going to be like from now on? Tinted with shades of gray and hunger.


    When I opened the door, Mom pounced onto me. "What were you doing out there during the ash storm? You could''ve gotten seriously hurt."


    "I didn''t know that it was that bad," I lied.


    "Look outside," she said. "It''s snowing flurries of ash. Your father and I are going to have to scrape ash off the rooftop tomorrow."


    "I didn''t see any ash in the garden," I lied. "It''s kinda like rain. Some places get really hard rainfall while other places that are also pretty close by don''t get a lot of rainfall even though the storm is above both places. It has to do with the raindrop density¡ª"


    "Just be careful," Mom said. "I want you to have some freedom since we''re all crammed together in the house, but I don''t want you to get hurt."


    I''m such a liar. I knowingly put myself in danger and scared Mom, and then lied to her about it. I''m such a terrible person.


    August 3


    Mira and Dad argued today. The flurries of ash just keep piling up, and it feels like the sun will never reappear again.


    Mira and Leon asked Mom and Dad about the whole family leaving for New Mexico, and it went about as well as I had expected it to go.


    "So, Mom," Mira said and leaned against the table. "Leon and I have been talking, and we think it would be best if everyone comes to where he''s going."


    "We can''t leave," Mom said.


    "The South is going to be better," Leon said. "There''s fuel and the sky is clearer and the weather is going to be warmer."


    "Look, I don''t know about moving," Mom said. "Especially all of us. It''s risky and look at the weather outside. This is what we''re all going to drive in for two hundred, three hundred miles until we reach New Mexico."


    "Mom, I get you''re worried," Mira replied. "But look at the world around us. The volcanoes are erupting harder, and the weather is getting colder and colder. This might be our only chance to go to better places."


    "How is this even going to work?" Mom asked. "We can''t fit everyone into the car, and it''s not going to be safe traveling around with so many people."


    "Mira and I can head out first. And my family will be able to pick up you all once I reach them," he said. "We''ve got plenty of food and enough fuel to make it to New Mexico."


    As Leon was speaking, Dad entered the room, and this was when everything exploded. "What''s this talk about all of us leaving?!"


    "Leon and¡ª"


    "No," Dad said. "We''re all not going to leave."


    "But the weather¡ª" Leon said.


    "But what if the weather isn''t warmer down south," Dad said. "What if the oil rigs and natural gas processing centers got shut down by the ashfall? There has been radio silence for a month now, and we don''t know what the conditions are there."


    "The rumors¡ª" Leon said again before being cut off.


    "Rumors!" Dad exclaimed. "You''re justifying moving all of us down based on a rumor. Maybe the rumors are true. Maybe the conditions down there are great and there''s plenty of food and water and fuel to go around. Then everyone would be down there, and they''d have to remove people, and everyone who is removed would starve or freeze to death."


    "My family has got a house in New Mexico," Leon said. "We''d be guaranteed an entry into New Mexico."


    "Okay," Dad said. "But maybe the rumors are all wrong. Maybe the South has become a frozen wasteland with everyone fighting over whatever resources are left. Then what are we all going to do."


    "We have to hope, Dad," Mira said. "We have to hope that conditions are better down there. We can''t be this hopeless and cynical."


    "What you have isn''t hope," Dad said. "It''s a delusion. Pure and simple delusion. I have hope. I do believe that the world will become better again someday in the future, but I''m realistic, and you both cannot keep holding onto these delusional fantasies."


    "So what?" Mira spat out. "Let''s say we stay here, and then what? It''s the middle of August and the temperatures are getting closer and closer to freezing every day. By the time winter comes, temperatures might be below zero, and we''ll be stuck here, and we''ll all freeze to death. Is that what you want?"


    "The government is more likely to fix things by the time winter comes than our chances of making it to the South and there being some haven down there."


    "How is the government going to fix everything?" Mira said. "Look at the world around us. If the government can''t help us now, then what makes you think we''re going to get help when things get worse."


    "What makes you think that the South will be any better?"


    Both of their arguments hit a brick wall. I still don''t know who I''d agree with more. Dad did make a good point about New Mexico and the South. We just don''t know what the conditions are like down there. For all we know, the South could be having the same problems as us, covered in ash and slowly freezing. But at the same time, I don''t know how long we''re going to be able to stay here. One day, we''re going to run out of food, and then what? We''ll be trapped in this town until the day we starve to death.


    Mom stepped in between Dad and Mira during the break in the argument to try to end this fight before it got any more heated. Mira was glaring daggers at Dad and Dad looked like a volcano about to erupt.


    "You guys can stop arguing now," Mom said.


    "Don''t listen to Mom," May said. "Keep arguing. This is the most entertainment I''ve had in days."


    "May," Mom said and put on her stern face. "Not right now."


    "What?" she said and shrugged. "I''m just trying to reverse psychology them into not arguing."


    "There''s a better time and place and, especially, tone for this discussion," Mom said. "Yelling at each other in the living room is not an appropriate way to discuss this."


    "As for what you two have been yelling at each other about, I''d have to agree with your father here, Mira," Mom said. "It''s just too risky for all of us to go to the South."


    "So it''s alright if I go and die in the South?" Mira asked. "That''s alright with you guys."


    "You know that''s not what I meant," Mom said. "You''re an adult, and you can make the best decisions for yourself. But Neal and May are still kids, and my parents won''t be able to travel well, and they are our responsibility, and right now, the best option for us is to stay and hope things will get better."


    That was a pretty skillful deconstruction of an argument. Mira and Dad didn''t yell at each other for the rest of the day, but you could see the tension in the air. Mira wouldn''t even sit in the same room with Dad, and neither would Dad. During dinner, both of them went to their rooms and ate dinner apart from each other. Leon joined Mira in the room, leaving me, Mom, and May just awkwardly eating mushy corn.


    I think Mira is going to leave. It makes sense for her to leave us all behind. She''s an adult now. It''s time for her to open her wings and fly to better places with the person she loves. There''s no way that Leon would come to our house and propose to her if they didn''t share that connection.

 Chapter 11, Part 4

    August 4


    Lots of big news today, and Mom and May are still up working. Hopefully, everything goes great tomorrow.


    When I was eating my sad can of food for breakfast, Mira came to me. "Can we talk about something?"


    "Uh, sure," I said. "What? Is there a funeral or something because it sounds like someone has died."


    "Do I look that bad?" she asked. "Yeah, probably. It''s just that I''ve been up all night thinking."


    "About what?"


    "I was wondering about what you think of me leaving with Leon to New Mexico."


    "I mean, I think that it''s a fine idea."


    "I''m serious," she said. "What do you really think? Just anything that pops into your head. I want you to be honest with me."


    "You''re the adult here," I said. "Make the best choice here for yourself. You know, follow your heart."


    "Don''t give me that follow your heart crap," she said and sighed. "But what if, by following my heart, the choice that I make hurts someone else."


    "So, you''re leaning towards leaving," I said.


    "I never said that."


    "You inferred it. You''re afraid that leaving would hurt Mom and Dad," I said. "I mean, of course, it''ll hurt them, but they''ve made peace with the idea of you leaving."


    "How do you know?"


    "Just trust me on this," I replied. There was no way that I was going to tell her that I overheard Mom and Dad''s conversation because that would be too weird.


    "So what about you?" Mira asked.


    I shrugged. "I guess. It''ll feel like you''ve gone to college. Maybe that''s how Mom and Dad would cope with it. Just pretend that you''ve gone off to college and will be returning sometime in the future."


    "Except I''ll never return," she said. "And the way I left things with Dad... I don''t want this argument to be the last thing we ever talk about."


    "You might return," I said. "Maybe things are better in the South, and you''d get enough food and fuel to drive all the way up here to pick us up and take us to better places. And once we all go to the South, we''d eat pizza and steak every day because they''ve got plenty of food."


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    "And we''d binge watch all the TV shows that we were missing out on," she added. "And we''d actually be able to see when the sun sets because the lights will work. And the dishwashers too. God, I hate washing dishes."


    We both laughed for a couple of seconds. Washing dishes was really sucky. "Just think of everything that could be better in the South," I said.


    "But," she said and stopped for a second. "But what if Dad''s right and the South is really just as bad as it is up here?"


    "It''s a risk you''re going to have to take if you want to leave," I said. "Just do whatever feels right."


    There were a couple moments of silence before I could hear footsteps creaking down the hallway. I looked up. It was Dad and Mom, with Dad trudging sullenly ahead.


    "Hey Mira," Dad said.


    "Dad," Mira replied coldly. "What do you want?"


    Dad sighed. "Look, I just want¡ª" He stopped and looked at Mom, and Mom gave him her stern face back, telling him there is no escape from whatever he has to say to Mira.


    "I just want to apologize about what happened yesterday," he said. "I shouldn''t have yelled at you like that or called you delusional."


    I was shocked. I think Mira was too. If there is one thing that all of us in this family share, is that we''re unapologetic to each other. I don''t even remember the last time that I said sorry to anyone in the family, like I was deeply regretful about what happened and not a casual apology.


    "Well, uh, thank you, Dad," Mira said. "I just want to apologize for yesterday too."


    There was an awkward silence. Mira was looking out of the window, and Dad was looking at the ground and tapping his toes.


    "So," Mom said. "Are you planning on leaving on Sunday?"


    "I still need to think about it," Mira said. "Maybe talk it out with Leon a little bit. I don''t know."


    "Well, I just want to let you know that we''ll both support whatever decision you decide to make."


    "And about the whole family?"


    Mom sighed. "You father and I talked about it, and we just can''t go. It''s too much of a risk for parents and Neal and May."


    Mira nodded and didn''t say anything back. There was nothing she could say to make Mom and Dad change their minds. They were set on staying where we are to weather it out until things get better.


    Just then, Leon woke up, running his eyes and walking into the room, rubbing his eyes. His hair was a mess, bits and pieces sticking out, and he yawned. He looked around the room. "Hey Mira," he said. "Hey guys."


    We all stared back at him. "Is there something important going on right now," he said. "I can leave if you guys need some privacy."


    "You don''t need to leave. We''re just about finished over here," Mom said and looked at Dad. "Now, go and help me with the greenhouse in the garage. We need to set up the heating system."


    Mom and Dad left and disappeared into the garage.


    "So I take it that all of us aren''t leaving," Leon said.


    "Too risky," Mira said. "Told you it wasn''t going to work."


    "Well, it was worth a try," he replied. "That''s the best we can do nowadays."


    They began talking about other things as I picked up my emptied can and put it in the sink. Mom has been collecting cans now because she says she wants to use them to hold the plants when the garden gets up and running. I don''t know how much progress they''ve made yet, but I hope they''ve done something about the heating situation. Temperatures hang at about the low fifties in the middle of the day and dip to the mid-thirties at night. I can''t even imagine how cold it is going to get in the winter.

 Chapter 11, Part 5

    Everyone shuffled around in the house and mostly nothing happened. It wasn''t until I was heading back to my room to re-read one of my fantasy books, when I heard the big news. I heard Mira and Leon talking, and I was going to quickly dash in and grab the book when I heard what they were talking about.


    "Can we talk about the whole leaving situation?" Leon asked.


    I paused in the hallway. This seemed like an important discussion, and I didn''t want to awkwardly interrupt what they were walking about.


    "I''ve been thinking about it a lot..." Mira said and there was a pause.


    "Don''t leave me hanging," Leon said. "So have you decided or maybe, are leaning towards one side or the other."


    "I¡ª" Mira said. "This¡ª It''s so hard."


    "Look, Mira. I love you," he said. "And I''m going to be here and support whatever decision you decide to make."


    "But we don''t have a lot of time left," he said. "And I don''t want to pressure you or anything."


    "I know," she said. "God! I hate the apocalypse."


    "Don''t we all," he said. "We''ve got to just make the best with the world that we''ve got."


    "I just wish we were on a better Earth," she said. "A mirror image of ours except the air is cleaner and the tides had receded, and we''d still be in college worrying about stupid things like our professors and grades and dates¡ª"


    "Were our dates really that bad?" Leon interjected playfully. "I''m just joking."


    "You know, stupidly, I don''t know the word, not unmeaningful or insignificant, but it''s like we used to worry about things that never meant life-or-death. It''s like everything before was stupidly unserious when you put everything in context to what''s happening right now."


    There was a moment of silence.


    "This might seem random," Mira said. "But, what''s your biggest regret?"


    "I mean I have a lot of them," he said. "I regret not meeting you earlier¡ª"


    "Leon. I''m trying to be serious."


    "Okay, okay," he said. "I guess, my biggest regret, or actually it''d be better to call it a ''would be'' regret, was with my Dad. You know that a couple of years back he had a heart attack."


    "Really?" Mira asked. "I thought he was all into the wellness eating program. You know, no refined carbs and fresh vegetables every day"


    "That happened after the heart attack," Leon said. "Same thing with his obsession with exercise."


    "So what happened?"


    "Well my Dad and I got into a fight over something stupid. I don''t even remember," he said. "And I just ignored his phone calls for a couple of days. It wasn''t until a phone call from Phillip that I realized that Dad had a heart attack."


    Leon continued, "You know, at the moment, I thought that Dad was going to die. You know all those people that seize up in the hospital movies."


    "Yeah," Mira said.


    "Well, I thought Dad was like that, seizing up in a stretcher, with the EMTs trying to resuscitate him," he said. "Well, that day was the day I found out about the difference between cardiac arrest and a heart attack."


    "There''s a difference?"


    "Yeah," Leon said. "Cardiac arrest is when the heart stops. Heart attack is when your heart is clogged or something like that. Biology was not my strong subject."


    "But how was this your biggest regret?" she asked. "Your Dad was alright in the end though."


    "Yeah," he said. "But for those couple hours, I thought he was dying, and my biggest regret was just leaving everything unfinished with him. My last talk with him couldn''t be a stupid argument over nothing."


    "And that''s what makes it a would-be regret because my dad ended up being alright in the end, but those couple of hours of just thinking that Dad was not alright was just scary."


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    "So, why did you want to know?"


    There was a bit of silence, and I could hear Mira take a deep breath. "Leon."


    "Mhmm," he said.


    "I¡ª I think I''m going to stay," she said.


    "Why?" he blurted out and quietly added. "Sorry. You don''t need to answer that if you don''t want to."


    "No," she said. "I should."


    "It''s just that ever since I''ve gone to college, I feel like my relationship with my family has gotten worse," she said. "I mean, it''s gotten better these few months. May doesn''t hate me. Mom and Dad and I aren''t arguing as much. Neal has at least opened up a little more, but I just can''t leave this behind. I have to fix things up with my family. I''m sorry."


    "Hey, there''s no need to be sorry," he said. "Come here."


    There was some ruffling of sheets and I think they hugged each other. "You know I''ll always love you."


    "And I''ll always love you too," she said. "And you''re not mad about this?"


    "I¡ª I mean I would''ve liked it if you came with me," he said. "But I get where you''re coming from, you know. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices to mend things with our families."


    "And you can''t stay?"


    "I wish I could," he said. "But I''ve got some family that needs me, and I just can''t leave them behind. I''m sorry."


    There was this silence, and I think both of them were crying. I was going to awkwardly sneak into the room to grab the book when Mira said, "I think we should get married."


    "Are you sure?" he asked. "Maybe we should do this some other time when¡ª"


    "I''m sure," she said. "Let''s do this. Let''s get married."


    "Okay," he said. "Okay. You know what, I''m going to find the ring, so we can do this properly."


    "And I''ll just sit here and pretend that I have no idea about what''s going to happen."


    "That''s cool with me," he said. "You know, we gotta fake it till we make it."


    There was a shuffling of clothes and papers, and Leon was muttering under his breath.


    "You need any help?" Mira asked.


    "No, I think I got this," he said and there was a little more shuffling of things around. "Found it!"


    "Great!" she said. "Do you want to start this, I guess, reenactment almost?"


    "Sure," he said. "I''m just going to go over there and pretend that I''m walking in."


    There were some footsteps on the ground, and I believe that Leon moved to a corner of the room. "Hey, Mira."


    "Hey, Leon," she said. "So..."


    "Yeah," he said. "This reenactment isn''t going so well."


    They both chuckled nervously.


    "You know what? Screw this reenactment," Leon said and presumably kneeled. "Mira, will you marry me?"


    "Yes," she said. "Yes, I will."


    "So your parents are going to be alright with this?"


    "Who cares about my parents?" she said. "It''s already too late for them to stop us."


    They walked out of the room and Mira saw me in the hallway. "Were you standing here the whole time?"


    "No," I blurted out, but then I felt bad about completely lying. "Only for a small part. I did want to disturb you guys because you know, the hallway is pretty creaky, and, uh, congratulations."


    "Thanks," Mira said. "What do you think Mom and Dad are going to say? Ten bucks that Dad has a meltdown."


    "Nah," I said. "They''re going to be happy for you. You probably should call them up from the garage."


    "Mom! Dad!" Mira shouted. "We have something to tell you guys."


    Mom and Dad came out from the garage. They looked concerned, like they really thought Mira was leaving.


    "We have something to tell you," Mira said and gave Leon a quick glance.


    "I''m not leaving with Leon," Mira said. Mom and Dad let out a sigh. While I think that they made peace with Mira leaving, they just didn''t want her to leave.


    "Well," Mom said. "I''m glad that you made the best choice for you."


    "But, I''ve decided to get married to Leon," she said. "I love him, and I believe that it''s the right choice to get married."


    "But, aren''t you a little young to get married?" Mom said. "Your father and I got married at thirty and you''re barely over twenty."


    "You didn''t pressure my daughter to get married, right?" Dad asked Leon.


    "No, no. Of course not," Leon said. "We both made this decision together."


    "You sure?" Dad asked and looked at Mira.


    "Absolutely," Mira said.


    "So, are we going to be having a wedding tomorrow?" May asked. No one had noticed that she had entered the hallway.


    "I''m thinking about something small," Leon said. "You know, maybe a private ceremony in the living room, or something that''ll work for you guys."


    "If you guys are going to get married," Dad said. "Then we all might as well go big. It''s tradition on my side of the family to have massive weddings."


    "Yeah," May added. "One of Dad''s cousins had an elephant in their wedding. It was pretty wild."


    "Well, I guess so," Leon said and looked at Mira. "What do you think?"


    "You know what," Mira said. "Let''s do it. Let''s have the biggest, best apocalypse wedding that anyone could wish for."


    "Does anyone know how weddings work?" I asked.


    "There are, like, bridesmaids and best men and stuff like that," May said. "I don''t know. We''ll figure it out. It''s the same thing with Indian weddings. There is some ceremony and then some other stuff happens. I''m honestly not sure. Any thoughts, Dad?"


    "There''s not enough time or resources to have a proper Indian wedding," Dad said. "We can just do what we did in your Mom and I''s wedding."


    "Which was?"


    "We just dressed up and took some photos," Mom said. "Then, we had an American wedding."


    "I''m sure we can figure out a way to have a nice, multicultural wedding," Mira said.


    ''So let''s start planning," May said. "I finally actually have something to do other than just dying from boredom. Let''s have the best apocalypse wedding that anyone could hope for."


    So pretty much everyone went to start planning. Mom and Mira went to go and try on Mom''s old wedding dress, with Grandma helping them with the fitting and in case the dress is ripped in places and needs to be repaired. Dad and Leon went to the closet to pick out a nice tuxedo. May wrote stuff down and ordered me around. Right now, I''m cutting up construction paper for paper flowers in between writing in this journal, and I think May is looking for the polaroid camera or something. I''ve got a lot of work to do, so I''m going to end this entry here.


    But all I know is this: Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

 Chapter 12, Part 1

    August 5th


    What a day! There''s just so much that happened.


    A couple of hours after I finished writing yesterday''s entry, May practically lost all of her steam and went to sleep at what I felt like was eleven at night. Mom and Dad spent most of the night preparing the wedding, both of them sleeping sometime after midnight, which was when I went to sleep.


    They woke up early in the morning to just set everything up and move furniture around to make space. It was snowing outside, small gray flakes of ash from volcanoes hundreds of miles away were falling on the dead grass. Who knew that a summer wedding would turn into what feels like a winter wonderland? Who even expected that a wedding would happen?


    Mom and Dad cleared out an empty space in the middle of the living room and brought the dining room chairs for us to sit in. We had some string up lights for Christmas that haven''t been used since second or third grade when we stopped setting up the Christmas tree, partially because the last time we did this, no one bothered to take down the Christmas tree until the middle of summer.


    May and I also cut out flowers from paper and pasted it onto a banner that would be behind where Mira and Leon would exchange their vows. I also found some green yarn and twisted it around the chairs and pasted the remaining paper flowers on the chairs because we might as well make use of our resources. We were going to have a very floral wedding, which was pretty ironic since all the flowers are dead from the ashfall.


    Grandma and Grandpa did all the cooking in the morning for the wedding, taking out cans and bags of flour. "But what about the whole conserving food thing?" I asked Mom.


    "We''ll figure it out later," Mom said. "It''s a wedding. We can figure out how we''re going to make it past afterwards."


    The delicious aroma of what Grandma and Grandpa were cooking wafted through the air as they cut scallions and scattered them on flat cakes of flour before pan-frying them, and all of a sudden, I thought of something. "Is it alright if I bring a friend over?" I asked.


    "You''d probably have to ask Mira about that," Mom said. "She''ll probably say yes though but ask her just in case. You don''t want to mess up her day."


    Dad called Mom''s name after that, probably to help him with finding some wedding gifts for Leon. We''ve got a mountain of old vintage things in and around the garage, hiding in old cardboard boxes. Dad moved some of them around and into the closet by the garage when we made space for the greenhouse and wood storage pile, so that''s probably why Dad was calling for her.


    I walked towards Mira''s room. It was closed, and I didn''t want to catch her off guard, so I knocked on the door.


    "If it''s you, Leon, I told you that visiting the bride before the wedding is bad luck," she shouted.


    "Well, luckily for you, this is not Leon," I said. "Can I come in?"


    "Yeah," she said. "Just wait a sec."


    There was some shuffling of footsteps before she opened the door. She was dressed in a long, white gown that swept across the ground, trailing a couple of feet behind her. Her hair was done all fancy and she was smiling.


    "So, how do I look?" she asked.


    "You look fine," I said.


    "Only fine?" she asked.


    "You look great," I said.


    "I feel terrible," she said. "And this dress is so long that every time that I stand up, I feel like I''m going to trip over it and my makeup is smudged and¡ª"


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    "Is something wrong?" I asked.


    She sighed. "I''m so nervous."


    "You''ll be fine," I said. "You''ve done scarier things before. How bad can a wedding be compared to bungee jumping at one of those amusement parts? A wedding should be a piece of cake."


    "But that''s bungee jumping," she replied. "All you''re doing is just taking a chance at a moment. You don''t have to think about what comes after. You just close your eyes and fall. You can''t do this with a wedding because things happen afterwards, and it''s just stressful to live with the consequences of what happens afterwards."


    "What''s the worst that could happen afterwards?" I asked.


    "I could mess everything up," she said. "Maybe I''ll forget my vows or¡ª"


    "You won''t," I said. "And who cares about forgetting your vows? None of us will hold it against you¡ª"


    "I care," she said. "I don''t know why, but I care a lot."


    "This is about Leon leaving, isn''t it?"


    There was silence in the room. She looked down at her engagement ring.


    "This day might be the last time I''ll ever see him," she said. "I just want everything to go perfectly today because I want his last impression of me to be good, not embarrassing or anything."


    "And everything will go alright," I said and leaned against the door frame.


    "Oh, yeah," she said. "Sorry for putting all my stress and anxiety onto you. You came here to talk to me about something."


    "Uh, yeah. I was just wondering if it''d be alright if I invited Charles over," I said. "If you''re not alright with it then that''s totally fine¡ª"


    "Bring him over," she said. "If this is my last wedding, I might as well make it big."


    "And his family?"


    "Sure," Mira said.


    I turned towards the door and looked back. Mira was fidgeting with her dress.


    "You''re going to be fine," I said.


    "Thanks," she said with a little smile. "Make sure to get them quickly."


    So I put on my mask and told Mom that I was going out to see if Charles wanted to come to the wedding. The ashfall that buried our backyard in the morning had stopped, and the sky was merely a dark shade of gray. I had wished for the Moon to disappear, but did the world have to take the Sun along with it?


    The trees had shed all of their leaves and with the ash laying on top of the bare branches, it looked like it had been snowing. If I took a picture of that tree, you''d probably think that it was from some state in the Northeast, not here in coastal California where it never snows, and the sun is usually shining.


    When I reached Charles'' house and looked at it, I thought they had moved out. There was no light inside, not even shining through the thin curtains, and it was almost like nobody was there anymore and that they had moved on. I nearly didn''t knock on the door because it''d be awkward knocking on the door for an empty house, but I did so anyway because I knew that Charles wouldn''t leave without telling me.


    There was movement behind the door, but not the frenzied footsteps that I heard from a couple days ago, but more subdued and tired. The door opened, and I saw Charles. He looked pretty bad, deep bags underneath his eyes that made me feel his tiredness.


    "Hey," I said.


    "Hey."


    "You alright?" I asked even though I knew the answer.


    "We''re making it through," Charles said. "So, do you have the, you know?"


    "No, but I''ve got something better," I said. "My sister is getting married¡ª"


    "With everything that''s happening?"


    "Believe me. I''m pretty much as surprised as you are," I said. "Anyways, our family is making a bunch of food for the wedding, and it''ll be fun, and I was wondering if you or your family would be interested in coming."


    "Yeah, I can come," he said. "I don''t think my parents can though. They''ve¡ª"


    He took a deep breath. "They''ve sacrificed a lot."


    "We can bring some food back," I said. "My grandparents always make too much food anyways."


    "And your family won''t mind?"


    "Of course not," I said.


    The sky had begun to lightly snow ash again, little flakes of it drifting onto the patio and through his door. Charles stepped out and closed the door. "Do you think it''s snowing now?" he asked. "Actual snow, not ash."


    "Probably not," I said. "Maybe in the future, though. Who knows what''s going to happen after?"


    "Yeah," he said, and there was a silence between us before continuing. "You know what I just realized, I don''t have any suits or any formal wear for the wedding. I used to, but¡ª"


    "I think I''ve got a spare one," I said, knowing what had happened with his suit. "My dad definitely has a spare one, so you can take mine, and I''ll take my Dad''s one if things don''t work out."


    "Okay," he said and nodded. "Are we leaving now?"


    "Yeah, yeah," I said. "My sister told me to hurry back, so we''d probably want to do that."


    "I''ll be out in a minute," he said. "Just need to grab a mask and tell my parents."


    I waited for about a minute for him, and then once he appeared, we began to walk back. There was this awkward silence between us as the ocean gusts kicked up small clouds of ash, which skittered around before fading away. We talked about stuff for a solid minute or two during the twenty-minute walk, but it was more to fill the air with sound than to actually hold a conversation.

 Chapter 12, Part 2

    When I reached home, I knocked on the door, and Mom answered it. She looked at me.


    "What took you so long?" she asked, and then looked at Charles. "Oh, hey Charles."


    "Sorry my parents couldn''t make it," he said. "They send their congratulations to Mira and her fianc¨¦."


    "Thank you," Mom said. "Come on in. Sorry if it''s a bit of a mess."


    We stepped into the house. I smelled marinated canned pork and canned shrimp dumplings, and my mouth began to water. When I looked at Charles, I could see something dancing in his eyes, the flickering flame of hunger. It was so primeval and so alien at the same time.


    "Hey, Mom," I said. "We have to get dressed for the wedding, right?"


    "Of course," Mom said. "It''s a special occasion."


    "Do we still have my extra suit?" I asked. "I don''t remember wearing it, but¡ª"


    "I think I donated it to your cousin," Mom said. "It was too small anyways. The suit was barely fitting over your shoulders."


    "Dad has an extra suit, right?" I asked.


    "Maybe," she said. "Go check the closet. It''ll probably be there."


    We walked down the hallway and into Dad''s room. "Everything is pretty wild out there," he said.


    "Weddings are pretty wild," I said and looked through the closet. There were piles of formalwear, but none of these were suits. "Especially in my family. I mean one of my Dad''s cousins literally brought an elephant¡ª"


    "And elephant," he said. "Man, your family really hardcore."


    "Well, that''s my Dad''s side of the family for you," I said and rummaged through the piles of clothes. "Go big or go home."


    "Still can''t find it?"


    "Yeah," I said and scratched the back of my head. "I''ll go get my suit for you, and I''ll search through one of the drawers because it''s probably in there."


    I went into my room''s closet and grabbed my suit and the pants and button-up shirt that came with it. There was dust coating the top of the suit and I shook it off, watching it flit in the soft afternoon night. I don''t know why, but at that moment, it reminded me of a moment in my childhood when I''d stare at the air in front of the windows in the morning, watching the small flecks of dust drift up and down in the golden light.


    I went back to Dad''s room and gave Charles the suit and pants. "You need a belt?" I asked.


    "Probably yeah," he said. "Never liked to wear belts, but I think I''ll need one."


    I tossed him the belt. "You can dress in the bathroom. I''ll keep trying to find my dad''s suit."


    He nodded and closed the door while I dug deeper into the closet. After a solid five-ish minutes of searching, I found the suit vest, buried behind a mound of old shirts and pants that haven''t been touched for a solid year or two, and then, I went back to my room to grab some pants and a dress-shirt


    When I entered Dad''s room, Charles emerged from the bathroom. The suit hung limply from his body frame and his pants sagged a little, even with the belt wrapped around it tightly.


    "I look awful, don''t I?" he said.


    "You look great," I said. "You probably want a tie, right?"


    "You mean a choker," he said and for a second, I could feel a little bit of the old him. "Ties are basically legal stranglers."


    "Well you''re lucky that my dad agrees with you on this," I replied and looked through the closet. "And also, he''s really lazy when it comes to ties, which is why he has clip-on ties."


    I pulled his collection of them out. "Pick and choose whatever you want."


    "There are a lot of choices here," he replied and stared at the collection of ties.


    "And thus, the paradox of choice has been proven again," I said. "I''m going to get dressed now, so take all the time you need to choose."


    I went into the bathroom to get dressed. When I took off my t-shirt to put on the dress-shirt, looking in the mirror, probably for the first time in a long time, I realized that even I had lost some weight, much less than Charles, but enough that I''d notice. The small amount of fat that gathered itself in front of my stomach was basically gone, and my skin clung to my body frame. If I''m losing so much weight from a two can diet per day, who knows how long I''m going to even survive when the food runs dry?


    Anyway, when I exited the bathroom, Charles was holding up two ties, a red and a deep blue one. "Which one?" he asked.


    "Red," I said. "That was a completely random pick by the way. No clue about anything relating to fashion."


    He handed me the blue tie, and we both put them on. "How long is the wedding going to last?" he asked.


    "You have a curfew or something?"


    "No, I was just wondering," he said, and there was an awkward pause. "I''ve never really been to one. Probably won''t ever be in one with the whole world being the way that it is."


    "What would you want your wedding to be like?"


    "Tropical island," he said. "Beach sand on my toes. The soft waves rumbling in the distance. Palm fronds rustling above me. Warm air and sunlight everywhere. Plenty of food to go around. It would be paradise."


    Stolen novel; please report.


    "It would be," I said. "And once the volcanoes stop erupting and the skies clear up and the tides and beaches stabilize, you''ll be able to have this."


    "If only that could happen," he said and sighed. He looked like an old man at that moment, just tired and worn out with the whole world and everything that is happening. Is this what hunger does to you, sapping away all your energy and lust for life until you''re just a shadow of your former self?


    At that moment, Mom burst into the room. "Wedding is starting soon. You both look great."


    "C''mon," I said. "Probably don''t want to miss anything."


    We walked down the hallway into the living room. The dining table chairs were arranged in rows. Grandma, Grandpa, and May were already sitting down on one side, and Charles and I sat on the other side. I''m pretty sure there was some special way that we were supposed to sit, but I''m almost certain that that seating arrangement is religious and no one in our family is remotely religious.


    Leon was standing on the end of the living room, in front of the wedding banner that May and I made, fidgeting nervously. Dad was probably with Mira, and Mom was standing next to Leon, probably because she was the officiator for the wedding. I could see flurries of ash outside of the window. We were truly going to have a winter wedding in the middle of summer.


    Then, I heard footsteps behind me, and I looked back. Mira and Dad were walking up towards Leon and Mom. Mira has a smile plastered onto her face, but you could see her hand trembling and how concentrated she was, not on Leon, but on not tripping on her dress. Dad was beaming through, oddly enough with pride even though a couple of days back he completely opposed the whole marriage. I guess things change quickly in the apocalypse.


    When Mira reached Leon and Mom, Dad took a seat, and Mom opened her folded paper filled with notes and began officiating.


    "Welcome everyone," she said. "Today we are gathered here to celebrate the marriage between Mira and Leon. We all hope that they will have a happy marriage filled with joy, even if they may spend some of it apart."


    "Before Mira and Leon recite their vows, I''d like to talk about what marriage is," Mom said. "For some people, marriage is what happens when two people kiss each other during the ceremony and sign a piece of paper declaring that they''re married. But for your father and I, marriage is about more than that."


    "For us, marriage is about compromise. Marriage is about empathy. Marriage is about making sacrifices for each other. Marriage is about love. Marriage is about moving across the country, so that your husband can get a better job. Marriage is about changing your job to help take care of your children while your wife is at work. Marriage is about trust and understanding and knowing that everything won''t be perfect."


    "That''s what marriage is," Mom said and looked down at her paper. "Now, Mira and Leon, you may recite your vows."


    "Do you want to go first?" Leon said. "Or should I?"


    "You can go first," Mira said.


    "Okay," Leon said and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.


    "We could write down our vows?" Mira asked.


    "That''s what I thought," Leon said. "Wait, we aren''t supposed to?"


    "That''s what I thought, but¡ª"


    "Okay, can you guys just get on with it?" May asked. "No need for pointless arguments."


    Leon opened up his crumpled piece of paper and tried to smooth it out. His hands were trembling, and the edges of the paper were fluttering with every tremble. He cleared his throat. "Before I get started on my vows, I''d like to tell the story of how we met¡ª"


    "No," Mira said. "God, no."


    Leon smiled mischievously, and his hands stopped trembling as much. "It was on a hot summer day, one that was so hot that even our infamously cold beaches were warm. The smell of the ocean was strong, and the breeze was nice that day. It felt like paradise."


    "I don''t really remember what I was doing on the beach that day. It was some journalism project, probably for some beach cleaning program or something along the lines of that," he continued. "But the thing I remember was you, Mira. You were by the tidepools, standing on one of those rocks covered with red and green algae and staring into one of the pools. I guess I was curious about what you were doing. I had never seen anyone observe the tidepools before, and certainly never seen anyone do it so intensely."


    He took a deep breath. "So I went up to ask you about what you were looking at, but I don''t think you saw me because when I came up to you and said something, I forgot exactly, you jumped up and fell onto the beach, just as the waves came in and drenched your clothes."


    "I thought you''d be crying or something, but instead, you were laughing. Laughing of all things as sand clung to your hair and seawater soaked your pants," he said. "When I helped you up, you said¡ª"


    "Cheap move," Mira said. "And then, I pushed you into the ocean, so we''d be even."


    "I know it sounds cliche," he said. "And it probably is, but I felt something with you. Not love because that''d come later on, but this something that felt like possibility, like there was something for us in the future. And three years later, look where we are."


    "I''ll be here for you, always," he said. "Even when we might be a thousand miles apart, I''ll be here for you. I''ll always support your decisions, even when I may not agree with them sometimes. We might have fights and stupid arguments, but I''ll always love you. Always."


    There was a pause, and then Mom looked at Mira and nodded.


    "I don''t think I''ve ever told you what I was doing at the tidepools, have I?" Mira asked.


    "I don''t believe so," Leon said. "It''s still one of the great mysteries of life."


    "Well, then I should get a Nobel prize for telling you this," she said. "I was looking at a crab, scurrying from anemone filled pools to empty rock pools to pools filled with algae and limpets. I don''t know why I was fascinated, but it was just entrancing."


    "And that''s the thing about this is that it''s the little things in life that I remember the most," Mira said. "The coffee shop meet-ups, the dinners at the local restaurants, the movies that we watched in the movie theaters. All of those were sweet, and I cherish them deeply."


    "But the moment I knew I loved you was a small one," she said. "Two years back on the fourth of July. The night was warm, and the sky was bursting with colors. You were staring at the sky with this mixture of wonder and excitement, and as we were sitting there, somehow, our hands got closer and closer to each other until our fingers were around each other."


    "And when you turned your head towards me, I could see your eyes filled with anxiety and hope and possibility and just everything in between," she said. "It was that moment where your hand was holding mine and your eyes were looking into mine that I knew that there was just something deeper between us."


    "And every moment after that, you''ve just deepened that connection. All the birthday parties, staying up late to study, the cheesy jokes and puns that you''ve shared with me," she said. "All of those just helped build up our love for each other. But that one moment, where everything felt possible. That moment is one that I''ll always remember."


    "So for my vows," she said. "I''ll be there to support you whenever you need me. I''ll be here to inspire you to live your life better. And when the world gets better and the sun starts shining, we''ll come back together because I''ll always love you."


    Mom then turned to Leon. "Do you take my daughter, Mira, as your wife?"


    "I do," Leon said, the beginnings of tears glistening in his eyes.


    Mom then looked at Mira. "Do you take Leon to be your husband?"


    Mira took a deep breath, and I could see her push down her anxieties, before beaming. "I do."


    "And now," Mom said and looked at her paper. "It''s time for the ring exchange."


    Leon pulled out a ring from his pocket while Mom handed Mira a ring. Those were Mom and Dad''s wedding rings. Leon gave Mom''s ring to Mira, sliding it onto her ring finger, and then Mira did the same to Leon. They were both smiling.


    "And now," Mom said. "I proclaim you husband and wife. And now, you may kiss."


    Mira and Leon leaned in towards each other, and if this were a movie, you could hear the swelling of music, as they kissed each other. When they pulled apart, May shouted from the audience stand, "It''s time to eat!"


    Leon laughed even though Mira was less than amused at first, but the sound of Leon''s laugh teased a smile out of her. Mom brought out the polaroid camera to take pictures of Mira and Leon while the rest of us filed into the dining room to grab food.

 Chapter 12, Part 3

    The dining table was crammed with all the delicious foods that Grandma and Grandpa had made. There were scallion pancakes, steamed and pan-fried pork or shrimp dumplings that they made using canned spam and shrimp, egg noodles from the dried egg yolk and ramen packages in the pantry, and fried rice with canned mixed vegetables. There were also smaller dishes around, like spicy pickled cucumbers, glass noodles and carrots, and red bean buns along with some others that I can''t remember.


    "That''s a lot of food," Charles said.


    "Yeah," I said. "But you know my family and weddings. There''s plenty of food here, so go wild."


    Mom then burst into the dining room. "Before everyone eats, I want to take one big family photo with Leon and Mira, so everyone has to go back out now."


    "Seriously, Mom?" May said. "I just started eating."


    "It''ll only be a couple minutes."


    "Totally," May said and rolled her eyes. "You guys always take an hour to take these photos."


    "Hurry up," Mom said. "You''re now wasting everyone''s time."


    "Fine," she said. "Just make it quick."


    "It''ll be quick if you stop dragging your feet," Mom replied. "Let''s go."


    So we all shuffled together to the living room. Mom lined Grandpa, Dad, and I into the back of the photo because we were the tallest in the family. May stood next to Mira, plastering a fake smile on her face while Grandma was next to Leon.


    "Is there a way we can make this take a photo with a timer?" Mom asked.


    "It''s a polaroid, Mom," May said. "What do you think?"


    "I don''t know how these things work," she said.


    "Weren''t you born in the seventies? This is your generation''s technology."


    "So can you do a timer or not?"


    "Of course not," May said. "Someone is going to have to take a picture manually."


    "I''ll take it," Charles said. "You guys are a family, anyways."


    "Thank you," Mom said. "You know how to take a photo, right?"


    "Yeah. Just press this button over here," he said and pointed to the photo button with his finger. "And it takes a photo."


    "Also, make sure to take two photos," Mom said.


    "Will do," Charles said.


    "Okay everyone, gather around," Mom said.


    So we all gathered around Mira and Leon, curling around the both of them like a crescent bay around the ocean. Once we had all shuffled into place, Mom gave Charles a thumbs up to tell him to shoot the photo, and he began a countdown. "Three. Two. One."


    And then the photo snapped, and a small piece of film slid out of the camera.


    "Second photo," he said. "Ready guys? Three. Two. One."


    And at the last second, just before the camera flashed, Mira led out a huge sneeze, throwing her arm in front of her face. A startled Leon stumbled into Mom while May turned her head towards Mira. Only the back row of us along with Grandma maintained our composure. And all of that was caught on film.


    "Uh, guys?" Charles asked. "Do you want to take another photo?"


    "I don''t think we have any film left," Mom said.


    "That''s alright," Leon said. "I call dibs on the second photo. Mira, you can have the first one."


    "Nope," she said. "I''m taking the second one."


    "You''re not going to burn the second photo, are you?" Leon asked. "Because of the whole sneeze debacle."


    "No," she said. "Probably not. Depends on how bad it is."


    "Are you serious?" he asked. "''Cause I can''t tell if you''re joking or not."


    "I just want your last physical memory to be the best there is," she said. "You know what I mean?"


    "I do," he said. "Which is why you should take the first photo because I want you to remember me as your pretty cool, very perfect¡ª"


    Mira playfully elbowed him, and Leon smiled. "And I want to remember you as my beautiful, strong wife who can make even the most serious occasions feel funny."


    "Why are you so good at this?" Mira asked and smiled.


    "So does that mean I get the second photograph?" he asked.


    "Yes," she said. "As long as it isn''t too bad."


    Charles came up to me, with a plate filled to the brim with food. "They look happy together," he said.


    "Yeah," I said. "They really do."


    He took a fork and picked up a piece of scallion pancake and ate it. "Something wrong?" he asked.


    "They should be together, you know," I said.


    "What do you mean?"


    "Leon and his family are heading south," I replied. "Mira is staying back. My mom and dad wouldn''t allow all of us to go because it was too risky, so she decided to stay."


    "So?" he asked. "I mean she made that decision¡ª"


    "But I think I made her make that decision," I said. "Or maybe all of us. I don''t know. I guess she''s just staying back because she wants to make amends with all of us¡ª"


    "But what do you have to do with all of it," he said.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    There was a bit of silence between us. Mira and Leon were still chatting in the distance while May was grabbing tons of food. Mom and Dad had popped out the last bottle of wine in my house, and they were sipping it and talking with each other.


    "Let''s just say that I messed up bad," I said. "And I guess I feel that she''s staying because we''ve kinda grown apart, and she wants to know me better now. I don''t know if this is the full reason that she''s saying, but I feel so guilty that I''m a part of the reason that she''s staying."


    Charles exhaled loudly. "That sounds complicated," Charles replied. "I wish I knew what to say to you."


    There was another silence between us, and I gazed out of the window, where ash blanketed an old sycamore tree.


    "Sorry about that," I said. "You probably didn''t want to talk to me to hear me talk about myself."


    "No," he said. "It''s good to let it all out."


    "Yeah," I said, but I wasn''t sure. It just feels weird trusting someone, even if that someone has been my best friend since elementary school, with something important to me. It feels dangerous, for some reason, and I wish I could take back that conversation right now.


    "Oh. My. Gosh," I heard May say as she held a photograph.


    "What is it?" I asked and went over to look at the photo.


    It was the second photo. Mira has her face all scrunched up with her hands flying while Leon was practically leaning on Mom with the deer in the headlight face. May and I both started laughing. They did look completely ridiculous.


    Leon walked over to us. "Let me see it," he said and looked down at the photo and then started suppressing his laughter.


    "What are you guys laughing about?" Mira asked as she shuffled forwards in her wedding dress.


    "Nothing," May said. "It''s just an inside joke."


    "It''s the photo, isn''t it?" Mire said. "Let me see."


    "You know, it''s not that bad. We both look pretty funny in the photo," Leon said.


    "Well I''ll be the judge of that," she replied. "Give it to me."


    Leon handed Mira the photograph. "Please don''t burn it."


    Mira started at the photograph, at first with a serious face and then her face loosened up and a smile emerged.


    "You sure you want this photo?" she asked.


    "Of course," Leon replied. "What better way to remember our wedding during these dark times than a moment of humor."


    "Where do you come up with these?" Mira asked as she handed him the photograph.


    "I probably plagiarized this from some movie," he said and laughed. "Thanks for giving it back."


    "Well, marriage is all about sacrifice," she replied. "I''m sacrificing a little bit of my dignity for your joy."


    "That sounds pretty toxic," he replied. "Is there anything I can do for you to make it up?"


    "How about grabbing me some of Grandma''s red bean buns for a start," she said.


    "Anything for you," he said and went over to the food table.


    We spent the rest of the afternoon eating and talking and having fun. Charles and I talked a bit, but most of the time, we were just stuffing food into our mouths. It wasn''t until today, when food was just abundant, that I realized how hungry I was on the two can diet. It''s like all the hunger that I suppressed with the two cans just roared back to life. I probably ate more food this afternoon than I had eaten all day before all of this happened.


    "You should probably calm yourself down with all the food eating," I said, but Charles ignored me and grabbed some dumplings.


    "You know what I forgot about?" Charles asked while stuffing himself with dumplings. "The bucket-list."


    Some of the color had returned to his face, and he looked a lot livelier.


    "Yeah," I replied. "I guess with the whole situation at home, I haven''t really thought about it that much."


    "Any ideas?"


    "Well," I said. "It''s kinda unrealistic, given the whole apocalypse situation, but I wish I could, I don''t know, travel somewhere."


    "What do you mean somewhere?"


    "Like Hawaii or something," I said. "I don''t know. This feels kinda stupid."


    "No," he said. "I think I have an idea¡ª"


    All of a sudden, he grabbed his stomach. "You alright?" I asked.


    "Yeah," he said. "Just feeling light-headed."


    He was scrunching up his face and taking deep breaths. All of a sudden, he lurched his head forwards.


    "Can you point me to the bathroom?" he asked.


    "It''s down the hall. First room to the right," I said.


    "Thanks," he said and shuffle-ran to the bathroom.


    There was something obviously wrong, but it took me a while to recognize what happened to him. The deep breaths to calm himself down, him grabbing his stomach, him stuffing food in his mouth for a solid hour or two. I knew that he ate too much and was going to throw up.


    I put down my plate of food and went down the hallway and knocked on the bathroom. "You alright?"


    "Uh, yeah," he said. "No, not really. I''m sorry."


    "Can I come in?" I asked.


    "Yeah," he said. "The door''s unlocked."


    I opened the door, and there was a big mess on the floor. Partially digested remains of food dripped onto the floor, and there was this acidic stench in the bathroom. Charles was kneeling in front of the toilet. "Sorry about all of this," he said.


    "It''s fine," I said. "Probably shouldn''t have eaten that much."


    "Yeah," he said and sighed. "Hunger takes over your mind."


    I grabbed a cloth towel and a pair of rubber gloves from underneath the cabinet and wet it before attempting to mop the vomit on the floor.


    "I can help," he said.


    "No," I said and looked at him. There were dribbles of vaguely brown-ish fluid on the tuxedo and tie. "What you need to do is get changed back into your old set of clothes."


    "Just take everything and dump it in the bathtub," I added. "I''ll go get your clothes for you."


    I exited the bathroom and went to my bedroom to get Charles clothes streaked with a bit of ash. When I went back, Charles had already taken off the tuxedo vest and tie and dumped them in the bathtub.


    "Should I go to another room to change?" he asked. "Since you''re busy cleaning up this one."


    "No," I said. "I don''t think my parents would want little vomit bits everywhere. I''ll just wait outside for you."


    "Okay," he said and added. "Sorry about all this."


    I stood in the hallway, still wearing rubber gloves tinted with a light shade of brown. There was a soft chatter in the living room and for a moment, everything felt normal, like the world hadn''t ended and it was just another summer day. But then, my eyes caught sight of the gray skies outside of the window and the cold-ish air inside our house began nipping at my legs, and this illusion that I created just crumbled. Charles exited the bathroom. "I''m going to help you clean up."


    "You sure you''re up to it?" I asked.


    "It''s my mess," he said. "And you''ve done a bunch for me, and I feel pretty guilty for just standing here and watching you do all the work."


    "Alright," I said. "If you insist so."


    "Don''t want to leave you alone cleaning up this," he said. "It''s what friends are for."


    So we wiped the floor down, wrung out wet towels, re-wet them and continued to try to clean up. I turned on the bathtub to soak the clothes with water. There was something, I don''t really know how to describe this, but something special about this. Crammed together, cleaning up vomit with my best friend. It felt so ordinary and yet so unordinary.


    "You still want to stay?" I asked.


    "I think it''s probably better if I leave," he said. "All this food is making me crazy."


    "Okay," I said, and we walked to the kitchen. Everyone was in the living room and sitting and talking and no one was really inside the kitchen. I took out some aluminum foil and a plastic bag and we both packed him some scallion pancakes, some dumplings that were beginning to get cold, and a couple of other smaller foods.


    When we walked out of the kitchen, Mom was standing in the hallway, talking with Mira. Mom turned towards us. "Charles, are you leaving so soon?"


    "He''s got curfew," I lied. "You know what these times are like."


    Charles gave me a weird look before turning to Mom.


    "Thank you for everything," he said to Mom and then turned to Mira. "Congratulations on your wedding."


    "Thank you," she said, but I could feel an undercurrent of sadness behind her smile. It looks like Leon is really going to be gone tomorrow.


    "Well, I should probably get going," he said. "You know, curfew and all."


    "Goodbye," Mom and Mira said before walking back to the dining room.


    Charles put on a worn sneaker. "So, you want to tell me about what the whole lying about me having a curfew thing is about?"


    "If I said you threw up in the bathroom, my mom would probably think that the food had gone bad or something," I replied. "It''d lead to way too much chaos. It''s better this way."


    "Okay," he said but looked very skeptical.


    "So, what were you saying about the idea for my bucket list?"


    "Oh, yeah," he said. "Meet me at the library on Tuesday,"


    "The library?" I asked. "What does that have anything to do with my traveling dream?"


    "You''ll see," he said and opened the door. The ash flurries had calmed down, but the whole street was caked with this cool, gray snow.


    "You need me to walk you back or something?" I asked.


    "Nah," he said. "You''ve already done too much for me."


    He turned and walked down the porch, carrying a bag filled with food for his parents. A small gust blew ash into the air as he seemed to disappear into the distance, fading away into the greyness as the sun began to set and the sky became darker.

 Chapter 12, Part 4

    I turned and went back inside, where everyone was sitting and talking. Dad was talking with Leon. "I''m sorry for being such an idiot," Dad said to Leon. "And the way that I treated you."


    That was the second apology Dad gave in two days to someone in our family. I think that''s a new record for any of us.


    "Don''t worry about it," Leon said. "It''s what you guys do. Worrying about your kids."


    "And you''re sure that you can''t stay?"


    "I wish I could," he said. "But I''ve got people to take care of too."


    There was an awkward sigh. Dad sipped a bit of wine and put the glass down on the counter.


    "Well, when all of this ends, you better pay your father-in-law a visit," Dad said.


    "I''ll bring the whole family over," he said. "You know, go big or go home."


    "That''s a great idea," Dad said and smiled.


    "I think you and my dad would make great friends," Leon added.


    They continued to talk as I made my way over to the other side of the living room. Mom had turned on a lamp and lit a couple of candles for this occasion and the room was bathed with a blend of warm amber light and the harsh fluorescent light of the lamp. "


    Hey, Neal," someone said and tapped my shoulder. I turned back to see May.


    "What?" I asked.


    "What happened in the bathroom?"


    "Charles spilled food on his shirt," I said.


    "So you dumped his, no wait, our clothes in the bathtub?"


    "It was the noodles," I said. "It practically instantly stained the shirt. I just dumped everything in the tub and soaked them in water so that the stain wouldn''t be permanent."


    "Well, the bathroom smells a bit weird," she said.


    "Is that the only thing that you came to me to talk about?"


    "We''re moving out all our pillows and blankets to the couch."


    "Isn''t Leon sleeping on the couch?" I asked.


    "Well, obviously," she said. "So if we''re taking his place on the couch, that means that he''s taking our place¡ª"


    "In the bedroom," I said.


    "Yep," May said. "It''s probably the last time that they''re ever going to see each other unless some miracle happens, and they''re a newly married couple, so you know, we should give them a night together that''s a little rough and rowdy, if you know¡ª"


    "I know what you mean," I said. "No need to continue describing it."


    "Well, grab the pillows," she said. "And no stealing my fluffy pillows. I''m watching you."


    So we grabbed out pillows and comforters and moved it to the couches while moving Leon''s items into our bedroom. Mom and Dad were too busy talking to each other to notice, and I think Leon and Mira were in the kitchen. At that moment, the sky had fully darkened and the air inside our house was chilly, and today felt like the first day of winter.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The rest of the evening felt like a blur. Mira and Leon had their first dance, though admittedly it was awkward because there was no music. But you could feel the intimacy, both of them leaning against each other, knowing that this could possibly be their last embrace, gently swaying as the candles flickered. And you could feel Mom and Dad''s gaze, watching their daughter grow up right in front of them, and the rush of emotions going through their mind, like an erupting geyser.


    Everything felt so poetic. The flickering candle lights, the aroma of dinner wafting through the air, the flecks of ash drifting outside the window, the hearty laughing echoing in the rooms, the smiles of everyone who was drunk on food and our last vestiges of normal life. The thoughts about what''s going to come after today faded in everybody''s minds. At that moment, all we were doing was just enjoying the present.


    Just before everyone went to sleep, we all gathered together, sitting on the couch. Mom and Dad were finishing up the last of the wine, and Mira and Leon were talking with each other.


    "Our first dance was so awkward without music," Mira said.


    "Awkward and perfect," Leon said. "We can redo it once everything gets better."


    "No," she said. "I liked it. I loved it."


    May elbowed me in the ribs. I said, "What?"


    She eyeballed towards Mira and Leon. "This is so sappy."


    "Well, love is weird," I said.


    "At least this is something we can agree upon," she muttered. "What do you think is going to happen tomorrow?"


    "That''s tomorrow''s problem," I said.


    Before May could respond, Leon stood up. "I just want to thank you guys for everything. Despite the ups and downs, these two weeks have been the best of my life."


    His voice started to crack. "And I just want to thank you all for making that happen."


    Dad leaned forwards. "My wife and I have something to give to you."


    Mom handed Leon a wrapped gift.


    "It''s a music box," Dad said. "The one I gave to her when we got married."


    "This¡ª This seems pretty important for you guys," Leon said. "I''m not sure if I could take it."


    "We haven''t touched that thing in years," Mom said and laughed. "It''ll be better with you."


    "Are you sure?"


    "Yes," Mom said.


    Leon held the wrapped music box in his hands and then put it to the side. "Thank you. Is there anything I can¡ª"


    "You''ve already done enough," Mom said. "The food that you gave us will help us get through."


    Leon put his hands on his face and seemed shaken up. Mom then stood up and picked up the glasses of wine and dumped them into the sink.


    "Maybe it''s time for us to head to bed now," she said. "Mira, come with me. Let''s make sure the dress doesn''t get torn. Everyone else, get ready to sleep."


    Mira turned to Leon and whispered something into his ear, and he nodded back, and Mira stood up and walked with Mom, looking back at Leon. May and Dad went up to the bathroom to begin brushing, leaving me and Leon as the last two people in the living room. There was an awkward silence between us.


    "Sorry for being such a mess," he said and ran his hands through his hair.


    "I''m guessing that you''re leaving for good," I said.


    He sighed, and there was another silence. "Do you think the world is ever going to get better?"


    "I''d like to think that it would," I said. "But the way everything is going, I don''t know."


    "It has to get better, you know," he said. "It just has to."


    "Have you ever tried writing for Mira?" I asked. "Just so that she''d have something to remember you by in case it takes a long time for the world to get better."


    "Mira and I talked about it. She''s got one written down, but I don''t know what to say," he said. "It''s like nothing I''ll write will be perfect enough for her."


    "Mira thought about this the same way," I replied. "Not for this thing, but for the wedding. She was so nervous this morning because she just wanted everything to be perfect. It''s why she was so annoyed by the photo. Everything was going along perfectly until that imperfect photo, but in the end, Mira found some joy in that imperfection, and everything worked out as best as it could."


    "So, just pick up a pen and write," I said. "It doesn''t have to be perfect. It just has to be honest. Here let me get you a pen and paper."


    I stood up and pulled a sheet on binder paper out, along with a black pen, and placed it in front of Leon. "Just write whatever comes into your mind," I said. "I have to go brush, so I''ll leave you here and give you some privacy."


    He picked up the pen and looked at me. "Thank you," he said.


    "No problem," I said. "And also, you''re, uh, kinda not sleeping on the couch today, and May and I moved your stuff to Mira''s room, so yeah, you''ll be sleeping over there."


    I could see him blushing in the lamplight, so I quickly walked away to the bathroom because the conversation was getting too awkward. When May finished brushing and announced that she was sleeping, he picked up the lantern and went into Mira''s bedroom to continue to write.


    Personally, I couldn''t sleep tonight, so I stayed up, writing in this journal under a lamplight, as May softly snored on the couch. Even though the world around us is collapsing, today felt perfect. Someday, I''ll probably look back at this day differently, maybe more negatively or bitterly even.


    But for now, I wish that today would never end.

 Chapter 13, Part 1

    August 6


    Leon left this morning.


    We all stood in front of the front door as Leon put on his shoes and turned towards us. "Thank you for all this."


    "And you''re sure you can''t stay?" Mom asked.


    "I¡ª I''m sorry. I just can''t," he said, and his voice began to crack. "I have to go. I''m so sorry."


    "Don''t be," Mom said. "Sometimes, there are things that are just beyond our control. There''s no need to apologize for them."


    "I know, but it''s just that I wish things were different."


    "Don''t we all," Mom said and sighed. "C''mon, give me a hug."


    Leon and Mom embraced each other.


    "Safe journeys," she said. "I hope everything''s great in New Mexico."


    "I''m coming back," he said. "Sometime soon."


    But when they released themselves from their hug, I could tell by the expression on Mom''s face that she thinks Leon might not return. Even if the government finds a way to make everything alright again, fixing up the roads and infrastructure connecting states will take years to do. And who knows what might happen during Leon''s journey or what kinds of hardships they''ll face.


    "C''mon, give me a hug," Dad said and they hugged each other. "If you ever cheat on Mira, I''ll kill you."


    "No, sir, I won''t," he said and blanched a bit white. But when he saw Dad''s small smile, a tiny smile appeared on Leon''s face.


    Leon gave me a hug. Normally, I hate hugs, but this one felt different. Warmer, sadder, more final, like it was really the end.


    "Stay safe," I said.


    And when Leon hugged May, her last words to him were, "Don''t die."


    "Of course," he said with a chuckle.


    Leon then hugged Grandma and Grandpa, thanking them for the wedding meals. Grandpa said a couple of things in Chinese, which Mom translated for Leon.


    "It means farewell," Mom said.


    The last person he talked to was Mira. They looked at each other, gazing into each other''s eyes. Mira''s face was flushed red, not the embarrassed red, but the red of tear-soaked cheeks of early morning crying. Leon gently touched her palm. "Please, please come with me."


    "We talked about this," she said, and her voice cracked with sorrow. "I just can''t."


    Leon kneeled down in front of her, holding her palms. "Please change your mind. I''m begging you. Please."


    "I''m sorry," she said, and tears began spilling out. "I''m so sorry."


    "We should give them some privacy," Mom said. "Let''s go."


    So all of us moved into different corners of our house. Mom and Dad went to the garage to get the greenhouse thing working, May went to her bedroom, Grandma and Grandpa went to their room, and I sat in the living room, watching the grey skies through the windows.


    I could imagine Mira and Leon''s conversation. Leon, kneeling down, pleading, begging, promising everything in the world if she came with him because despite his outward optimism, even he knew that this was probably going to be the last time they ever talked to each other. Mira, holding his hands and making a sacrifice so great that I can''t imagine how hard it is on her, pleading Leon to stop talking and breaking her heart, all because of a stupid lie that I told her and some pointless arguments with Mom and Dad.


    And then, I could see Leon''s heart breaking in his eyes as his last-ditch efforts to convince Mira to leave were ignored. I could see Mira trying to stay strong even though there''s a part of her that just wants to leave. I could see them embracing for one last time¡ª possibly the last time they''ll ever do so¡ª and I could see Leon reach into his bag and pull out a letter filled with all the things he wanted to say to her.


    I heard some soft sniffling and the gentle closing of the door. I went over to the front door and saw Mira staring out of the window, watching Leon''s car disappear into the ash, fading into the dust, like everything around us. Love, life, family all just crumbling to ashes.


    And when Mira pressed her hand on the window and began crying silently as love slipped away from her fingers, I suddenly felt angry. We''ve all been so selfish. Mom and Dad just not getting over the fact that Mira is an adult. May for being so cruel to her in the beginning. Me for that lie that made her feel like she had to stay to get to know me better. We were all so self-centered and so mean that we made her want to stay here instead of finding a better future.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    And with nothing better to do today other than gathering the meager amount of food from the food drive, which happened without incident, I began re-reading my old diary entries, and I just wanted to rip them to shreds.


    How could I be so ambivalent about everything that is happening? It''s like I was so afraid of college and of getting a job and everything that comes after it that I''d rather have the world end than leave my childhood behind. I feel almost guilty that while I was kinda-celebrating the apocalypse while Mira was just struggling with the Mooncrash and losing the people she loves.


    I know that getting angry doesn''t help anybody and it''s just pointless, but I just can''t help feeling this way.


    August 7


    Mira was awfully chipper today.


    May and I were both completely confused about Mira''s behavior. Mom was feeling a mixture of happiness and anxiety at Mira''s willingness to fold the laundry and wash the dishes and do all the housework that we all reluctantly did.


    "Did an alien come in and snatch Mira''s body?" May asked.


    "Maybe," I said. "She''s been acting super weird all morning."


    "We should ask Mira a question that only the real Mira would know," May replied. "Like what her favorite animal is."


    "Wouldn''t the alien-her already know that," I said. "Since it''s controlling her mind."


    "Well, have you got a better suggestion?"


    "I don''t know," I said. "Maybe it''s a coping mechanism or something for Leon being gone. Some people like to throw themselves at work when they''re grieving."


    "Well, that''s a really weird way to grieve," she replied. "But I''m perfectly cool with it since I don''t have to do the dishes."


    I nodded along with her. People do grieve in weird ways. I remember reading an article a long time ago about people who laugh during funerals instead of crying. But something was just off with Mira. I went over to her as she was scrubbing an old t-shirt.


    "You need help with that?" I asked. "You''ve been working all morning."


    She looked at me, her red hair tied into a messy bun. I noticed that the color was fading, just like everything around me. "No, it''s all good," she said. "It''s been very meditative, you know. Maybe that''s why some people de-stress while washing things."


    There was an awkward silence between us.


    "Is¡ª" I said but hesitated before continuing. "Is everything alright?"


    There was a small break in her smile, just enough that I could see the sadness in her mind. "Everything''s good. Well, everything except for the weird glances May has been giving me all morning."


    "Well," I said. "You''ve been acting, I don''t know, super weird and stuff."


    "Don''t need to worry about me," she said. "I''m fine."


    I was going to follow up with a question about how she''s been dealing with Leon''s departure, but then, I stopped myself. I''ve already caused enough pain for her. There''s no need to tear open old wounds and make her relive these memories. Maybe it''s better that she''s cheerful and happy. The anger that I felt yesterday has subsided because I''m bad at staying angry, but the guilt is still there, lingering like dust in a room.


    We moved back to the two can diet yesterday, and my stomach is still rumbling. We were spoiled by Leon''s two-week trip here, and now, moving back to less food has just been hard. I can''t even think about the wedding without feeling a twinge of hunger. Yesterday, each person only got 5 cans of food for the week, and while we can afford two cans a day because of our food stores, for Charles and his family, they won''t even have one can a day. I hope he and his family are doing alright.


    The only surprise of today was a question Mom asked me around dinnertime. "Do you know when school is starting again?"


    I didn''t know what to say for a few seconds. School felt so long ago, like a distant memory that''s been dusted by the volcanic ash around all of us.


    "I don''t know," I said. "There hasn''t been any mail or anything about it."


    "The mayor said something about schools reopening," Mom replied.


    "He''s said a lot of things that haven''t come true," I said. "Like power returning. Anyways, that was so long ago, and a lot has changed since then."


    There was a bit of quiet between us.


    "But if school returns¡ª" I said before Mom cut me off.


    "You''ll still have to study for your classes," she said. "With everything being the way that it is, we all have a lot of time on our hands, so we might as well get something done instead of staring at the walls or the skies."


    "I was going to ask if we had to actually go to school," I said. "Like being physically present."


    Mom sighed. "Maybe, if it''s safe, and they''ve got good air filters and power."


    "Wouldn''t it be better just to stay at home since going to school without cars means that we''ll breathe a lot of ash."


    "I haven''t even thought about that," Mom said. "I just want to give you guys a sense of normalcy because everything that''s happening now is far from normal."


    "So is that a yes to home-schooling?" I replied.


    "I don''t know," she said. "But if you''re staying home and doing school that means you need to have some schedule¡ª"


    "Why are we talking about school?" May asked as she burst into the kitchen. "The world is literally not going to get better."


    "Weren''t you the one saying that the world was going to get better?" I asked rhetorically.


    "I changed my mind," she replied. "People are allowed to do that, Neal, even if you like to stay the same."


    "Whatever," I said.


    "Anyways," Mom said, butting in. "You guys are still going to have to pursue academics even is school is out¡ª"


    "But¡ª"


    "No buts," Mom said. "Both of you are going to pick a subject or two to study, and if you''re staying home, I''m going to make a work schedule, so that everyone contributes to the housework."


    "That''s literally not fair," May said. "Not only do we have to deal with school, even though the world is ending¡ª"


    "Don''t say that."


    "Well it''s true," May replied. "But on top of that we have to deal with doing housework. Who knew that the apocalypse would suck so much?"


    "I''m pretty sure that everyone knew that," I said.


    "Whatever," she said and turned to Mom. "So what do you want us to do today, dictator?"


    "I don''t know, yet," Mom said. "That''s why it''s still a work in progress."


    "Well, then, I''m going to go now and stare at the sky because there''s just nothing to do during the apocalypse."


    May stormed away into her room. Mom looked at me weirdly. "What''s up with her?" Mom asked.


    I shrugged my shoulders. "I don''t know."


    Mom sighed and went to the garage. I haven''t gone there in a while, but I hope they''ve made a bunch of progress. Today was pretty cold, somewhere around high forties in the middle of the afternoon, and we all were bundled up in sweaters, thick pants, and ski socks. There was no ashfall today and the sky was clearer than usual, but the sun was still hidden under the gray.


    Maybe some miracle will happen, and the sun will come out tomorrow. Hopefully this happens. Everyone just needs a little bit more hope.

 Chapter 13, Part 2

    August 8


    The sky became darker today. It''s like the universe read my diary and decided to just make ash clouds denser just to mess with me.


    Everyone except for Grandma and Grandpa went stick gathering today. We grabbed a small wagon from the garage, Dad''s hatchet, and a couple of plastic bags and walked to the woods. Everything was eerily silent in the woods. All the leaves shed by the trees laid on the ground, dull and weighed down by the ash, leaving the branches bare, looking like skeleton bones.


    I went through the woods, gathering dried up sticks and small branches and other kindling. How many months until the natural gas runs out and the water pumps and filtration plants shut down? It must be happening soon because if the government is running out of food, then they''re probably running out of resources to keep those places powered.


    I filled my bag up with sticks and walked to our meeting place, a stump by a tree with a USA banner hanging from it for some odd reason. May had already finished gathering the sticks, and I could tell from the look of her face that she was very annoyed by the way that Dad was cutting the tree.


    "What he''s doing is so inefficient," she said. "He could literally go anywhere and get a better axe, but instead, he''s using that basically useless one. It''s literally wasting everyone''s time, like, why does he have to be so inefficient?"


    It''s actually quite funny when May rants about inefficiency. For all the time-wasting that she does daily, it''s almost a bit ironic that she finds it annoying that other people are wasting time.


    "Well, there''s nowhere to buy axes," I said. "It''s not like the Home Depot is open or anything."


    "No, duh," she said. "But the Hunters will probably have a good axe, maybe even a chainsaw or something since they go camping a lot."


    "Dad doesn''t want us to take stuff from other people though," I said.


    "Well that''s a stupid rule," May said. "We''re in the apocalypse. Who cares about taking other people''s stuff? And anyways, they told us to take it. It''s been a bit less than a month since they''ve left, and they haven''t come back."


    "Well, if you have a problem, go ask Dad about it."


    "Well, it''s not like he''ll listen anyways," May muttered. "We all should''ve gone with Leon. At least there, I might see some of my friends."


    "What is that supposed to mean?"


    "Practically all of my friends left in the first few weeks¡ª"


    "But what about Clara?" I asked.


    "That birthday party was her farewell party," May replied. "And my two other friends that came said that their families were leaving in less than a month."


    "And you never told any of us because..."


    "It''s none of your business," she said. "So, yeah. Now you and Mira are practically the only people my age that I can talk to, and Mira is a stretch since she''s like ten years older than me."


    "She''s not a decade older than you."


    "Seems like it, and who cares anyways?" she replied.


    Just after she said that, I heard Dad coughing. He was leaning forwards and coughing deeply into the mask. Mira and Mom came running from the woods as May and I went towards Dad, leaving our bags of sticks behind at the stump.


    "What happened?" Mira asked.


    "I''m fine," Dad said. "It was just a mild cough."


    "That wasn''t mild," Mom said. "Did you take off your mask?"


    "No, no, I didn''t," Dad said, but Mom gave him a hard look.


    "It was only for a couple of minutes," Dad said. "I had trouble breathing and needed to take in a breath of fresh air."


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "We''re heading back," Mom said. "We''ve been outside too long anyways."


    "No," Dad said. "I''m finishing chopping down this tree."


    Dad took the axe and swung at the trunk of the tree.


    "Avi," Mom said, and I knew things were getting serious since she sparingly uses Dad''s first name. "We are leaving right now."


    "I need to gather the wood," Dad said and looked at Mom. "We''re going to need it to stay warm for the long winter ahead."


    "We''ve already gathered enough wood," Mom replied. "And we can gather more later on next week¡ª"


    "We can''t wait," Dad said, cutting off Mom. "It''s getting colder and colder every single day. It''s nearly noon right now, and it feels colder than most winter nights."


    "So, what?" Mom asked. "You''re going to just stand there and chop down the tree, your lungs filling with ash because you''re taking off your mask to breathe."


    "Yes," Dad replied defiantly.


    "There''s no point preparing for a future if you''re going to be dead by the time it arrives."


    "Well, at least you guys will stay alive," Dad said, his voice raised.


    "Stop," Mom said. "I don''t want you to even think that any of us are going to die."


    "It doesn''t matter what we think," Dad said. "I think that everything''s going to get better, but it''s not happening. We need to prepare for the worst, and if we don''t gather enough wood right now when the weather is still bearable, then we''ll all freeze to death in winter."


    "Gathering one extra log will not prevent us from freezing," Mom replied. "It''ll only give us a couple of extra hours of warmth¡ª"


    "Every hour matters," Dad said.


    "That''s not my point," Mom said. "Sacrificing yourself to get one extra log is pointless. We need everyone to be healthy and strong for the times ahead. Flu season is coming up soon, and no one here knows if the hospital is even open, so if you damage your lungs and get sick, you might die."


    "So go put your hatchet in the wagon, and let''s go," Mom said.


    Dad gripped the hatchet tightly and nearly went to keep chopping down the tree, but I could see the gears shifting in his mind. Mom was right. Sacrificing yourself pointlessly won''t help anyone and will only make things worse. He sighed and dropped the hatchet in the wagon. "I''ll finish cutting down the tree next week."


    "You won''t be doing it by yourself," Mom replied. "Next week, you and I are going to be doing alternating shifts."


    "But¡ª"


    "No, buts," Mom said. "It''s happening."


    Dad shook his head and sighed. When Mom wants something, she''ll always get it. There''s virtually no talking her out of something once she''s put her mind to it. We pulled the wagon behind us, creaking softly as the chilly ocean breeze brushed our faces.


    Once we got home, May jumped into the shower, and then I went after her. The shower is about the only place in the house where it''s actually warm, thanks to the fact that our house has an old-fashioned water heating system reliant on natural gas with no electrical components. I can''t even imagine how people with electrical water heaters are showering.


    When I got out of the shower, I went to my room to call Mira to shower after me. I saw her looking down at something on the desk. I knocked on the wall. "It''s your turn to shower."


    She quickly dropped some small pieces of paper before turning around and plastering a smile on her face. "Give me two or three minutes."


    "What¡ª" I said before pausing for a second. "What were you looking at?"


    She sighed. "Just some old photos."


    I went over and peered at the photos on the desk. Mira and Leon were smiling into the camera, dressed in traditional Indian clothes. "I don''t remember this," I said. "When was it taken?"


    "Early in the morning," Mira replied. "You guys were probably asleep."


    There was silence in the room. Mira had a small smile on, her thumb placed just under Leon''s grinning face in the photo. "You miss him?" I asked.


    "I do," she replied. "I really do."


    Another awkward silence graced the room. "I''m sorry," I blurted out, breaking the silence.


    I have no idea what went through my brain at that moment, but that just came out. Mira looked at me quizzically. "Sorry for what?"


    I could''ve said something about being sorry for her loss or something along the lines of that, but I chose to say what was on my mind. It would be better that way.


    "For lying to you about Leon in June and being part of the reason that you stayed and didn''t go off with Leon or¡ª"


    "It''s not your fault," she replied, cutting me off. "Don''t blame yourself."


    "But it is," I said. "And I guess I feel so guilty about it, you know, because I feel like I''m the reason that you''re not happy and living your best life and¡ª"


    "I chose to stay because I wanted to stay," she said. "And it was the hardest choice I''ve made in my life because it meant that I had to lose my husband."


    "And even if you never told that lie, if whatever you think made me stay here never happened. I''d always chosen to stay because it''s right," she said.


    I wanted to believe her, but there was something familiar about how she said her last part, where part of it felt like a bit of the truth and part of it felt like a lie, something that I do a lot when I''m too afraid to tell the truth. But it felt nice, you know, being absolved of any guilt, even if part of it didn''t feel real.


    "Anyways," Mira said. "I better go shower since the water''s getting cold."


    "Yep, go ahead," I said.


    Nothing much happened after that. Dinner was just awkward. Mom and Dad weren''t really looking at each other. Mira, May, and I were just sitting there in silence and eating mushy corn. The only people that were talking were Grandma and Grandpa, who were talking in Taiwanese, which only Mom knew how to speak, so the rest of us just sat there as they chatted away.


    Tomorrow, Charles and I are meeting for my bucket list. I''m not completely sure why we''re meeting in the library, but hopefully, it''ll make sense soon enough. I hope he and his family are doing better now.

 Chapter 13, Part 3

    August 9


    I woke up this morning and realized that Charles never told me what time we were meeting. I assumed that it was sometime around when we usually met, which was around two or three in the afternoon. But because of this, I had to ask Mom for an extension, and that''s when things started to go downhill.


    "Mom," I said. "I might be gone for a bit longer than the permitted hour today."


    "And why is that?" she asked while sweeping the floor.


    "Charles and I were supposed to be meeting at the library today," I said. "But I''m not exactly sure when we''re meeting, so I might have to be out for over an hour."


    "Okay," Mom said and put the broom to the side. "So how''s the gardening going?"


    My heart began to beat faster as I tried formulating a lie. "It''s doing well. The fruit-vegetable plants, like the tomatoes and eggplants, have mostly died, but the root vegetables are doing fine."


    The whole garden was dead, but if I told Mom that, she might bar me from ever leaving the house. "Do you think we''re going to have a harvest soon?"


    "Maybe," I said and shrugged my shoulders. "I don''t know."


    Mom picked up the broom and began sweeping the dust into a corner. "After what happened to your father yesterday, I think we might need to stop going out so much."


    "What is that supposed to mean?"


    "Maybe limit your meetings with Charles to one time a week," Mom said. "All that ash in the air isn''t great for your lungs, even with the masks on."


    "But¡ª"


    "He''ll understand," Mom replied before I could say anything.


    "What about the garden and¡ª"


    "You said it yourself that the garden is dead," Mom said. "Even though I''m not a great gardener, everyone can tell that there''s nothing that''ll really grow in these conditions."


    I knew that I had already lost this battle. "So what?"


    "You both can see each other once a week," Mom said. "Indoors only, though. Nothing farther than the library. No intense exercise or work."


    "That''s a lot of restrictions."


    "I want you to be safe, that''s all," Mom said.


    "And it''s starting this week?"


    "Yes," Mom said.


    I nodded and walked away to put on some clothes and a backpack since if I were going to the library, I might as well get some books. I tightly fastened a mask around my face and walked outside, heading towards the library.


    The sky was gray like usual, ashes caking the cracked asphalt streets and roofs of the nearby houses. The wind had died down from the previous few days, though the smell of salt lingered in the air. The empty houses, long abandoned by everyone who lived here, stood proud, like monuments of a past long gone.


    It was strange to think about what life would be like if the apocalypse didn''t happen. Today, I''d most likely be walking, or possibly driving if I took the driver''s test, to school to take photos for my junior year. The sun would be shining through cloudless skies, surrounded by a faded cerulean sky. We would all be complaining about the heat and eating popsicles to cool ourselves off and maybe even going down to the beach to bathe in the amber sunshine as the sun descended behind the horizon.


    But now, school may never reopen and there''s no gasoline to power any of the cars. The sun is shrouded in gray all the time, the blue sky disappearing into the ashes, as the day struggles to hit the high forties. The beaches are deadly, the tsunami tides washing away the seaside manors, sinking and pounding them every day until nothing will remain. And with all the ash in the air clinging to our dreams and hopes, it''s hard to imagine a different future if the asteroid had never struck.


    When I got to the library, there was virtually no one there. Just one lonely volunteer sitting in the desk position, reading a book under a lamplight. When I entered, they looked at me and nodded before going back to their book. I guess with the world ending, reading up all the good literature is not a bad idea.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    I waited for what felt like twenty minutes before I decided to go up to the library volunteer, but then stopped myself because it would be kinda weird to ask if someone had seen another person walk into the library earlier. So I just sat on the bench and waited.


    After about ten minutes, Charles walked through the door. "Took you long enough," I said.


    "It''s a long walk to the library," he replied.


    He stood in front of me. He looked better, his face less sallow, his walk with a little more energy, his eyes glinting with a bit more life.


    "Your family doing alright?" I asked.


    "Yeah," he said. "A lot better. Thanks."


    "Anytime," I said. "So what''s with the whole meeting in the library thing?"


    "I thought it was obvious," he said. "We should probably get a flashlight and get going."


    We went up to the library volunteer and asked for a flashlight. "Don''t steal any batteries," he said and looked at us seriously.


    "Of course not," Charles said.


    "Have fun then," the volunteer said and leaned back in his chair, fully engrossed in his book. There didn''t seem to be anyone else in the library and we disappeared into the shadows of the building, armed with only a flashlight.


    Pale light streamed through the library windows, illuminating the dust that''s floating in the air. I turned to Charles. "We''re not just looking at books about Hawaii, right?"


    "Maybe," he said. "Maybe not. You''ll see."


    We turned a corner, heading into the geography section, tall shelves lined with books that no one will ever check out again. "We''re definitely looking at books about Hawaii," I said.


    "Well, like pretty much every bookworm would say, books can transport you to different places," he said. "Obviously we can''t go to Hawaii, so it''s the best I''ve got."


    "Well, you could''ve been a bit more creative," I said. "Just saying."


    "My first idea was for us to pretend we were in Hawaii, you know. Dress up in Hawaiian shirts, crank up a heater somewhere, dress in flip-flops and pretend we were doing the Hawaiian dance," he replied. "But everyone would think we''re crazy. Hell, I''d think I was crazy if I saw myself doing that."


    "Yeah, it was probably better if we didn''t go with your original idea," I said.


    He nodded and pointed the flashlight at the shelves. "Found it."


    I grabbed the book from the shelf and pointed my flashlight at it. Ten Hidden Gems of the Hawaiian Islands. I flipped the page open, seeing photos with small captions under them.


    "This doesn''t even count as a book," I said. "I thought it''d be a reading book or something."


    "If it''s got a cover and pages with words on them, then it''s a book."


    "What happened to using my imagination to get transported to another world?"


    "I''m making your life easier with images," he replied. "Anyways, let''s just get started. Since you''ve got a limited amount of time anyways."


    "Actually, I got a couple hours of leeway today."


    "How? Your mom seems pretty determined when she wants something enforced," he replied. "Not to mean that in any offensive way or anything."


    "Yeah, she''s like that," I said. "I''ll tell you about it later."


    I grabbed the book and flipped it open to the first entry, Punalu''u Beach. I remembered going there, or some other nearby beach with black sand, with my family once, during a trip to Hawaii. The black sand looked like pebbles of coal, blanketing the beach like a midnight storm, and there were turtles bathing on the sand, surrounded with caution tape to protect them. "It''s beautiful," Charles said.


    "Yeah," I said. "I think I''ve been here."


    "How was it?" he asked.


    "I honestly don''t remember," I said. "The only things that I remembered were that the beach was just pitch black and there were tons of turtles lying around."


    "What do you think happened to this place? When the tides rose and all."


    "Washed away, probably," I replied. "Though maybe it survived because of the volcanoes. It''s like nothing nice is left anymore."


    "The library is here," he said. "That''s something nice."


    "Fine," I said. "Nothing beachy is left anymore."


    "Well, I mean our beach¡ª"


    "Nothing safe and beachy is left anymore," I replied. "Happy now?"


    He smiled. "But¡ª"


    "Great, we''re moving on," I said and flipped the page.


    "No, wait," he said and grabbed my hand. "I just want to have one last look."


    He gazed at the photos of sunsets on the black sand beach. I wasn''t sure if he was more enamored with the beach or the sun.


    "It must''ve been beautiful when it existed," he said. "Man, I miss what the world used to be."


    "Me too," I said and flipped the page, revealing a secluded waterfall surrounded by a bamboo forest. Light filtered through the canopy of the trees, captured in the photograph dancing on the first floor. There was something so entrancing about that picture, something ethereal and almost alien about it.


    "It''s very green," I said all of a sudden.


    "Wow. That''s so deep," he said sarcastically. "That''s like me saying that the sky is blue."


    "But it isn''t," I said, and there was an awkward pause in between us.


    "How weird will it be when we have kids in the future and when we show them these pictures, they''ll wonder why the sky is blue in them?" he asked.


    "Pretty weird, I guess."


    "Yeah," he said and sighed. "It''s a weird thing to say, but I miss the old sky."


    "Honestly, who doesn''t?" I asked. "No threat of oncoming ashfalls or ash storms. The worst thing that''ll come from it is a little bit of rain."


    "Or snow," he said.


    "It doesn''t snow here."


    "Actually, a couple winters back, it got cold enough to snow in the mountains. It was a pretty big deal."


    "That''s not even relevant," I said.


    "Well, if I move, then it''ll be relevant."


    "You guys are moving?" I asked all of a sudden.


    "No, no," he said. "It was just a hypothetical."


    But there was something about the way he said it that made it feel less like a random hypothetical and more like a consideration, like they were seriously thinking about moving away.

 Chapter 13, Part 4

    "Speaking of moving away," he said. "How did everything go with your sister?"


    "He left," I said. "A couple days ago. Saturday, actually."


    "Is it true what they said about the South?" Charles implored. "About the better oil and gas situation."


    "Maybe. I don''t know. It''s all rumors. Nothing''s been confirmed yet."


    "But what do you think?"


    I sighed. "I hope everything is better. It just has to. If not for me, then for Leon and his family."


    "Yeah," he said and decided to switch topics randomly. "I wish I could grow one of these bamboo groves in my backyard."


    "It would be great," I said and played along with his topic switch. It felt better to talk about something unserious to take our minds off of everything that was happening. "Maybe I might even be able to get a pet panda."


    "That would be pretty cool," he said and flipped the page. It was a picture of a white sand beach curving around turquoise blue waters. The sky was shining blue, the forests saturated with so many bright greens that I almost squinted my eyes because it hurt looking at it.


    "Now, this is where I would want to get married," he said. "Or share something special with someone or do something cool. I don''t know."


    "Kinda missed your opportunity..."


    "Whatever," he said with a small smile. "Don''t need to be such a downer."


    "Fine," I said. "So what would you do there?"


    "Since we''ve already talked about the basics of this back on Friday," he said. "I''ll get to the good parts."


    "What''s that supposed to mean?"


    "First, you''ve got to close your eyes to imagine it," Charles said.


    "Sure," I said, playing along with him.


    "So first of all, I''d install a huge helicopter landing pad onto the beach area, so that I''d be able to come and go from the island easily without going through boats since boats are pure evil."


    "That''ll be pretty ugly," I said. "Having this big metal platform on the beach and destroying nature."


    "Fine. It''ll be a big sandstone platform," he said.


    "I''m ninety-nine percent sure that''s not how it works but continue."


    "And there''ll be a whole wedding thing set up," he said. "And you and the other people will be dressed in Hawaiian shirts since suits would be way too formal."


    "So it''s a wedding, but more casual and with helicopters?"


    "And there are going to be animals too," he said. "I''ll bring in some parrots, maybe some giraffes or something to just fill the island with life."


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "But the environment¡ª"


    "The environment can wait," he said. "And I''ll just teleport the animals out using my teleportation machine afterwards."


    "Okay... " I said.


    "Whatever," he said. "The point is that it''ll be epic. We''d be older at that time, so there would be alcohol flowing around¡ª"


    "Sounds like a good way to get cirrhosis and die young."


    "Along with my de-alcoholing machine, so that you won''t get liver disease and die. Anyways, there would be lots of rice because rice is great. Chicken curry too, and hamburgers because why not. Maybe throw in a little pineapple pizza because it''s Hawaii."


    "Gross," I said. "Pineapple pizza is actually evil."


    "I''d kill for pineapple pizza right now," he replied. "Anyways, we''d party all night and just get tired and stare at the stars."


    And as Charles continued talking, I imagined what this, admittedly very unrealistic, future would be like. We''d be lying on the beach, our stomachs so filled with food that we''d feel a bit queasy but fulfilled and happy. Our alcohol-tinged breaths would mingle in the dark as waves crashed in the distance, but instead of being violent tides sweeping over the beach, it''d be a calm, soothing lapping.


    He''d point up at the stars and draw Orion on the summer sky while I''d dig my fingernails into the sand, feeling the soothing grittiness on my hands. And the moon would be in its right place in the sky, not too close for comfort, but not too far away. Just in a perfect crescent. Life would just pause for a minute because even it knows that sometimes people deserve to have the best times of their lives extended for just a little longer.


    "It would be paradise," Charles said.


    "It would," I said and sighed. "If only it were true."


    "Our dreams are the closest to reality that we got," he said, and I opened my eyes. "Do you want to finish the rest of the book or head back?"


    "I think I''ve got what I wanted," I said. "Thanks."


    "You want to keep the book?" he asked. "I doubt that the library volunteer would mind."


    "Nah," I said. "Let''s leave it back here. Let other people dream of better futures too."


    "That''s a good idea," he said and tucked the book back into the shelf, sticking it a little out.


    "It''s just if I want to find it again," he added and turned towards me. "So you were saying something about how you got extra time to come here."


    "Well, I had to ask my mom about it," I replied. "She was alright with it, but my Dad had an incident yesterday, and my mom shut down our house. I''m only allowed to leave once a week."


    "So the food..."


    "Yeah," I said. "I think I''ve got a plan."


    "Which is?"


    "I''m going to get a bag of food and set it outside on Friday," I said. "All you need to do is to grab it sometime in the morning."


    "Thanks for doing this," he said.


    "No worries," I said. "There''s just something I need to ask you."


    "Name it, and you''ve got it."


    "I''ll need something, like a garlic or potato, from the garden," I replied. "Mom''s been bugging me about it, and if it''s a long ask, then I''ll make up some excuse for it, but, you know, sometimes¡ª"


    "I''ll do my best to find something," he said. "Don''t need to worry."


    "You need me to walk you back to your house?" I asked.


    "Nah," he said. "I''m staying here a little longer. It''s nice."


    "Okay," I replied and started walking to the front of the library. "Goodbye."


    "Goodbye," he said, and he burrowed deeper into the sections of books.


    I went up to the front desk and returned the flashlight. The front desk volunteer asked if I had any books that I wanted to check out, but I shook my head and left the library. The sky was still gray, the clouds of ash still hanging over my head. And for some reason, I felt disappointed. Disappointed that life just couldn''t magically get better. That the clouds couldn''t just part and let the sun come out.


    So when I got home and Mom asked how everything went, I told her that everything went fine. I saw May sitting on the couch and staring at the sky, dreaming of getting out of this city and to be with her friends and everyone else who has moved to the South. When I walked into my room, I saw Mira gazing at the photos from yesterday and crying softly, dreaming of a future where she and Leon could be together.


    I sat next to her in silence, giving her the best sense of comfort that I could since I didn''t know what to say. So I just sat there as her tears came out, saying absolutely nothing. Everything feels caked with ash. The streets, our roof, our hopes, our dreams, our futures, our everything.

 Chapter 14, Part 1

    August 10


    "Mom, can I go outside?" May asked in the morning.


    Both Mom and I looked at her weirdly. Other than the forced trips to the food bank, the wood gathering sessions on Mondays, Mom''s weird hiking session a month or so ago, the survival book hunt in the library, and Clara''s birthday, I don''t think May''s ever left the house.


    "Where to?" Mom asked.


    "Just to see if one of my friends is still here," she said. At that moment, I knew it was a lie, but the reason behind it was a mystery.


    Mom didn''t say anything.


    "What?" May asked. "If Neal gets to visit Charles pretty much every day¡ª"


    "Hey, not every day," I said, but she ignored me.


    "Then, why can''t I visit my friend after, like, two months."


    "Alright," Mom said. "You can go, but you need to bring either Neal or Mira along with you."


    "What?" May exclaimed. "This is so sexist. Neal can do whatever he wants to do, but I need a babysitter."


    "Neal is sixteen," Mom said. "When you get old enough to drive your own car, I''ll give you more freedom, but you''re fourteen right now, and you''ll need someone older to supervise you."


    "I''m almost fifteen," May blurted out, grasping at straws.


    "Fifteen is not sixteen," Mom said. "So either Neal or Mira are coming with you. Your choice."


    "I''ll come," I said, chiming in.


    "Fine," May said. "I''m going to get ready now."


    She walked through the hallway, though stomped would be more appropriate. Mom sighed and put her hand on her chin. There was an awkward silence between us.


    "Actually, I take that back. Weren''t you outside yesterday?" Mom asked. "Maybe it''s better if Mira goes."


    "I don''t think Mira might be up to going," I said. "Because, you know."


    "Oh..." Mom said. "Okay. Just for today I''ll make an exemption."


    Just after she said that, May popped in. "I''m ready to leave. So let''s go."


    "Wait," I said and walked towards the hallway. "I need to change. Give me a minute."


    "Well, hurry up then."


    I went into my room and hastily put on a heavy ski jacket and thick pants. When I got to the front door, May had put on her shoes and was waiting impatient next to Mom. "Took you long enough."


    "So, remember¡ª" Mom said before she was cut off.


    "Yep. Less than an hour or else I''m grounded for life. Blah-blah-blah. We get it."


    May opened the door. The air was still today, the ash clinging to the rooftops unmoving.


    "Stay safe," Mom said.


    "Don''t worry. We won''t die," May replied.


    We walked away from our house. May kicked up some ash and watched it float, blossoming into a cloud of gray, before settling once again.


    "So you want to tell me where we''re going?" I asked. "Since it''s clearly not a friend''s house."


    "No duh," she said and pulled out a key from her pocket. "This is where we''re going."


    I stopped walking. "How''d you even get it?"


    "Dad just left it in a drawer. I found it a couple weeks back."


    "So we''re just going to break into the Hunters'' house?" I asked. "And then what? Just take their stuff."


    "Pretty much, yeah," she said. "Do you have some problem with that?"


    "Yeah," I said. "We''re basically stealing from¡ª"


    "They gave us the key," May replied before I could finish. "Dad''s just not being smart about this. We''re practically dying here, so we might as well use all the resources that we can to survive."


    "I don''t know about this..." I said.


    "Just think about this this way. Let''s say that we find an axe or something important for our survival. Then Dad will not have to work as hard to cut down trees, which means that he''ll stay healthy and we''ll get enough wood, which means that we''ll stay warm in winter and not die of hypothermia," she replied. "Everyone wins."


    "And what if Dad finds out?"


    "He won''t," she said. "I''ve got a plan for that."


    "Okay," I said and looked around. "So what are we doing here then? We passed the Hunters'' house already."


    "Mom might be looking out of the window."


    "She''s not that paranoid," I said, and May gave me a look.


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    "Oh she definitely is," May said. "Yesterday, she literally looked out of the window until you disappeared into the haze."


    We waited a bit longer. I exhaled deeply and saw my breath seep out of my mask, visible in the cold air. I adjusted my mask to tighten it. Hopefully, no ash actually made it into my lungs.


    "Is the coast clear?" I asked.


    "I think so," she said. "Let''s go."


    So we walked towards the Hunters'' house, a couple houses away from our house. May told me to move quickly because she was worried that Mom might glance out of the window and see us sneaking into the house. May inserted the key into the front door, opening it with a heavy chink. We both ran inside, and she shut the door with a soft thud.


    The inside was pretty barren. The living room had been stripped of everything personal, especially the photographs that adorned the room that I remember from that last time our families had dinner, and the walls laid there, starkly empty. May flung open the cabinets. Nothing.


    "They couldn''t leave any food behind," May grumbled. "What was the point in even giving us the key?"


    I went into the kitchen to help her. Nothing in the cabinets except for some packets of pink lemonade.


    "A win is a win," she said and shrugged.


    "This is some sad raiding," I said.


    "Did you check the pantry yet?" she asked.


    "Nope," I said. "I wanted you to do the honors."


    May flung open the pantry. There was a single can of brussel sprouts smack dab in the center of the middle shelf, covered in a thin layer of dust. I grabbed a stool and stood on it to check the top shelf of the pantry. There were just some old mason jars and a smiley-face lemonade pitcher. I climbed back down, and May picked up the can.


    "Well that''s at least something," she said.


    "Did you check the expiring date?" I asked.


    She looked at the back of the can, and her face fell. "Oh..."


    "Yeah," I said and nodded. "There was probably a good reason they left that behind."


    "Who even has two years expired canned brussel sprouts in their pantry?" she said. "And canned food lasts, like, forever, so who knows even what century that came from? Disgusting."


    "Should we go check the garage?"


    "What are you waiting for?" she asked. "Let''s go."


    We walked through the house and towards the garage. The wooden floors creaked underneath us as faded gray light passed through the dust-streaked windows. May made a detour to check out the closet, though it was empty, just like basically all of this house. I have no idea how the Hunters packed basically everything. They must be packing gods or something.


    A washer and dryer hung in front of the entrance to the garage, lonely and unused. May tapped the top of one with her hand, the metallic clang echoing softly in the laundry room. It was dark in the room. "Did you bring a flashlight?"


    "Of course," she said. "I''m not dumb."


    She pulled out one flashlight for herself and one from me. She opened the door to the garage. "Looks like we hit the gold mine."


    There was a massive clutter of randomness in the garage. I moved my flashlight around. There were cardboard boxes and supplies strewn across the floor. I spotted some toolboxes laying on a shelf and my light glinted off of something shiny and metal, and I walked towards it.


    There was no axe lying on the shelf, just a bunch of screwdrivers and hammers. I sighed.


    "Look what I found," May said.


    She picked up a solar panel, the same brand as the one we had at home. "It''s not really going to be useful," I said. "Given that the sun is gone pretty much all the time."


    "Whatever," she said and moved her flashlight around, investigating the mess of supplies in the middle of the garage.


    I turned back and shone my light on the shelf. There were boxes filled with personal items, beat-up stuffed animals, messily painted ceramic coffee cups, string-up lights, old Christmas ornaments, sparkling under the fluorescent light. I felt guilty looking at these. There was history behind many of them, memories and dreams imbued into them. And we were just stealing whatever we wanted with no mind to the history behind them, treating them as if they were objects and nothing else.


    I tried to shake off these thoughts and kneeled down to check the bottom row. There were a couple of weights and lots of cardboard boxes. I pulled one out, but there was nothing in there other than multicolored wires and a mouse from a decade ago. Just as I was putting it back, my flashlight caught on something dull and metallic on the back of the shelf.


    It was an axe, hidden by the cardboard boxes and covered in dust and cobwebs. I grabbed it, cringing at the feeling of the silky threads on my skin, and I stood up, holding it. "Look what I found."


    May turned around. "Lucky. All I found were a bunch of fishing rods, and it''s not like we''re ever going to use them since no one in our family eats fish."


    "So what''s your plan for the axe?"


    "So next week, when you meet up with Charles, that''s when you bring back the axe."


    "I don''t get it."


    "Just tell them you guys went to the garden and found it in a supply shed and found the axe."


    "You know Dad will be," I said. "If he''s so opposed to this thing with the Hunters'' stuff, then he''ll be even more opposed to taking something from the garden."


    "You''ll be able to think of something," May replied. "And Mom and Dad will believe you no matter what you say unless you say that a flying unicorn gave it to you or something."


    "That was a pretty awful plan, you know," I replied.


    "It sounded better in my head," she said. "Anyways, let''s go now. We''re probably over Mom''s time limit."


    So we went up the stairs and out of the front door, careful to make sure that the door was properly locked. Small flecks of ash were beginning to fall, covering the faded wooden porch, and I tightened my mask as the both of us walked home.


    As soon as we opened the door, Mom began to interrogate us, or more specifically, May.


    "So how was it?" Mom said in her faux casual voice.


    "It was alright," May said and shrugged.


    "What did you guys do?"


    "Riya and I just talked a bit," May replied. "Her family is doing as fine as you can be doing with the whole world ending."


    Mom looked at me. "And you, Neal?"


    I shrugged. "It was awkward," I lied. "Just sitting there and not doing much, I guess."


    "Anyways," May said loudly before Mom could keep interrogating us. "What delicious can of food are we going to be eating for brunch today?"


    "String beans," Mom said. "And make sure to take the vitamin gummies."


    May went into the pantry and grabbed a can of strong beans and went into the kitchen to open it and heat it up over the fire. "Where''s Dad?" I asked Mom.


    "In the garage," she replied. "We''ve got a lighting and heating system down, but we just need more power."


    "Do the solar panels work?" I asked.


    "Yes, actually," Mom replied. "We packed away the solar panels when the volcanoes erupted because we didn''t want the ashfall to damage them, but your father brought them out to see if they worked and they did charge the batteries a little bit."


    "So what''s the problem?"


    She sighed. "We just need more panels. There''s just not enough to maintain the lighting and heating system."


    "You think that the greenhouse is going to work?"


    "Hopefully," Mom said.


    How are we going to get enough power to make the greenhouse work? Solar works but not that well because of the ashfall. I don''t think that Dad or anyone in this family has any clue about how to make wind turbines or river powered ones. Getting a generator might work, but gasoline is as extinct as dinosaurs. It''s weird to think about how much we''re all thinking about power now compared to before when we just flicked on the lights so casually.


    Mom declared that tomorrow was dish-washing day. May was pretty annoyed by that, but even I could see her protests were more half-hearted now compared to when the world was a bit better.


    "Can electricity just come back?" she asked during dinner.


    There was an awkward pause as everyone waited for the lights to flicker back on because that''s what would''ve happened in the movies. But the lights stayed off, and May grumbled, "I can''t believe that I''m actually missing the dishwasher."


    "Me too," Mom said. "But we just have to keep adapting."


    "Screw the Moon," May mumbled under her breath.


    Mom didn''t even scold May for saying that, probably because there was a part of her that agreed with May. She only sighed and dumped her used fork in the sink. Dish-washing tomorrow is going to be a pain.

 Chapter 14, Part 2

    August 11


    Dish-scrubbing was such a pain.


    May complained the whole way through. Mira silently washed the dishes, barely speaking at all. I poured dish soap on the plates, scrubbing them with a limp sponge, feeling the mixture of suds and food scraps on my palms. I tried my best not to think about it.


    It took us an hour or two to get everything washed, dried, and put into the proper cabinets. Mom looked upon us, satisfied that everyone was being productive, but May was anything but satisfied. She spent most of the time just glaring at the dishes, hoping that lasers would come from her eyes and clean the dishes. It was actually pretty funny to watch.


    I got some of the stuff ready for the food drop-off for Charles. When I was getting everything ready, I realized that I had forgotten to ask about when and where we were meeting next Tuesday, so I grabbed some paper, a pen, and some tape and put them together. "What are you doing with those?" Mom asked.


    "Just organizing them," I lied.


    It seems like I''m lying to Mom and Dad more often. I guess I feel guilty, but it feels weird that I feel only a twinge of guilt, nothing overwhelming or anything that''ll make me tell them that I''m lying. In fact, just the thought of telling them the truth scares me because what if they stop me from giving food to Charles because he''s not family, and his family starves and dies, and I''ll be responsible for the deaths of people who feel like family, even if they aren''t.


    I can''t let that happen. I just can''t. I hope Mom and Dad understand if they find out.


    August 12


    I woke up early in the morning, unable to get any proper sleep last night. I was just too nervous about the Charles situation.


    Mira, May, and I were all bathed in the dark cerulean glow of dawn. I slipped on a jacket and walked softly out of the room, opening and closing the door with a faint creak. I walked more hastily down the hallway, paranoid that Mom or Dad or anyone was going to open the door and see me.


    I opened a plastic bag, filling it with a mixture of anchovy, mixed vegetables, and brussel sprouts cans. Then I scrawled a short note asking when we should meet up and tape it to the front of the bag along with a pen and another piece of paper. My heart was beating fast, and my palms were sweaty. I nearly had a heart attack when I heard a creak in the hallway and thought it was Mom or Dad coming out.


    Opening the front door, I walked out. There was a blind spot on the porch, an area that anyone looking at our house would be able to see, but no one looking from our house would be able to see. That''s where I put the canvas bag, nestling it between ash-stained grass stalks, brittle from the lack of rain, making sure the note was visible for him.


    But when I stepped back, I heard the creaking of someone opening the door. I quickly moved to the porch steps, standing there and gazing at the sky.


    "Neal?" I heard someone say.


    I looked back. It was Mira, dressed in pajamas, her hair in a mess like she had just woken up. "What are you doing out here?" she asked.


    "I couldn''t sleep," I replied. "And I wanted a breath of fresh air. What about you?"


    "Same thing," she said. "I think I had a nightmare or something, but I don''t really remember."


    She sat down at the top of the porch steps, and I sat next to her. There was this awkward silence that settled between us.


    "Thanks," she said, and I must''ve looked confused before she clarified. "For being there, two days back. I never thanked you for being there."


    "No need to thank me," I said, and she sighed. "Is something wrong?"


    "I''m sorry," she said, and her voice cracked a bit. "I''m trying to stay strong for you guys, but I feel like I''m even failing at this."


    There was a long silence between us. What was I supposed to say?


    "You just lost someone," I said after a long pause. "It''s alright to feel like this."


    "I hate that I can''t put just everything that I''m feeling to the side and just deal with it," she said. "I just can''t, and it''s frustrating."


    "Then don''t."


    "What do you mean?"


    "I don''t really know, but I guess you''re supposed to confront your emotions headfirst, you know, like what they do in the movies."


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    "What''s that supposed to mean?"


    "I don''t know either," I said and sighed. "I wish I knew the right things to say."


    There was another silence between us. The air was frigid, and I could see my breath in the navies of the dawn light, like a small puff of smoke.


    "Do you think Leon''s out there, staring at the same sunrise as us?" she asked


    "I guess," I said. "He''s probably in Arizona or New Mexico by now. They''d have seen the same sunrise as us, but a bit earlier."


    "Actually," I added. "They wouldn''t see the same sunrise as us. The skies would be clearer down south, and they''ll be able to see the sun slowly rising above the desert."


    "Do you actually believe this?" she asked and swung her foot.


    "I try to," I said.


    A gust of wind kicked up a small cloud of dust, forming ghosts of flowers awash in lighter blues as the sun rose behind the ash clouds.


    "So tell me more," she said.


    I could see something in her eyes, wanting to believe that Leon was better, so I weaved a story for her. "They''d be in a cabin with a watering well far away from everyone that they''d be safe. The government would be handing out gasoline to everyone because they''ve got plenty and there would be heating and power. There''d be plenty of greenhouses and food for everyone, and Leon would be there, thinking about you, finding a way to come back because he loves you."


    I knew she didn''t believe a word that I said, except for the very end of my story, but it''s one of the things where you know someone is just making up a story, but it feels easier, almost better, to believe every word they said. I don''t know if it''s worse letting someone feel like they''ve lost hope or handing them a sliver of hope, only for the world to take it away from them.


    "Thank you," she said.


    "He''s coming back," I said, but from her half-hearted nod, I knew that even she didn''t believe that was going to happen.


    "I''m going inside now," she said. "You probably should come too. You don''t want to breathe in all that ash."


    "I''m coming after you," I said.


    I stared at the sky, hoping that the ash clouds would break and let sunlight come through, cutting through the cold and ash. But nothing happened and the haze of ash stayed put, enshrouding the sun. And I sighed and stood up. I guess I even fell for my own story.


    The other portion of the morning was spent trying to make sure that no one saw that Charles came and took the bag of food. I closed all the curtains in the front of our house so no one would peek out and accidentally see him. When Mom woke up and asked what I was doing, I said, "I''m tired of looking at the sky."


    "Aren''t we all," Mom said. "But keep the curtains open."


    "Why?"


    "It''s too dark inside, and we have to make do with what little sunlight we have."


    "Just for this morning," I said. "I just need to take my eyes away from the sky."


    "Fine," Mom said and shuffled out of the living room. "I''ve got a headache anyways. I''m going to try and get some sleep."


    She turned back and looked at me. "Open them sometime in the afternoon, though. I hate how dark it is every day."


    "Will do," I said and closed the curtains hanging over the living room.


    When I was busy eating a can of limp corn in the middle of morning, May woke up and went into the kitchen, asking, "Why is our house so angsty?"


    "Mom''s tired," I lied. "She told me to close some of the curtains to help her get some sleep."


    I don''t know why I lied. I guess it would feel weird to tell May this thing because I don''t think she''d understand, at least not in the way that Mom and I do.


    "That''s weird," she said. "Everything is weird right now."


    "No, duh."


    She sat down and stabbed at the little bits of corn in her can with her fork. "The moon messed up everything."


    "Way to say the obvious," I quipped.


    "The next three years were supposed to be my years," she said. "I was supposed to get a car and start driving. I was supposed to celebrate my sweet sixteen with all of my friends. I was supposed to get a boyfriend and have him take me out to prom. But the moon had to just come closer to the Earth and ruin everything."


    "Now, everyone is gone," she added. "And life just sucks."


    "So that''s it then. Your whole life ruined because you couldn''t go to prom."


    "That''s not the point," she said. "Those next three years of my life were mine until the moon stole them away from me."


    "I don''t get it."


    "I don''t expect you to get it," she said. "It''s not like you were going to prom next year anyways."


    "I literally don''t understand. What''s the big deal with missing those three years?"


    "You don''t get it," she replied. "These experiences were supposed to be mine. They were supposed to happen until our dumb moon decided to rob them from me."


    I kinda understood what she was saying then, the loss of the normal part of her future. Even though it felt shallow, and I didn''t know why she''d attach her dreams to pointless high school stuff, I understood her pain. It was like Mira''s pain too, the apocalypse snatching away both of their normal futures they had planned in their minds.


    "What?" she said. "Nothing to say. See, I didn''t think you''d get it at all."


    She picked up her fork and dumped it in the sink and stormed away before I could say anything. Not like there was anything to say to her. Sometimes, conversations are meant to end in an awkward reply-less silence.


    Around noon, I went outside to check on the bag of food, making sure to wear a mask tight around my face. It had disappeared, and there was a note in its place.


    This coming Tuesday. Mid-afternoon. Library. ~ Charles


    I grabbed the note and tucked it into my pocket, heading back indoors and opening up the curtains, letting the pale light in. Our house grew a bit bright, the gray afternoon sunlight washing the counters and cabinets with a faded glow, like they were being painted on by watercolor.


    "You got what you were looking for?" someone asked.


    I nearly jumped. It was Mom, holding a cup of hot water. "Yeah," I said. "It was nice to avoid the sky for a whole morning."


    "Good," she said. "So you want to tell me where this came from?"


    I shrugged, trying to show nonchalance even though my heart felt like it was going to explode. "I don''t know. I guess I''m just bored looking at all the grey."


    "Anything you want to talk about?" Mom asked with a more concerned face. Did she know I was lying? Or did she think it was something else? I wasn''t going to find out.


    "No," I said and left, heading towards my room, where I spent the rest of the day re-reading some old coming-of-age books. In nearly every one of them, the characters told the truth and got rewarded by it with everyone forgiving them in the very end. I sighed while reading those sections, wishing that was how the world works.


    It''s too bad that that''s not how life is like. There are some things that I just can''t tell anyone.

 Chapter 14, Part 3

    August 13


    Dad woke us up early in the morning.


    May mumbled and turned on her bed. "Don''t disturb me," she mumbled.


    I blinked groggily, attempting to find my glasses while Mira yawned and stretched her arms. "Why are you waking us up so early?"


    "We''re going to the food drive," Dad said. "Right now. Hurry up. Your Mom thinks it''s a good idea too to get out early."


    "Shh," May said. "I''m trying to sleep."


    Dad shook her. "You can sleep afterwards. Let''s go."


    May groaned and stood up, her hair a tangled mess.


    "Stupid moon," she said under her breath. "I hate you."


    We all got dressed in thick jackets, long pants, and gloves. May was feeling extra cold this morning, so Mom found a scarf for her in the closet. Grandma and Grandpa both were dressed in three layers of coats. The temperature must''ve been around thirty degrees this morning, cold enough for snow and ice to form.


    It was still dark when we stepped out, but I could make out silhouettes of sycamore trunks and houses under the dark blues. Mom was going to pull out a flashlight to see, but Dad stopped her.


    "It might make us a target," he said. "If they see that we have batteries."


    "Having batteries doesn''t mean anything," Mom said.


    "It might," Dad said. "I''m just worried."


    "Okay," Mom said and put the flashlight away, so we walked in the dark.


    When we entered the plaza, there was an odd buzz in the air, one I hadn''t felt in a while. There were about twenty people lined up, waiting for the bags of food before the crack of dawn, their soft murmurs drifting in the wind. May looked oddly happy for some reason, but Dad furrowed his eyebrows and walked more cautiously. You never know what people are going to be like during these times.


    I looked around at the people lining up. None of them had any visible guns or weapons, so I thought we were going to be alright. But a weird sound broke my gazing, a rumble of some vehicle.


    I think everyone collectively turned around. From the ashy haze emerged a postal truck, emblazoned with the characteristic blue eagle on the side, just driving down that street like everything was normal. All of a sudden someone clapped, and it spread like wildfire, and pretty soon, everyone was cheering and clapping. If the government could fund postal trucks, maybe everything would finally be going back to normal.


    I looked at Mira. "If they''ve got postal trucks, that means that the roads are clear and they''re getting gasoline from somewhere. Leon''s going to be alright."


    She looked at me. "I hope so."


    "He will be alright," I said. "Maybe it''s the world saying that it''s time for everything to get better and return to normal."


    "Maybe," she said, her words trailing off. There was a bit of hope and hurt in the way that she said it, like her heart hoping that it''ll be true even though her mind is telling her that it won''t happen.


    There was an awkward silence between us. I was going to continue talking about this, but I stopped myself. Maybe I was hurting her, preventing her from moving on and making her latch onto something that might be just a one-time event and nothing more. And suddenly, the same feeling of guilt washed over me as before, like a cascade of ash, because I was still hurting her.


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    Luckily for me, May broke the awkward silence between us.


    "So, if the power is coming back, what''s the first thing you guys are going to do?" she asked. "I''m going to turn on all the lights in the house because why not?"


    "That seems like a waste of electricity," I said.


    "Meh," she said. "Who cares? Life will finally be normal again."


    "I''d go on the internet," I said. "And just browse over everything that I''ve missed."


    "Like what?" she asked. "There''s no news or anything new. The internet has been pretty much frozen in time since the whole apocalypse started. What a waste of your first electricity celebration."


    "Better than turning on all the lights," I shot back.


    "I''d charge the batteries," Mira said. "Maybe get some laundry and dishes done."


    "Boring," May replied. "We''re talking about a world when everything is back to normal, normal, you know."


    "No," I said to May. "Doing the laundry is a great idea. I don''t know if we''re all doing it wrong, but all of our clothes smell a little funky and are a little ashy."


    "What about for fun?" May asked Mira. "Like, just because you could."


    "I haven''t really thought about it."


    "Well, you must have something," May said and turned to Mira. "Like anything you''d want to do that needs electricity."


    "Well, I''d probably call up the white-water rafting center, and just book a trip because I''m going to reclaim a part of summer that the volcanoes stole from me."


    "That''s the spirit," May said to Mira, and Mira smiled a bit. They really were getting closer to each other.


    "Hey, what about me?" I asked. "Don''t I get a ''That''s the spirit'' too?"


    ''You''re not invited," May said. "Only cool kid ideas are allowed here."


    "Wow," I said. "That''s so un-cool of you."


    We talked a bit more after that. Everything felt normal, for some reason, like we were not worrying about starving or running out of supplies or whatever terrible thing that could happen while the world was ending. It was just us three, or the M&Ms, as we called ourselves when we were younger.


    When we got our food, Dad and I both looked into our individual bags. Five cans sat on the bottom. I sighed a breath of relief, and I could see Dad doing the same. Sure, five cans aren''t a lot, but at least the number isn''t going down. That''s the best we can hope for now. We were just about to exit when Mom went back to ask a question. "Do you know when school is starting again?" she asked.


    The volunteer at the counter sighed. "I don''t know. Maybe check the billboard."


    "What billboard?" Mom asked.


    "Near the fountain on the left side of the building," he said. "It''s the only tall thing in the plaza."


    "Thank you," Mom said and turned back.


    We walked together to the billboard near the fountain. It truly was the only tall thing in the plaza, except for the centerpiece of the fountain, standing tall and dry, the only things flowing over it being ashes. We all scanned the billboard.


    I saw a couple of church flyers plastered to the board along with some other tidbits like letters of encouragement, decorated in paper hearts and flowers, and goodbye notices. The most heartbreaking ones were the slips of paper posted on the wall, asking for help and food. I tore my eyes away from them because I just couldn''t bear to look at those letters.


    My eyes caught on a bright blue piece of paper in the center of the billboard.


    School is not opening for in-person classes at this moment. Pick up your supplies from the school by August 27th. For more information, an information session will be held on August 17th in the library.


    Mom just stared at the billboard for a couple of seconds.


    "So what are we going to do about it?" I asked.


    "Tomorrow, we''re picking up your books," Mom said. "And I''m going to the meeting on Wednesday."


    "Seriously?" May asked. "You''re still thinking about school? After all of this."


    "Don''t say that," Mom said.


    "Well, it''s true," May grumbled.


    "Watch your tone, May," Dad said. "We''re just trying to do what''s best for you guys."


    I think May was going to say something back, but she held it to herself. Ashes began to fall from the sky, filling the fountain up with gray dust.


    "Whatever," she said. "Let''s just go. It''s snowing now."


    "Good," Mom said and looked at Dad approvingly.


    They took the lead, walking across the ash-stained plaza with Mira in the middle and May and I in the back. I could hear May mumble something under her breath. "I''m trying to do what''s best for you guys."


    Mira heard it and looked at May strangely, but I understood what she meant, sacrificing a bit of her dignity to keep the axe a secret from Mom and Dad. May looked at me, and her eyes were literally saying, "You better come up with a good reason soon."


    I do hope that I come up with a good reason. I''ve got the ideas of one, but nothing fully formed. It''s weird that I''m planning out my lies now. Before, it used to be a spontaneous thing, just to deflect away from the truth, but now, it feels like I''m lying all the time. With Charles'' situation and May''s axe situation and all the white lies that I''ve told in between, I guess I''m feeling guilty about it, especially when I think about Mira and our promise not to lie to each other and all the hurt my lies have caused.


    But I can''t stop. I''ve got to keep lying because it''s going to help other people. I just hope this isn''t something I''m saying to myself to make me feel better.

 Chapter 15, Part 1

    August 14


    We went to school in the morning.


    May and I got bundled in thick jackets and sweaters, tightly fastening on our masks, before slipping into our sneakers. The sky was as dark as usual, and it felt like Mom woke me up at four in the morning, though it could''ve been eleven in the afternoon. It''s hard to tell the time these days.


    "I need to clean my shoes," May said just before we exited, looking at her formerly white sneakers, now stained with streaks of gray.


    "We need to save¡ª" Mom said but was cut off.


    "I know," May replied. "It''s just a dream, for when things get better."


    Mom''s face softened, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening. "I think we might be able to afford to spend a little water to wash them."


    "It''s fine," May replied, looking at the ground, kicking the dusty rug. "I don''t need it. Can we just go?"


    "Don''t kick up the dust," Mom said and patted down May''s pants, smearing ash down her leggings. "You''re getting ash all over your pants."


    "Whatever," May grumbled. "It''s not like anyone cares anyways."


    I think Mom was going to say something but held it back, and we began walking towards school, one ash rimmed footstep at a time. No one really talked much while we were walking. There really wasn''t much to talk about anyways, and the quiet outside felt better than the crammed indoors. It''s like we could finally breathe outside, even though the air was filled with flakes of ash drifting on the wind.


    Mom''s scarf was billowing in the wind, and she re-adjusted it, wrapping it around her neck securely, and I put on my hood for my ski jacket, the cold seeping into my bones. It must''ve been around thirty degrees that morning, maybe even less. I think it might snow soon, probably not this month or the next but maybe October, when the rains start coming as snow blankets the landscape. Outside of trips to Lake Tahoe, my only memories of snow were faint wisps of an image from toddlerhood on the East Coast that become even blurrier every time that I think about it.


    As we approached our school, I could hear the wrongness in the air. The school grounds were deserted and bare. The electric billboard announcing our school''s name was turned off and smeared with ash as the echoes of old summer conversations and gossip about homecoming drifted in the air.


    "Mom," May said and tugged at Mom''s jacket. "There''s no one here. Let''s go back."


    "There is," Mom said. "Look at the light."


    She pointed at the school library, glowing a soft white.


    "Maybe someone just left the lights on by accident," May replied.


    "If the city is still keeping the lights on for school, it means that there has to be someone in the library." Mom stood a step forward. "Hurry up. I don''t want to get caught in an ash storm."


    So we walked towards the library, passing by empty buildings and hallways. I looked down one, and I could imagine myself, if the Mooncrash never happened, walking down the hallways to head to my advanced biology classes, nervous but cautiously optimistic. Now, if I wanted to learn about biology, the best I could do is a thick textbook chock full of words and a lack of clarity.


    When we entered the library, there was a soft chime of a bell, and Mom looked around. "Hello?"


    I heard a shuffling of footsteps.


    "Hello there," a woman I''ve never seen before said. "Are y''all here for the textbook checkout?"


    "Yes we are," Mom said.


    "Great!" she said. "Y''all are actually the third family to come here for book checkouts, so most of the nicer books are available for checkout."


    She ushered us forwards to rows of tables with rows of cardboard boxes set atop them along with some miscellaneous items scattered here and there. "First row is math, the second is for science, the third for history, the fourth is for foreign languages, the fifth are all our copies of English reading material, if you''re interested."


    "I highly recommend The Great Gatsby," she said but then hesitated. "Though you two might want to skip the Valley of Ashes chapter if it''s too much given everything that''s going on."


    "What''s the Valley of Ashes?" May whispered to me.


    I shrugged back at her and followed the librarian to the last two rows of school material. "These are mostly art supplies and other miscellaneous material. We''ve got some spare SAT and ACT workbooks from the workshops last year if you''re interested and college planning worksheets for if everything gets back to normal."


    She turned towards us. "Pick anything you want and ring the bell at the front desk, and I''ll be there to check out your books. Take all the time you need."


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    She walked away, probably towards a backroom, and I gazed over the long rows of books.


    "There''s no way that I can fit so many textbooks for every single subject in my backpack without dying," May said.


    "Fine," Mom replied. "You have to pick at least two textbooks about anything you''re interested in. And one English book too."


    "One textbook."


    "Nope. Two textbooks and that''s final," Mom said. "I''ll even grab one textbook."


    "That''s so unfair," May complained. "Why do you only get one textbook?"


    "Because I finished college already, and I''m doing this for you. Now hurry up."


    "I thought we got all the time that we needed," May grumbled as she trudged through the rows of books while I followed her as the lights flickered for a moment, threatening to shut down, before coming back again.


    We went through the math section first.


    "Goodbye, geometry! I''m never going to miss you," May shouted, her voice echoing through the cavernous library.


    I picked up a calculus book before putting it down. There was no way that I was going to waste my time studying derivatives and integrals and other useless stuff, so we moved onto the science section.


    "Have you finalized the plan yet?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because we cannot risk Mom or Dad finding out and probably start freaking out."


    "Mostly."


    She picked up a dusty physics book before setting it down. "Well, what is it?"


    "I haven''t got that part completely figured out. Why do you want to know?"


    "Well I''ve got my own plan. And I need to be sure that you''ll be able to convince Dad to take the axe."


    "Well you can''t always be completely sure with everyone," I said. "Especially with the whole thing we''re in and if they catch us in the lie."


    She turned and picked up a chemistry textbook before tossing it to the side. "Well, you know what people say about sacrifice. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices to save our family."


    "That quote is so cliche."


    "Doesn''t make it any less true," she said and picked up a textbook. I looked at her strangely. She never liked science ever.


    "I''m doing this for Mom," she added and turned into the history section.


    "You go ahead," I said. "I forgot to get a book from this section."


    "You''re actually studying these textbooks. God, sometimes you''re such a nerd."


    I ignored her and went into the section about environmental science. The windmills adorning the cover caught my eyes, rolling pastures and skies saturated with so much blue that it hurt my eyes, but in a good way. I picked up the book and flipped through the pages, filled with solar panels and forests and bursts of life, before putting it in my backpack and running to the history section.


    I''m not exactly sure why I picked up that textbook. Maybe I''m being naive, but I want my future to be like that, not dead and desolate but filled with shades of green, and maybe, I''d want to help make a future like that possible. I don''t know why I''m writing so much about this anyways.


    By the time I had reached May, she had picked up her last remaining textbook, European history, grabbed a tenth-grade comic titled Persepolis, and cursed at a Spanish textbook, before waiting impatiently next to Mom for me to finish so that we could all check out.


    So I quickly made my way through the sections, grabbing a government textbook, two sets of colored pencils, and briefly glancing over the English books, grabbed a copy for The Great Gatsby before heading to check out the books.


    "Took you long enough," May said.


    "What book did you get?" I asked Mom.


    "French one," Mom said. "I''ve always wanted to visit France, so when all of this is over, maybe I''ll finally get this opportunity."


    "Mom also forgot to mention that she got us all SAT and ACT workbooks."


    "It''s good practice," she said. "Has anyone dinged the bell?''


    "I''ll do it," May said and tapped the bell too many times.


    The librarian emerged from her backroom with a smile even if she was a tad annoyed as we took our books out from our backpacks and placed them on the counter for checkout. She pulled out two notecards and placed them on the desk.


    "No normal checking out?" May asked.


    "I''m afraid not. There''s only enough electricity to support the lighting and barely," she said. "Just write your first and last name on the card along with the textbooks you''re checking out."


    "And that''s it?"


    "Yes," the librarian said, scanning over May''s books. "Ooh. French, very interesting choice to learn about."


    "That''s not me," May replied and looked at Mom. "It was my mom''s pick."


    Mom smiled. "It''s never too late to keep learning."


    "The best lessons I''ve learned were in my fifties," the librarian said and nodded. "You never get too old to stop learning."


    As May and I filled out our notecards, Mom and the librarian talked a bit more as the lights flickered again.


    "Are you going to be here for the rest of the week?" Mom asked.


    "Only for two more weeks, and by then, I think I''ll have enough gas to make the trek South, like everyone else has."


    "What do you mean?" Mom asked. "About the gas part. Are there any gas stations nearby still selling gas?"


    The librarian''s smile faltered a bit, and she looked downwards, scratching her thick gray hair. "Well, I wasn''t exactly supposed to tell, but the city has been paying workers like me with gas. Most people are using it for the lights and heating, but I''m saving mine for the big trip South before everything freezes over."


    She then looked at Mom. "You''re not going to tell anyone, right? The city told me to keep it a secret just because when you have something that people want, the guns come out, and it gets dangerous."


    "Of course not," Mom said. "But when you leave, they''ll be an opening, right?"


    "Maybe," the librarian said, though there was something oddly familiar about the way she was saying it. "How about I write your name down on a notecard and send it to the city in two weeks?"


    "That sounds great," Mom said and put her name on the notecard. "Thank you."


    The librarian took the note card and put it in a drawer.


    "Are the rumors really true?" Mom asked. "About conditions in the South."


    "I can only hope so," she said and looked into the distance, chuckling. "It''s funny how I spent my whole life running away from Texas and all my small-minded friends, and now, going back to Texas is the only thing on my mind. I guess maybe we weren''t so different after all."


    No one really knew what to say.


    "Anyway, y''all probably don''t want to hear me rambling," she said. "It was nice talking with y''all. Stay safe and stay strong."


    We waved goodbye and left the library. Mom''s prediction about the ash storm hadn''t come true, the sky dark gray but not snowing flurries of ash as we thought it would but, but just plain old gray skies. The walk back was even quieter, Mom barely attempting to make conversation, tired from the one in the library.


    Nothing much interesting happened today, except for the fact that May started complaining about not feeling well. Everyone mostly ignored her, not that they didn''t care, but Mom and Dad just thought that she was being overdramatic. May said she had a plan, but I''m not too sure what feeling sick has to do with the plan. Wood gathering tomorrow is going to be such a pain.

 Chapter 15, Part 2

    August 15


    I finally understand what May''s plan was.


    In the morning, May started complaining about stomach cramps.


    "I want to throw up," she told Mom as Mom checked her temperature with the back of her palm.


    "You don''t seem to have a temperature."


    "Well, I''m feeling super sick right now," she said and rolled in bed. "I think I''m going to throw up now."


    "Maybe she has the stomach flu," I said. "Remember the last time I was sick, I didn''t have a fever, but I had really bad stomach pains."


    "Should I get some hot water?" Mira asked, looking at May with her eyes scrunched up with concern. "Maybe make some soup or something?"


    "That''s a good idea," Mom replied. "Maybe make her some tea and use one of those mixed vegetable cans for soup. See if we have some canned chicken in the back of the pantry. I think I spotted a couple cans a few days ago."


    "Should I make it just for her or for everybody?"


    "Make some for everybody. I think it''ll be nice to eat something different for a change."


    Mira nodded and walked out of our room, almost running to the kitchen, nearly bumping into Dad as he entered our room, all dressed up in his outdoor clothes, clad in a mask with the small axe in his hands. "What''s happening?"


    "May''s sick," Mom said and pointed to May, still clutching her stomach in bed.


    "How?"


    "What do you mean how?" Mom asked. "She just is sick."


    "What could''ve made her sick?" Dad asked. "It can''t be the water because then we''d all be sick. It can''t be the food because it''s canned food. It can''t¡ª"


    "So what are you saying?" Mom asked. "That our daughter is lying to us?''


    "Sometimes she can be overdramatic," Dad exclaimed. "And it just happens to be today, on the day we''re all supposed to go wood gathering. On the day that she complains about every single week."


    "She is not well." Mom pointed at May. "Look at her."


    Mom and Dad were at a standstill, glaring at each other with bright red faces as gray light seeped through the window of our room. Dad let out a harsh sigh and gripped his axe tighter. "Well then I''m going by myself."


    "No," Mom said. "We stick together."


    "Someone had to gather wood," Dad said.


    "We can go some other day of the week. Wednesday or Thursday, when she gets better," Mom said. "It''s only the stomach flu."


    "Who knows if it''s going to start snowing tomorrow?" Dad asked rhetorically. "We can''t afford to delay a single day, not when conditions are getting worse and worse."


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    "Just stop," Mom said. "Just stop this stupidity. We''ve already had this conversation before. One¡ª"


    "One more log won''t save us. Yes, I already know that. But maybe that one log will keep us warm for a couple of extra hours, so that we could find the stamina to gather more wood to stay alive. Or maybe that one log will help keep the fire going for just long enough that we make it through a deep freeze. Or maybe¡ª"


    "Stop with your maybes," Mom said. "All those maybes and what ifs may never happen. But what we know is this: Our daughter is sick right now, and we have no clue what made her sick. That''s what we should be focusing on. The right now problem."


    "I think I know what made her sick."


    Mom and Dad both looked at me. I don''t think they noticed that I was just sitting there. Mom blushed. "Sorry you had to see all that."


    "It''s fine I guess," I replied, scratching my head. What else was I supposed to say? "Anyways, I was thinking that it could be the either her food¡ª"


    "But it''s canned," Dad said, cutting me off. "How could it get spoiled?"


    "I don''t know, maybe there was a dent or something. Or maybe it was the can itself."


    "What''s that supposed to mean?" Dad asked.


    "I don''t know, but I read something a long time ago that the cans themselves are super dirty because when they''re being stored, rats and other insects like cockroaches crawl over them, sometimes spreading all kinds of diseases with their fecal matter."


    "And you never told us this before because..."


    "I never really thought it''d come true," I replied. "I mean we''ve never gotten sick from canned food in our lives, and I just assumed that the writers of that article were exaggerating or something. But I guess not."


    "So let''s get can cleaning," Mom said and turned to Dad. "If you really wanted to help the family, this is your chance."


    Dad sighed, rubbing his hand over his stubble. "Thursday. We''re going to go and collect wood. No exceptions."


    "Fine," Mom replied. "Hurry up. We''ve got a lot of work ahead of us."


    "Fine," Dad said. "But I have to change first."


    "Fine," Mom said and left our bedroom.


    "Fine," Dad mumbled as he lumbered towards the garage to put the axe away.


    I turned towards May. "Well that was a weird end."


    "Our parents are weird," she said and rolled in her bed, pulling the comforter to her face.


    "This was part of your plan, right?"


    "You think I just happened to get sick today," she replied in a whisper. "Of course not. I had to sacrifice my dignity and pretend to be sick so that Dad wouldn''t go wood gathering today."


    "But why?"


    She sighed and turned her head towards me, her hair matted and tangled. "For a smart person, you''re awfully bad at figuring things out. There was no way that I was going to let Dad keep chopping the trees with his tiny little axe instead of the big one that we''re going to give him awfully soon, especially since Dad''s lungs aren''t doing so great, so I did what I had to do. To protect Dad and the rest of us."


    I guess I must''ve had a shocked look on my face because May said, "Don''t act so surprised. Now go and check if the soup is ready. I''m so ready for breakfast in bed."


    I turned around and left the room, gazing at the ashy sky fogging up our memories of summer blue skies. Who knew May thought so far ahead? I knew she didn''t want Dad to keep using the small axe, but I never knew that she would hatch something to stop Dad from actually going out and hurting himself unnecessarily. Maybe I don''t know May as well as I thought even though we''ve been cooped together for months now. I wonder if she always had this in her, and I just never noticed or if this came from the whole Mooncrash.


    Nothing much happened for the rest of the day. I thought I saw a flash of blue skies in the middle of the afternoon, but after I blinked, it just disappeared itself. There was plenty of free time today, so Mom made me do the dishes while Mira did the laundry and the whole afternoon smelled like laundry detergent and chicken broth and a tinge of orange blossom soap. It felt so normal that I could almost pretend that everything was normal, that the grey skies were from winter storms and the ash coating the ground was just from a once-in-a-hundred-year snowstorm.


    But then I felt the growling of my stomach and I saw the tinge of sadness in Mira and the flurries of dark ash coating the ground in the late evening, and I know that I have to convince Dad to take the Hunters'' axe because I just have to. I just hope tomorrow goes well for the good of everyone.

 Chapter 15, Part 3

    August 16


    I was exhausted in the morning. My mind was racing all night, and I just couldn''t stop going over the plan over and over, mostly imagining the worst. What if Mom or Dad caught me lying? What if May or I slip up and Mom and Dad ground us for life? Endless what ifs swam through my mind, keeping me up long after midnight.


    In the morning, before everyone woke up, I put five cans into a backpack for Charles: two carrots, two brussel sprouts, and one cherry, and dumped some random towels in there so that the cans wouldn''t clang against each other too loud. After I put the backpack away, hidden enough from view that Mom and Dad and the rest of them wouldn''t find the backpack and open it up and find the cans. After that, it was just waiting.


    And was the waiting painful.


    "Is something special happening today?" Mira asked. "Like between you and Charles?"


    "No, I don''t think so," I replied. "Why?"


    "You just seem so nervous today."


    I shrugged my shoulders, just wishing she would stop talking and just go. I didn''t think that I could handle another conversation, especially with all the anxiety that was pent up in my head.


    "Is everything alright?" she asked and gave me that look that made me feel guilty for just ignoring her as her gaze became more investigative.


    I had to say something to at least make sure she isn''t suspicious about my palms shaking from nervousness. I couldn''t let the plan fail.


    "Have you ever felt¡ª" I said but stopped myself.


    "Felt like what?"


    "Like nervous before meeting with someone that you haven''t met in a while," I replied. "Especially if that someone is your friend."


    "Hasn''t it been a week since you both met?"


    "I know, but it has felt like a lot longer than that. Everyday feels like forever, you know."


    "Yeah," she said. "It''s how I feel when I think of¡ª"


    She paused but I understood who she was talking about. It''s been ten days since he has left, but it felt like decades, the days stretching on and on and on until the next day rolls around.


    "You don''t have to talk about it," I said.


    She looked into the distance. "It''s just that in three or however many years it takes for everything to get back to normal, when we meet again, I wonder if everything''s going to be the same. Same emotions, same feelings, same normal everything between the both of us."


    I didn''t know what to say, so she continued, "But most of the time, I''m thinking about the worst-case scenario, where when we meet and there''s just nothing between us, like everything between us just became dust the second that turned the key and drove away."


    "He''s not going to forget," I said. "I mean how can anyone forget about your sneezing photo."


    Mira blushed and punched me lightly on the shoulder.


    "And even if he did," I said. "Who cares about his opinion, you know? What matters is what you remember, if you understand."


    "It''s just that I feel like that girl," she said. "The one that just mopes around for the entire book instead of picking herself up and getting over it."


    "It''s only been ten days. Maybe you need, you know, more time to figure out things."


    "Yeah," she said, her words trailing off before adding. "Thanks."


    "No problem," I replied, going back to waiting for mid-afternoon to come, hoping that there were no ash storms to derail the plan.


    Though the sky threatened to rain ash, by mid-afternoon, there was nothing and it was windless and clear. Maybe the universe did want me to succeed. Just as I was about to leave, Mom asked me, "What''s the backpack for?"


    I had prepared for this. "I''ve finished basically all the library books. Just checking out more at the library."


    "Okay," she replied. "Make sure to keep your mask on."


    "Yeah, I know." I pulled open the door and left home, a backpack full of cans and a mind filled with lies, trudging across roads covered with ash, the last of the bright autumn leaves getting dulled and coated by the dust.


    The walk to the library was quiet, the air still, the only sounds being my shoes crunching against the flakes of ash on the sidewalk. All of a sudden, I started thinking about the beginning of sixth grade, where everyone in the neighborhood actually talked with each other, all of us kids gathering around and painting the sidewalks with vivid chalk. I just wish I could go back, away from everything that''s happening now. The sun on my cheeks, the aroma of sunscreen wafting around, my hands dusted with green and blue chalk. There''s nothing that can replace those summer afternoons


    When I went to the library, I spotted Charles outside wearing a small backpack. He waved at me, and I waved back as I walked closer. He looked worse than last week, but not as bad as a couple weeks back when he looked really sick. I hope I''m doing enough for them.


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    "Took you long enough," he said. "I''ve been waiting here for an hour."


    "You know, mid-afternoon isn''t the most specific of times," I replied. "You should be more specific."


    "Well I would if I had an actual clock."


    I stood in front of him. "What''s the backpack for?"


    "What''s your backpack for?" he asked.


    "Decided to bring the cans early," I said. "Just because last Friday was just messy, you know. Anyways, what''s your backpack for?"


    "It''s for," he said before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a clear glass jar. "This."


    "A jar?" I asked. "For what?"


    "Well, something that I''ve always wanted to do was to make a collection of pebbles¡ª"


    "Wait, what?" I said, cutting him off. "Haven''t you always said that collecting things is a waste of time and money? Especially those coin collectors."


    He smiled a bit. "Always is a bit of an exaggeration, it''s more like the past few weeks. Everyday has felt like forever."


    "I guess, yeah," I replied as a gust of wind kicked up a cloud of ash. We moved closer to the library door as dust settled in the cracks surrounding the library pillars, "But why pebbles? Why not coins or shells?"


    "Definitely not shells because of the whole beach situation. I mean, do you really want to go back to the beach?"


    "Yeah, I think I''ll pass."


    "As for coins, I don''t know," he said and kicked the ground with his shoes, though I had a sneaking suspicion that he knew. "I guess I just want something permanent to have in my room."


    I understood what he meant, about everything his family sacrificed to keep food on the table, so I switched the topic. "Where are we going?"


    He was probably relieved by the topic change too. "Probably the nearby creek near the train tracks."


    "We''re not going to be breaking into your old house again, are we?"


    "Now that you''ve said it," he said, rubbing his chin with his hand in an exaggerated thinking motion. "That would be a better idea."


    "Great, let''s add another breaking and entering to our post-apocalypse felony list. What do we even have so far?"


    "Breaking and entering number one, trespassing," he replied, ticking off his fingers. "Probably loitering right now since we''re not using the library."


    "Also, the seagull thing," I added. "On the beach back in June."


    "The apocalypse has turned us into real criminals," he said and we both chuckled. It''s ironic that talking and laughing about everything that''s happening is probably the most normal thing we both did today. Sometimes, the world leads people to weird places.


    "Anyways," he said. "We better go."


    I started walking behind him before stopping. "Oh yeah, I was supposed to be checking out books today."


    Charles pointed at the library, its lights dark with no shadows moving behind the black tinted windows. "It''s closed today. The old volunteer left and the new one only comes on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays."


    "When did all of this happen?"


    He shrugged. "Things just happen, I guess. You excited for stone picking?"


    "So excited," I said, both mockingly and sarcastically. Charles punched me in the shoulder, and I feigned hurt.


    "Might as well add battery to your post-apocalyptic criminal record."


    He smiled and started walking away from me as I trailed behind him. "We''re not actually going to your old house. Right?"


    "We actually are," he replied and turned back to me, pausing for a second. "Now, let''s go."


    So we began walking towards his old house, the air deathly still except for our words and the occasional crunch of leaves underneath our footsteps. There was this buzz in the air, not from an oncoming lightning storm or from the glow of the halogen street lights, but the electricity keeping our hearts beating and voices alive.


    Sorry if that was too poetic. I guess I''ve just been dreaming about lights and the internet and TV and everything that comes with electricity. Even after two months of no power, I still haven''t gotten used to this new reality.


    When I got to his old house''s backyard and stared at the river, there was just something wrong about it. The skeletal oak tree, the tire swing coated with ash, the shrubs and grasses by the creek wilted and dead, the edges of the river rimmed with ash. I could feel the memory of the warm summer evening and the stars sprawled across the sky crumble through my fingers like dust, and I nearly shut my eyes to stop it from happening.


    "The river looks..." He paused and sighed. "Sad."


    "More than sad. It looks like the death of everything," I wanted to say, but the best I could muster up was, "Yeah."


    "Hopefully, we''ll find something cool," he replied and pointed at the sky. "You know what people say: You can only find a silver lining on a cloudy day. Literally."


    "That was so cheesy," I said, smiling a bit. "That was like Leon-level cheesy."


    "Well then he must''ve had good taste."


    We walked down the slope and sat on the rocks on the banks of the creek, looking through the pebbles lining the outer rim of the stream. Charles grabbed a pebble off the ground and examined it. "These pebbles suck. They''re all grey."


    "Maybe it''s the ash," I replied. "Try washing them in the river."


    Charles walked up to the slow-moving creek and dipped with pebble in there with his fingers. "The water''s freezing."


    "Obviously," I replied back. "It''s like forty degrees right now."


    "I wonder when everything''s going to freeze over," Charles said and picked up the pebble from the water, gazing at it. "It''s going to be so weird seeing everything covered with snow."


    "Did the water make it better?"


    "No," he replied. "It''s still gray."


    He threw it into the stream, and it dropped with a ripple. I stood up and began to scour the riverbanks for cooler stones. "You know what we really need? One of those rock polishers."


    "Honestly, yeah," he replied, picking up another stone. "Hey, I found a yellow-ish one."


    I stooped down and picked up a random stone before turning and standing. "And I found a..."


    I looked at the rock. It was probably the dullest gray-brown pebble in the world, and there was nothing positive to say about it.


    "A brown one," he replied, cutting me off. "I think my yellow one wins my default."


    He held his stone in front of me. It was bright yellow, like the color of egg yolk or the sun.


    "Did you paint the stone?" I asked, trying to prove him wrong, whatever that meant.


    "Nope," he replied. "A real, authentic yellow colored stone."


    "Let me see it closer," I said, and he closed his fist around the stone.


    "Nope," he said, smiling and putting the stone in his pocket. "You know what we should do. Let''s see who can find the best stones. Ten minutes to find ten pebbles. Winner gets bragging rights."


    "Let''s do this."


    "Game on," he replied and stooped over to search for small pebbles.


    I went the opposite direction and scoured the floor for pops of red or orange or any other color but gray and grayish brown. Picking up a stone, I brushed off the dust from the faded pink rock and dipped it in the river water to brighten the colors. My fingers numb, I pulled out the rock and saw the sharpened pink glow. I pocketed the stone and scoured the ground for the next one.


    I spent the next ten minutes collecting a variety of pebbles, light red ones, orange rust-tinted ones, dull malachite turquoise ones, spotted ones while searching for the crown jewel for my collection. Every minute or so, Charles would shout out, "Wow! Look at what I found. There''s no way that you''re going to beat this." or "Prepare to get demolished," to which I''d shout back, "Whatever you say."


    In the dead brush, I saw a flash of turquoise. It was a weathered piece of glass, edges dull and color gray-ish from the ash. After washing it in the river, the turquoise shone bright blue. That was my winning stone.


    "You ready?" I asked him.


    "Always," he replied. "Let''s do this."

 Chapter 15, Part 4

    pebbles, and a couple of rust and tan colored ones along with his aforementioned yellow stone.


    "What is this?" he said and held up my rust-colored stone. "It just looks like any other stone."


    "Well I could say the same about your orange stones."


    "Fine," he replied. "Also, why do you only have nine pebbles out?"


    I reached into my pocket and pulled out the turquoise piece of glass. His eyes widened just for a second before his eyebrows furrowed. "That''s not a stone," he replied. "It''s glass. Isn''t it?"


    "Who cares?"


    "That''s cheating," he said. "I think I win by default."


    "It''s not like your yellow stone is any better," I replied, picking it up. "It''s literally painted. I can see the paint flaking off of it."


    He sighed with a small smile. "I guess we''re both eliminated for cheating."


    "Double elimination," I said, softly kicking a piece of gravel as it rolled down towards the creek.


    Charles lifted up his fingers to his mouth and blew on them. "Your hands cold?" I asked.


    "Yeah," he replied, his cheeks rosy as he rubbed his hands together. "Put them in the water too long trying to wash the pebbles off. Probably a bad move in hindsight since both of us lost."


    I reached into my backpack and pulled out the multicolored hand towels buried inside it. "Just wrap it around your hand. It''ll probably be like a glove."


    "Thanks," he said and shivered a bit while he wrapped the towel around his probably numb fingers. "But the real question is why do you have towels in your backpack?"


    "It''s a long story."


    "We''ve got a lot of time."


    "It''s not that important," I replied as the bare branches of the oak tree rattled with the soft whistle of the wind.


    Charles turned towards me. "Can I see the turquoise glass again?"


    "Sure," I said and pulled it out of my pocket. "It''s pretty, isn''t it?"


    "If only we could just spray the sky with this shade of blue."


    "That would be amazing," I replied. "And maybe the monarchs and the birds will come back too. I can''t believe I''m saying this, but I''m missing all those seagulls¡ª"


    "Screw seagulls," he said, cutting me off. "I hope they never return."


    "Are you still salty about that time that the one seagull pooped on your head?" I replied. "Wasn''t that in, like, fourth grade?"


    "Fifth," he replied. "God, that was embarrassing."


    "It was hilarious. Especially when you had to go up to the PE teacher, I forgot her name, and tell her that you had to go to the bathroom because a bird pooped on your head," I replied, chuckling a bit at the memory. "I think the whole class was¡ª"


    "Let''s put the stones in," he said, quickly changing the subject, his face probably red from the mixture of embarrassment and the creeping cold.


    "Changing the subject, I see," I replied. "It was pretty funny though."


    There was an awkward silence. There was a splash in the river and both of our eyes darted forwards to gaze at the river. "Do you think that was a fish?" he asked.


    "Maybe," I replied. "Or it could just be a pebble."


    "Speaking of pebbles, how do you want to arrange the pebbles in the jar? I was thinking of making layers."


    "That''s cool," I replied. "Kinda like the Grand Canyon."


    "That would make such a cool ad," he said, putting his arms in front of him. "Buy your own Grand Canyon in a jar."


    He continued, "It would certainly be a very jarring ad for many people. See what I did there."


    I sighed while chuckling softly. "You really need to work on your pun game."


    "If you laughed, I''m considering it a success."


    ''Whatever," I said and grabbed the small jar. "Maybe we can arrange it in a rainbow or something."


    "What about the black stones?" he asked.


    "Put them on the bottom," I replied. "And then go with the reddish-pinkish stones, then the orange-rust stones, then the tan colored stones and so on."


    "How much time do you have left, you know, because of your parents?"


    I had completely forgotten about that. "We probably have twenty minutes or so. I wouldn''t worry."


    We started putting the stones into the jar. Black and spotted ones on the bottom, followed by a couple of reddish pink pebbles on top. We had a ton of tan-orange stones (like eight or so in total), so that layer was really thick. After that, came the yellow-ish colored stone and his bright yellow painted pebble and then the malachite and dark blue stones.


    "You should keep the turquoise glass," he replied. "Just think of it as an early birthday gift."


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "January is, like, five months away from now," I replied.


    "Who knows what''s going to happen between now and January," he said. "Maybe there''s going to be an alien invasion. Who knows? It''s the apocalypse."


    I knew that he was playing that off as a joke, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness there, and I knew what he meant when it was an early birthday gift just in case he or I don''t, you know, make it till January.


    "You should keep it," I replied. "Just think of it as an early birthday present for April."


    "Regifting your birthday present already," he said with a small smile. "Wow. That hurt. But actually, just keep it for yourself."


    "You sure?"


    "Yeah," he replied. "Anyways, we have to leave soon."


    "We should probably get going," I replied. "Mom might kill me today. I''ll gift you the stone in my will."


    "Sounds like a deal."


    He picked up the jar and placed it in his bag before we began walking toward his house. As we were walking under the sycamore trees, the wind gusted through the streets, and for a second, I thought that an ash storm had begun. But the flakes of ash, drifting like snow in front of me, were just from the ash-caked trees above me, and I breathed a sigh of relief.


    A couple of minutes before we reached his neighborhood, he asked, "How many days do you think we have until our first snow?"


    "A month, maybe," I replied. "Probably two though since we never get rain in September. Why?"


    "It would just be so weird seeing our neighborhood covered in snow."


    "Yeah," I replied. "But I mean we''d finally have a White Christmas with actual snow instead of muddy puddles on the ground. That''d be pretty cool."


    "Cool," Charles said. "I see your pun."


    "That was not intentional."


    He ignored me. "You have learned well, young padawan."


    I sighed and shook my head with a small smile on your face. "Is your family, you know, ready for winter?"


    "Yeah, yeah," Charles said, but it didn''t sound convincing. "I''ve been helping with wood gathering and stuff like that."


    I was going to press more, but when I turned the corner and entered his neighborhood, I noticed shattered glass windows on the closest house.


    "Geez. What happened there?" I asked and pointed towards the house.


    "Where?"


    "There, at the house," I replied. "The window is completely smashed."


    "Oh, wow," Charles said. "I never even noticed."


    "Are there, like, looters in your neighborhood? Is your family safe?"


    "We''re fine," he said. "I think it might''ve been from a few weeks back. I remember that there was one of those food riots that swept through our neighborhood and destroyed some houses, but right now, we''re fine."


    "Okay," I said, but there was something wrong happening. I just don''t know what.


    "Anyways, you should probably get going," he replied. "I can head back down."


    "Are you sure?"


    "My house is a dozen houses down the street. I''m not going to get abducted or anything. Also, before I forget," he replied and put down his bag, taking out a garlic head. "I think you asked me to get this last week."


    "Yeah, I''d completely forgotten about that. Thanks," I said and waved. "Bye."


    "Bye," he replied and walked to his house while I walked away towards the Hunters'' house to finish executing May''s plan.


    When I reached their house, my hands were shaking, and my heart was pounding. The key trembled in my hand, and I nearly dropped it because I was just so nervous about everything, but I managed to unlock the door and make it to the basement and find the axe, which we placed near the doorway.


    I was just about to leave the basement area when I decided to go grab the solar panel that May placed close to the garage door for Mom and Dad. They could probably do something with the solar panels for the garage greenhouse even though the solar panels barely work. But when I headed up into the light, I realized that there was a big problem:


    The axe''s handle had a carved in name to it, reading "Hunters." If Dad or Mom saw that the axe handle had this on it, May and I''s lie would crumble, and they''d figure out everything almost immediately, so I had to do something about this.


    I opened all the cabinets, though most of them were empty, trying to find something to cover up the name on the axe handle. But luckily, I caught a break. There was one cabinet that May, and I didn''t check when we first came here, the one hugging the ceiling above the microwave, and when I flung the cabinet doors open, I found some old kitchen appliances and art supplies. And in the art supplies bin, there conveniently was a roll of duct tape.


    So I wrapped the duct tape around the handle at least ten times, covering the name up under layers and layers of tape so that May and I''s secret would stay that way, and there would be no chance that Mom and Dad found out. After I finished, I put the tape back, grabbed the axe and solar panel, and left the house, basically speed walking home. I probably went way over the hour time limit.


    When I opened the door, I saw Mom staring at me. "You were gone for more than an hour."


    "No I wasn''t," I denied. "I was probably on the longer end of an hour but not over it."


    "Where''d you get the axe?" Mom asked as Dad came to talk to her before seeing my axe.


    "What are you doing with the axe?" he asked.


    "I brought it back," I replied. "For you guys."


    "But where did it come from?" Mom asked. "Did Charles give it to you or..."


    "I got it from the garden where Charles and I worked for that summer job," I replied with my prepared lie (even saying it now sounds weird).


    "What were you guys doing with axes?" Dad asked. "Seems pretty dangerous."


    "Dad, using an axe is basically like using a knife," I responded. "Anyways, Charles and I never used the axes anyways. We were always on the dandelion and grass weeding duty, but the axes were used for cutting down shrubs when we were expanding the garden since, you know, you can''t really pull out shrubs."


    "But how''d you exactly get it?" Mom asked.


    I never really thought that much ahead in my lie, so I quickly made something up.


    "Charles had the key to the shed and there were two axes left in there, so we just split them up, one for me and one for him, you know," I said. "Why are you guys asking so much anyways? I got lucky today, so just take it."


    "And the solar panels?"


    "From the garden too," I replied, getting them back onto my story of lies, hoping that they stopped asking follow-ups.


    "What would you be doing with solar panels in the garden?" Dad asked.


    What would solar panels be used for in gardens? At that moment, I didn''t know, and my heart was about to explode from the adrenaline in my blood and pulsing in my head, so I tried my best to stall. "What''s with all these questions?"


    "This is the last one," Dad said, "We just want to make sure that you got these supplies, you know, in a safe and legal manner."


    "So you guys thought I stole it?"


    "No," Mom said. "It''s just that with everything that''s happening, sometimes people bend the rules a bit."


    By then, I had scrambled together a lie. "Well, to make you guys feel better, the solar panel was used for the garden''s watering system, to power it. Most of them were taken when the volcanoes started to erupt, but Charles and I found some in the shed."


    "A watering system?" Dad said. "You mind taking me to the garden to see how it works. That seems very interesting."


    "It''s dead," I replied. "The earthquakes damaged it, and the volcano ash basically destroyed it. It''s basically not there anymore."


    I continued, "I''m just going to leave these two things here for guys here to do what you want because I need to shower."


    I walked away from the door and to the bathroom, my body covered in nervous sweat.


    "Don''t waste too much water," Mom shouted at me.


    As I got my clothes out for showering, I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Did the plan work?"


    "Yeah," I said to May. "I think they believed it."


    "Good," she replied. "Hopefully, Dad ditches the small axe, so we can get more wood for less lung cancer."


    "Yeah, hopefully," I said and turned and headed into the shower.


    Nothing much interesting happened after my shower. Dinner was the same-old canned food as Mom and Dad figured out what to do with the solar panel and the extra axe, but both were talking about it with a spark of hope, like everything won''t keep getting worse. And oddly enough, I started feeling like that, feeling strangely optimistic about today and the day after and many days after. It''s weird what a hunk of metal on a stick and a board of wires and semiconductors makes you feel. Hope certainly comes in a variety of forms.

 Chapter 15, Part 5

    August 17


    Mom nearly forgot about the school board meeting. I think everyone basically forgot it. The only things we all remember are wood gathering day on Monday and food gathering day on Saturday. Every other day in the week blurs together and stretches out.


    When Mom came back, she seemed angry and sad, kicking off previously tight boots all too easily. Dad came up to the doorway, looking a bit concerned. "What happened?"


    She scoffed. "Nothing. Those people couldn''t even answer anything."


    "Did they say anything about school re-opening?"


    "They said that the textbook distribution was just a ''right now'' measure until they''re able to come up with a final plan," Mom replied. "But they should have something down now. They''ve had all summer to figure out a plan."


    "What about the school library?"


    Mom sighed, rubbing her forehead. "They''re still figuring that out like they''re figuring out everything else. But I doubt that the library''s staying open."


    "Why?"


    "I walked past the school today," she replied.


    "Isn''t it far¡ª"


    "It''s only a couple of minutes detour," she said, cutting him off. "The city is dismantling the solar panels above the parking lots. I didn''t get a chance to ask about it since I only saw it on the way back."


    "Okay," Dad said and looked down. "So what are we going to do about Neal and May''s school and learning?"


    She put her hands up and shrugged. "I don''t know. Make them read the textbooks? Thinking about it now, I don''t even know why we checked out the textbooks. It sounded like a good idea but now It just seems pointless."


    "It''s not. It''s not," Dad replied. "I don''t know. Maybe we can figure something out. We will figure something out."


    "I just wish that they''d have a chance to just feel a sense of normalcy, like everything that''s happening now isn''t happening, at least just for a couple of hours."


    "I don''t think we can," Dad replied. "It''s just¡ª There''s just too much happening around us that''s just too hard to ignore."


    "I know. I just feel like I''ve failed them," Mom said with a long sigh, and there was an awkward silence between them that hung there for what felt like longer than a second.


    "Oh, Neal. I didn''t notice you were there," Dad said, turning towards me. "What do you need?"


    I made something up on the fly. "I was going to grab something, but I guess I''ll leave you two in peace."


    "Actually, can you grab something for me," Dad said. "I''m sick of eating canned food every day, and I remember seeing a dhokla package¡ª"


    "No, not dhokla," I said. "I''d rather eat canned food."


    "Nope, we''re eating dhokla today," he said. "Go get Mira and May and get working on a batch. The instructions are on the back of the package. I think we deserve something fresh today."


    "Fine," I said, grumbling.


    I went to our room and poked May on the shoulder. "Guess what we''re eating for dinner?"


    "What?" she said, mindlessly spinning in circles on the swivel chair. "Canned corn instead of canned beans?"


    "Nope," I said. "We''re eating your favorite dhokla."


    "Ugh," she said. "Was this Dad''s idea?"


    "Yep," I said. "We have to make it. Dad''s orders."


    After I grabbed Mira who was reading one of the books that I checked out from the library ages ago, we rummaged through the pantry and found the package of dhokla mix near the back, covered in a thin layer of dust.


    "Is that even edible?" May asked.


    I shrugged and handed her the package as she took it reluctantly. Making it really wasn''t that hard, probably because it was one of those instant mixes, as I mixed around two cups of water with the package while May poured water in the steamer and greased the steaming plates. Mira opened up a can of tomato sauce (because we didn''t have any ketchup) and mixed some masala with oil for Mom and Dad because that''s what they liked.


    Everything felt oddly normal at that moment, all of us just talking about random stuff and complaining about cooking and making sure to keep track of time and not overcook the food. It''s weird how this whole week has been crazy, careening from May''s absurd plans to just standing around as the smell of food wafted around us. Even though dhokla wasn''t my favorite food, my mouth was watering as I opened the steamer with my oven mitts, taking out the mix, now puffy from steaming, and letting it cool.


    After they had all cooled and Mira had cut them, all of us, including Grandma and Grandpa too, sat at the dining table. There were only enough for eight one inch by one-inch sized squares per person, and Mom and Dad both gave May and I two squares. When I tried to give it back, Mom said, "I''m not that hungry today."


    "Same here," Dad said and patted his stomach. "Still got to burn off these college calories."


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "And plus, you''ll need energy for tomorrow," Mom said. "Since everyone seems to be doing well, we''re going to be doing wood gathering again."


    "Ugh," May said, though she probably only half meant it.


    "Wood doesn''t gather itself," Mom said. "So eat up and get ready."


    There was a small lull in the conversation before Dad cleared his throat and spoke up. "The dhokla tastes good."


    "Better than average, I guess," I said. It was about the only truthful thing I said this week, but there was something nice about it. Maybe it was because the texture was softer than what I remembered or maybe it was because of the sensation of fresh, warm food on my tongue or maybe it was the clenching of my stomach from the hunger pangs, but whatever it was, it tasted good.


    "So it tastes great," Dad said. "Since okay for you means good, so better than okay means that it must be great."


    "Whatever you say, Dad," I said and put another piece into my mouth.


    "We should do this more often," Dad said. "It''s nice to sit here and eat food together."


    "Maybe my parents can make something next week. I don''t think we can do this every day, but weekly sounds good," Mom said and asked Grandma and Grandpa something that loosely translated to "What do you want to make for food tomorrow?" or something similar to that. My Chinese skills have clearly deteriorated after stopping lessons in middle school.


    They said something in Chinese back to Mom about pork and cabbage and Mom asked something about vegetables, probably since Dad is a vegetarian. Mom turned back to the rest of us and said, "They''ll look into the pantry and see what they can make."


    "Maybe I can start pulling out some of the old cookbooks from the bookshelf to see what we can make using the cans," Dad replied.


    "Staring at cookbooks is probably not the best idea," May added. "I''d get so hungry looking at all the pasta and pizza and all the other food."


    "I''ll be fine," Dad said and he paused for a second before saying, "Maybe we should start a new tradition."


    "Where did that come from?" May asked.


    Dad ignored her. "I think it would be a good idea to have dinner together, at least every week, and talk about something that we''re grateful for¡ª"


    "No," May replied immediately, cutting him off mid-sentence. "That''s so cringe-y. It''s literally so cliche."


    "I think it''d be good," Dad said.


    It really was a cheesy idea, and I said, "I kinda agree with May. It sounds really cheesy, and we know what everyone''s going to say."


    "And what are they going to say?"


    "Family, food, being alive, water, that kind of stuff," I said before quickly clarifying. "It''s not that I''m not grateful for all of those, it''s just that it doesn''t really add anything new, you know, like we''re all grateful for those too."


    "Exactly," May said. "Listen to Neal. And plus, every single time a family does this in an apocalypse movie someone dies, and I think I''d prefer not to inherit the gratitude curse."


    "Also, we should save this for Thanksgiving," May added. "If you really want to do it, make it a one-time event."


    There was a brief lull in the conversation, and May was about to put her dishes in the sink and leave when Mira said, "I''ll go first."


    No one really said anything for a couple of moments. I think May was going to snark something back, but she held it back. Dad turned to Mira. "Great! We have our first volunteer."


    Mira made a small smile and began speaking. "One thing that I''m grateful about is just all of your support over the past week and a half since¡ª" she said, pausing before taking a deep breath and continuing. "Since Leon left and just helping me work through everything that I''m feeling."


    "I''ll go next," Mom said. "I''m grateful for the axe and solar panel Neal brought back yesterday. Sometimes the world just gives us lucky breaks, and I sure as hell need one."


    Dad laughed a little before saying, "Well I''m just grateful for this hot meal in front of me and for my kids for making them. I know we''ve had our disagreements¡ª"


    "That''s putting it lightly," May muttered.


    "But I''m so proud of you guys, and I know we''re going to make it. We have to."


    He tried to sound confident with the last part, but I think everyone could hear the little tinge of doubt in his voice, one that he unsuccessfully tried remedying with confidence, that dampened all of our moods. There was an awkward silence.


    Mom turned towards both of us. "What about you guys? Neal, you want to start first?"


    The odd thing was that the first thing that popped into my mind was the Mooncrash. I know I wish that everything could just go back to normal, so that everyone, Mom, Dad, Charles and his family, wouldn''t need to worry about starving or gathering enough wood to survive the oncoming winter or the tides of the end of the world really.


    We would all just be living our lives out perfectly happy and normal: Mom and Dad saving up for retirement while discussing vacation plans to Hawaii, Grandma and Grandpa gardening and talking with their church friends, May going to parties and hanging out with her friends in boba cafes, Mira and Leon being together, married and joyful, a grand future ahead of them, and me just making it through school, one day at a time, until it was time to face college.


    But at the same time, things have gotten better. Mira and Dad haven''t fought in quite some time, something unthinkable for me in April when they were barely on speaking terms, and my only friendship has gotten better, you know, from when I thought that everything was drifting apart. And I guess I wonder if things would''ve ever gotten better if everything didn''t happen, and I guess I''m just grateful that things did get better, even if I wish the Mooncrash didn''t have to intrinsically come with them.


    But it was too hard to say in words, and even reading over what I just wrote, I can''t seem to capture all my jumbled thoughts right, so I just went with something generic. "I''m grateful for all of you guys too."


    "Maybe something a bit more specific?" Dad implored, but I shrugged my shoulders.


    Dad towards May. "You have something to say?"


    She crossed her arms. "Fine. I conform to your peer pressure. I''m grateful that I''m not dead."


    "Thanks to everyone for doing this," Dad said, stacking everyone''s plates.


    "That was so syrupy," May said. "Like disgustingly sappy."


    "Well we got to add a little syrup to a bad situation to make it sweeter."


    "Please kill me," she said. "I think I''m going to die."


    Dad smiled a bit and said to everyone. "C''mon, time to sleep early. A long day ahead of us tomorrow."


    Mira and Mom both yawned and stood up, walking towards the bathroom as Dad went into his bedroom, leaving May and I as the only people in the living room. She turned towards me. "Mom and Dad tried brushing off eating less."


    "I know."


    "Are we going to make it?"


    "I don''t know," I replied, trying to muster as much positivity as I could. "But I know we''re going to make it till tomorrow. So just try to be positive."


    "Do you actually believe that though?"


    "Does it matter?" I said before adding. "I read about that time when they did an experiment and fake smiling actually¡ª"


    "Goodbye," May said and walked away.


    "What?" I said. "It was an interesting study."


    "I think I''d fall asleep on the couch by the time you finished," she replied. "And plus, you know what Dad said about waking up early tomorrow."


    So she left, leaving me alone. And for some reason, I started thinking about that day Charles and I went to the creek when the air was fluttering with summer warmth and closeness, his arm guiding mine over the sprawling night sky during that weird time in between, after the worst of the tides but before the volcanic eruptions. There was something precious about it, no fears about the college, no fears about surviving the next day, just living in that moment.


    I know it''s pointless to think about a past that would never happen again, and maybe I''m over exaggerating the moment, gold-washing that memory to bring myself hope right now, but there''s something about that memory that''s irresistible that I can''t stop replaying over and over in my head.


    I wonder if there''s more to that memory than what I''m writing out.

 Chapter 16, Part 1

    August 18


    I was kissing a guy in my dreams.


    Or at least I think I was. The memory is a bit of a blur, like pretty much every non-nightmare dream, the golden tones smearing the dream. But I do remember that we were in a bright green field overflowing with vivid flowers, glowing oranges and pinks and turquoise. I remember my hand brushing a bit of scruff and I remember our faces being close to each other and that there was this warmness surrounding me.


    And then I woke up. Or more specifically Dad woke me up with a shake of my shoulder. The cozy warmness shifted to a coolness and the saturated colors dominating my dreams faded to muted grays.


    While I was layering up in thick socks and extra sweaters, I thought a lot about the dream. I know people have all kinds of weird dreams where they do weird things, and when they wake up, they acknowledge the reality of their dream and move on with reality. Hell, I''ve had dreams where I was running away from May, armed with throwing knives and trying to kill me, but when I wake up from that nightmare, I know that May doesn''t want to kill me (Or at least I hope so).


    But there was something different about this dream. There was no lingering wrongness about the dream, when you know you''ve crossed the line between fantasy and reality. If anything, it felt oddly right and almost surreally beautiful, if that makes sense.


    Actually, reading over what I just wrote, I don''t think what I just said made any sense. I don''t even know why I''m spending so much time writing about this dream anyways. The memory of it will probably fade away in a few days.


    Mom left Grandpa and Grandma to guard the house, but I think we all knew that if anyone tried to ransack our house, there wouldn''t be anything that Grandpa and Grandma would be able to do. But we didn''t really have much of an option and we trudged through the streets dusted with ash, shivering ever so slightly as our wagon creaked behind us. Dad turned to Mom.


    "We need to start doing wood gathering at least two times a week," Dad said. "The weather. It''s getting much colder than I expected."


    Mom sighed. "We''ve¡ª"


    "I know we''ve already talked about this, but circumstances have¡ª" Dad said, before a fit of coughing cut him off.


    "See," Mom said. "We shouldn''t be spending much time out anyways. Lung cancer will kill us long before starvation or the cold."


    "That wasn''t from the ash," Dad said. "It was just autumn allergies."


    "From what plants," Mom said and pointed around at all of the bare trees, branches hanging out like skeleton fingers, lining the streets. "Everything around us is dead."


    "It''s from the dust," Dad quickly replied before pivoting. "And going by what you said, we don''t want to join them."


    "And going by what I said before, we''ll join them long before the cold kills us."


    May stepped in between them. "I swear I''ve heard this argument a hundred billion times already, and now it''s just getting boring hearing you two argue the same old crap over and over again. Just find some compromise and move on."


    "Maybe have rotating axe shifts," Mira said. "Dad can cut one tree, then Mom, and then me¡ª"


    "No," Mom said. "Only Dad and I do the axe rotating shifts¡ª"


    "Why?" she protested. "I can help¡ª"


    "I don''t want any of my kids risking their lives cutting wood and breathing in all that ash. Let your father and I handle this."


    "I know the risks, and I want to help," Mira replied. "I''m an adult anyways. I''m perfectly¡ª"


    "And we''re your parents," Dad said. "And I agree with your Mom. No more axe cutting shifts anymore for all three of you."


    Mira stopped walking and faced Dad. "I can¡ª"


    "No one''s saying that you''re not capable," Mom said. "We don''t want you to get hurt, or worse, get really sick in the future, that''s all."


    Mira opened her mouth, and I could nearly sense the retort that was coming out from her mouth, the unsaid thought that had crossed every one of our minds at least one: What future is there even to look forwards too with the never-ending volcanic eruptions and ash storms that threaten to bury us six feet under a layer of gray?


    "Okay, great," Mom said, taking Mira''s non-answer as a sign of agreement. "What about you two?"


    May shrugged. "Fine. Whatever."


    Mom then suddenly turned to Dad. "What did you mean by ''anymore''?"


    There was an awkward silence. I think Dad was referring to that time with Leon when I spent about ten minutes struggling to chop even a small notch into the tree.


    "It was for only two minutes," I lied, hoping that downplaying the number would downplay Mom''s worries. "And it was all the way back when the ash wasn''t all that bad."


    "Well, no more," Mom said.


    "Works for me," I replied.


    "Also," Dad said. "We may need to make some changes in our house."


    "What do you mean?" I asked.


    "We''ll have to start moving all the mattresses and comforters to the living room sometime soon," Dad replied.


    "What?" Mira, May, and I all exclaimed at the same time, and May added, "I first lose having my own room, and now I lose my room completely. That''s so unfair."


    While May complained for a bit longer about losing her privacy and how her life is going to fall apart if we all moved to the living room, my mind went straight to the pantry of cans. With everyone eating, breathing, and sleeping in the living room, right adjacent to the pantry of cans, there''s no way I''m going to sneak out enough to help Charles and his family. Mom and Dad will always be keeping a close eye on the food, along with Mira and May and Grandma and Grandpa.


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    "But why?" I asked Dad.


    "Well if you guys would let me explain and stop complaining for a second, I would," Dad said.


    May shut up, leaving Dad''s hoarse voice and the creak of the wagon filled with rustling canvas bags as the only sounds.


    "Natural gas is going to be shutting down soon," Dad said before Mira cut him off.


    "How do you know?" she asked. "There''s been no announcement, nothing¡ª"


    "They''d never announce it," Dad said. "No one would agree to it, and there''d be hoarders siphoning natural gas or people threatening to burn down city hall if the natural gas was projected to be shut off. A quick, quiet shut off will cause protests, but everyone in leadership would be long gone or they''d be able to say they kept it on for as long as possible."


    "But what I know is this. The cold will set in, and winter will be bad," Dad warned. "I''ve been keeping the heater on low the past week or so, but without the heater, the nights are going to be freezing. So we''re all going to have to move to the living room because we''ve got the fireplace there."


    "But what about the laundry?" May asked. "Where are we going to dry the clothes? I don''t want to be sleeping in a puddle of soapy, gross water."


    "We''ll figure that out later," Dad said.


    "Don''t we have a heater in the garage?" I asked, desperate to try and stop Dad from making this happen. "Why don''t we just charge the heaters using the solar panels?"


    "That''s what your Mom and I are doing," Dad replied. "But the panels barely get three watts an hour, not even close to being able to power the heaters on the long term. And we''ve still got the issue of lighting up the greenhouse¡ª"


    "How is the greenhouse doing?" May asked. "You guys have been working on it forever."


    "We''ve..." Dad said, his words trailing a bit. "Hit a couple of roadblocks."


    "It''s pitch-dark in the garage," Mom said. "I''m not even sure why we were trying to build a greenhouse down there, so we''re moving our set-up to the living room tomorrow to take advantage of the natural light and figure out the lighting system."


    "What about the solar panels on the ro¡ª" Mira said before being cut off by Dad.


    "I don''t know how to remove and disconnect the solar panels from the roof," Dad replied. "I''d need a mound of textbooks. Anything salvageable would probably be destroyed by the ash anyways. The panels on the roof are dead. Completely useless."


    "What about scavenging for solar panels?" I asked and May shot me a warning glance. "In other¡ª"


    "No," Mom and Dad said at the same time. They looked at each other and smiled a bit. For some odd reason, they were finding a sense of unity by tearing down our ideas.


    "We''re not stealing," Mom replied. "Don''t even think about it."


    "And what''s with all the what ifs," Dad replied. "We''re moving when the natural gas shuts off no matter what."


    I breathed a sigh of relief. Now I can only pray that the natural gas won''t shut off. If there even exists a God, hopefully, they will understand and make sure that doesn''t happen, at least for now.


    We stopped in front of the forest, gazing at the ash covered stumps of the sycamore trees, a skeleton forest holding up the dark gray sky with its spindly, bone-colored branches. Hopefully, that''ll be long enough for us to get our wood and leave before the ash storms start again.


    We split up, Mom and Dad to the nearest tree, Mira, May, and I deep into the dark forest (by deep, I mean about 10 meters away from Mom, with her hawk-like eyes watching us) to gather the kindling, bending down to pick up branches and twigs every couple of steps and dump them into our canvas bags.


    "I''ve got an idea," Mira said, suddenly appearing next to me. "To solve Mom and Dad''s greenhouse problem."


    "The lighting or the heating problem?" I asked.


    ''The lighting one," Mira said and outstretched her arms around us. "If, after all this work, the heating problem isn''t solved, Mom and Dad are going to be in serious trouble."


    "Deathly serious," I said before quickly adding. "Was that too dark?"


    "Probably," Mira said with a sigh. "It''s hard not to think about it though."


    "Yeah," I said, my words trailing off and leaving the crunching of fallen leaves and scratching of branches against canvas as the only sounds. "So what is the plan? We kinda got off-track."


    "There are basically two parts to it," Mira said. "You remember the random solar phone chargers, right?"


    "Didn''t we get a whole bunch of them?" I asked. "What happened to them anyways?"


    "Probably disappeared when Grandma and Grandpa organized the whole house or maybe Mom and Dad stored it away when they thought that the solar panels weren''t working? I''m not sure," she replied, picking up another branch from the ground before continuing. "I was thinking that we could use that to charge all of our phones."


    "How does that help?" I asked, genuinely confused. Maybe she was high or maybe this was her anger-planning. "What use is charging phones?"


    "Well It''s not so much the phone as it is for the phone''s flashlight," Mira said. "Since we can''t charge the small batteries that we have since the big solar panels are being used for the heaters, the only flashlight we''ve got that we can use are our phones."


    "That''s... actually really smart," I said. "Is this what college education does for people?"


    She chuckled a bit and shook her head.


    "More like waking up in the pitch-dark this morning and trying to grab my phone for its flashlight only to realize that I hadn''t used my phone in months," she replied and then sighed. "Old habits do die hard."


    "Yeah," I said, both our words trailing off before I continued. "But how exactly are we going to get enough light for the plants, especially since the phone flashlights aren''t super strong."


    "This is the fishier part of my plan," she said. "Mostly because I don''t know much about this, but I think we should use mirrors and point them inwards to the plants to reflect any light that is being wasted."


    "The question is how are we going to position the mirrors," I said. "To make them reflect light properly."


    "The library might have some information," Mira said. "We should go sometime next week, maybe Monday or Tuesday."


    "I can''t go on Tuesday, just because Charles and I have a thing planned," I replied. "Why don''t you just ask Mom and Dad first?"


    "I don''t know," she said and looked down, not to pick up branches but to kick a stone. "It''s just that they never listen to me."


    "I mean they listened to you last night¡ª"


    "But that was when I was agreeing with them," she replied. "And it''s like they''re always treating me like I''m a little kid, and I thought I was making progress, but I''m just not. It''s like I took a step up the mountain yesterday and then got buried by an avalanche today."


    "Mom and Dad are just worried," I said. "And they care, a lot, and sometimes in the wrong way, you know."


    "But then why don''t they care about what I say?"


    "Who cares about what other people think?" I said. "I mean you''ve literally done so many daring things that I wouldn''t even have the confidence to even think about doing."


    "But I hate that I do care," she said.


    She sighed and stuffed a couple of twigs in her bag. "Remember that ugly fight Mom and Dad and I had back in April?"


    "Yeah," I said. "It was about the blue hair, wasn''t it?"


    "It''s weird how we were all just arguing about the stupidest little things," she muttered and then spoke more loudly. "But that night, I dyed my hair black and sat in my room with my finger hovering above my phone screen, almost clicking on Mom and Dad''s number, so that everything could be sorted out ''cause I cared too much about what they thought of me, and it hurt me to disappoint them."


    "But I mean you didn''t call them back," I said and pointed at her hair, red roots growing out. "And you kept to your beliefs."


    "The red was from an anger-dyeing session," she said with a little chuckle, lightening the atmosphere a bit. "Just wanted to go for the angstiest look I could manage to get back at Mom and Dad."


    She continued, "It feels like the only time that I do what I want is when I''m just angry, and I want to change."


    "I guess you have to make a new identity," I said. "Or find a new one or something along those lines where your, I guess self-worth, isn''t tied with Mom and Dad."


    "But how?" she asked. "It''s not like I can go off on a grand adventure and find a new me while battling dragons and zombies."


    "I don''t know," I said. "I guess it''s just something that finds you or maybe you find it or something. I don''t even know what I''m saying anymore. Lit class never taught me any of this."


    She chuckled a bit, and then I chuckled a bit and the woods echoed with our soft laughter. Mira turned to me. "I thought I''d gone past this after I turned eighteen, but twenty-one just feels like a second puberty."


    She picked up a branch and added, "How do you always know the right things to say?"


    "I didn''t really say much," I replied with a shrug. "You mostly did the talking and I just repeated back things. Maybe you''re the one that knows the right things."


    "Maybe. But seriously?" she asked. "Where do you get all this advice stuff from?"


    "Advice columns, I guess?" I replied. "Maybe books? Whatever you''re thinking about just comes to me."


    "Anyways, I should probably go to May," Mira replied and turned the other direction from where I was walking. "Meet you back at Mom and Dad''s tree?"

 Chapter 16, Part 2

    I nodded and waved at her before going back to picking up branches.


    I wish I could come up with a snappy metaphor for twigs (though I suppose a badly placed pun will do). Gazing over the ash-covered landscape, I could imagine the forest in winter, the flakes of ash mixing with snow and ice that will glitter like crushed little stars whenever the sun shines, even if it lasts only a second.


    The rest of the day wasn''t much. Mom and Dad were able to fully chop up four trees in the two hours or so we spent gathering twigs, which was much more than the last few trips combined with the tiny axe. The wagon could only take about a quarter of a tree''s worth of logs per trip though and the bags only could hold a couple chopped up pieces, so we had to make multiple trips back and forth, carrying 10 to 15 pound logs on the five-minute walks back home.


    Mom and Dad took over after the fourth or fifth trip back and forth. "We''ve got this," Mom said after we lugged the logs into the timber corner of the garage, slowly but steadily increasing every week. "You guys go shower."


    "Okay," May said, a little too excitedly. "I call dibs on going first. I think I''m going to get an acne outbreak from all this sweat."


    "I call second," Mira shouted.


    "I guess I''m third," I said and muttered under my breath. "Middle child syndrome."


    Mom and Dad came back after at least an hour or two, after we had all finished showering and the air around the bathroom felt like a little taste of an old Florida summer. Dad fell asleep right away and Mom fell asleep on the couch before she could finish brewing her chamomile tea. Neither of them ate dinner.


    Mira gave them both blankets, and May commented, "They''re not dead, right?"


    All of a sudden, Dad''s snores reverberated through the hallways.


    "I guess not," she said and shrugged. "Should we make them dinner?"


    "Maybe a bigger breakfast tomorrow," Mira said.


    August 19


    Mom and Dad refused to eat breakfast.


    Well Dad did, but only a couple of nibbles, and then gave it back to us.


    "You''re eating all of it," Mira said. "We spent all morning working on it."


    It''s true. May had woken me up too early in the morning with the fluorescent glare of the lamplight, the sky a dark blue-gray color. Mira was with her, and I groaned. "What do you guys need me for?"


    "We''re making fresh bread for Mom and Dad," she said.


    "Then make it yourself," I said and turned in bed. Unlike my brain, any semblance of generosity and selflessness did not wake up the glow of light.


    "We don''t know how to make it without yeast," May said. "That''s why we need you ''cause you''re so smart and cool and know everything."


    "It''s too early for sarcasm."


    "Hurry up." May snatched the comforters off of me and tossed me a jacket. "Let''s do something nice for Mom and Dad."


    Huddling around the stove, May and Mira vigorously mixed the flour and water with a tablespoon or so of powdered milk, just for texture, while I explained, "You know, the whole purpose of the yeast is¡ª"


    "Blah, blah, blah," May said. "Get to the point. We don''t need the whole science background or otherwise, it might take a whole hour."


    "Well the whole point I''m getting to is that yeast makes carbon dioxide, and you know what else makes carbon dioxide, those baking soda and vinegar experiments we did in elementary school."


    "Ew, vinegar is so gross. There''s no way we''re putting it in here."


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    "Do we have any other sour things, stuff like lime or lemon juice?" I asked.


    "We might have used up all the lemonade in the summer," Mira said and reached for the pantry. "It''s vinegar, I guess¡ª"


    "No, wait," May said and rushed into the pantry, digging through some items before pulling out the packets of pink lemonade we had taken from the Hunters'' house. "I remembered finding a couple of these a few weeks back."


    "Weird," Mira said. "I don''t think Mom and Dad have ever let us get pink lemonade ever before¡ª"


    "I think I got some from a birthday party," May lied quickly. "Who doesn''t smuggle food out from parties?"


    Mira furrowed her eyebrows and looked at me. I shrugged and looked at May. Her lie this time was uncharacteristically weak.


    After we mixed together the mixture of pink lemonade powder with some water and baking soda, Mira and May quickly kneaded the dough together to capture the fizzling of that mixture. After waiting for the pan to heat up, I oiled the top with a halo of avocado oil and placed the flatbread on its surface, listening to the sizzles and crackles that remind of the campfires seventh grade camping trips that we took with family-friends.


    The air smelled heavenly, with the slightest tinge of butter, that made even Grandma come out of her room.


    "Good morning," she said, trying to practice her English. "What are you cooking?"


    What was bread in Chinese called? The first thing I thought was "pan," but that''s bread in Spanish, and at that moment, I realized how much Chinese had slipped away from me. I felt like I should know the word, but it just wouldn''t come out.


    Luckily, Mira filled it in. "Mian bao," she said. "Bread."


    They talked a little more as I flipped the flatbread on the pan with my spatula. I tried thinking of all the Chinese words that I could remember how to write. Outside of the basic pronouns, numbers, and extremely basic words ("tian" or field looks just like a window), I barely knew how to spell complex anything in Chinese, the most complex one being "yu" or fish.


    But May snapped me out of my thoughts when she reminded me to make sure that I wasn''t burning the bread, and I quickly flipped it into a plate, the bottom browned well. After serving Grandma and Grandpa, who appeared a couple minutes after she did, Mira gave me a cup of reheated tea and gave May the plate with the bread on it with a drizzle of olive oil and told us to serve Mom.


    But Mom refused.


    "I''m too fat," she said and grabbed her stomach, but there wasn''t a whole lot to grab.


    "Well we''re not going to argue with you," May replied and put the plate on the tabletop next to her. "Eat it or we''re throwing it away."


    And then we left the room.


    "Was that a good mic drop exit?" May asked.


    "Very," I said, and we turned back into the kitchen, making some for ourselves and Dad.


    After some guilting and mind games, Dad eventually began eating the flatbread.


    "This is really good," he said, but I wasn''t sure if it was his taste buds or his hunger-addled mind talking, especially since when I ate one, the flatbread was a bit hard, the dough un-fluffy because of the lack of yeast.


    There wasn''t much else that happened in the morning. Mom went into the kitchen and grabbed an ibuprofen and swigged some cold water before going back to bed to sleep. Dad took a shower and then presumably flopped into bed and fell back asleep. As ash flurries sprayed the windows, Mira, May, and I pulled out a snakes and ladders board, not to socialize but to just push pieces around until the day ended.


    When I went to our room to search through some old magazines to read, I found one with a male model emblazoned on the cover, muscled and shirtless, dripping wet with water. For some reason, I blushed but at the same time, wanted to read more. But if May and Mira walked into the room, that''d get awkward, so I went to the only place with any privacy: the bathroom.


    Locking the door behind me, I sat on the toilet seat, opening the magazine. After flipping through pages of old gossip and ads and Polynesia vacations, I arrived at the pages I was looking for. There was a piece dedicated to their success story, but I didn''t care about the words, just focusing on the images.


    The man posing like one of those Greek sculptures, the man leaning back in a chair, sipping from a coconut, the man putting his hands together, abs glistening in the light, his face dark and brooding. And suddenly, I could feel the rush of emotions, the same weird fluttery nervousness that I felt when I was around Leon for the first time and one that I''ve felt for a long time.


    I''ve always brushed it off as jealousy when those attractive, male characters appeared on TV and movies. With my clunky glasses, acne-scarred face and back, and decidedly un-hunky body, I could never be like them, and despite my resistance to do weightlifting and working out, there was always a part of me that wished I could be them, if that makes any sense. Just wake up one morning and find myself in an attractive body with all the confidence and self-assurance that pretty people have.


    But now I''m wondering if that rush is more than jealousy or just my socially anxious nerves flaring up, but possibly, maybe attraction? I guess, would I want to kiss this person, not just as a weird-dream-addled fantasy, but in actual real life? But before I could even attempt to untangle everything, May knocked on the door and said she needed to use the bathroom, so I flushed the toilet and turned on the water and dumped the magazine in the far corner of our bathroom cabinet. Hopefully, no one else finds it.


    And going back to the last question, given about half a day of reflection, I still don''t know. I guess I''m worried that I''m overthinking this or maybe that if I go with my gut and my heart that I might cross a line that I won''t be able to go back from. It feels wrong to think what I''m feeling should be is forbidden because it shouldn''t be. Maybe some sleep will help me.


    When everyone in middle school said that being a teenager was complicated and confusing, I mocked them.


    I guess they were right after all.

 Chapter 16, Part 3

    August 20


    I think we could all sense that there was something wrong.


    Maybe it was the tenseness in the air around the ash-stained plaza, as families huddled together, dressed in thick scarves and faux fur jackets and bulky ski-jackets, in case the ash storms started again. No one was really talking to each other, everyone focused on themselves or the people closest to them, waiting for the food supply station to open once again.


    "Why is it so quiet?" May asked, a little too loudly, and some people stared at us.


    Mom quickly shushed her. "I don''t know, but we have to stay quiet. I don''t want to attract any unneeded attention."


    "Now, I can''t speak too," May grumbled under her breath. "Literally cannot do anything anymore."


    Dad looked down at his wrist, but there was no watch there, and looked to the sky. "They must be waiting for deliveries. There''s no other reason why we''ve been waiting for over an hour."


    "Maybe we''ll finally get better food," I whispered.


    "Chocolate," May replied. "That''s what I was dreaming about all night."


    "Don''t¡ª" I paused and caught myself before I said that we had a couple bags of M&Ms. Who knew how other people would react?


    "Never mind," I said and continued. "Maybe we might be getting fuel or something."


    "Chocolate is way better," she said. ''What are we even going to do with a bucket of gasoline anyways? It''s not even like our electric car runs on gas. Maybe some of my friends could come back here if they knew that the town was giving out chocolate."


    She sighed. "Hopefully, life gets a little less lonely with chocolate."


    Suddenly, there was a loud static sound coming from the megaphone at the front and everyone stopped what they were doing, eyes swiveling to the front of the plaza. "Sorry for the technical difficulties. The pantry is now officially open."


    An echo of cheer rang out from everyone in the plaza, waiting in the line that curved around the cobblestone floors and fountains dotting the plaza like a meandering river. But all of a sudden, the loud cheers stopped as a rising wave of hushed whispers erupted, and everyone turned back. I looked back at the edge of the plaza, where the stone edges met the dead and dried grass.


    There was a group of six men there, docked dark black masks and odd camouflage clothing. But they weren''t government soldiers, their clothing too casual to be military, and they clutched the long guns dangling from around their necks tight. The two security guards at the entrance, carrying tiny handguns and a bottle of mace spray, looked scared and tense, their hands instinctively at their waists. They just stood at the edge of the plaza (guns were banned on the inside), staring at the undulating crowd.


    Dad swore under his breath. Mom looked at Dad with panicked eyes and whisper-shouted. "We should go. Now!"


    Dad held her wrist. "We have to stick together. And not just us, but all of us¡ª"


    "But if they start firing and the guards start firing, we''re trapped between the bullets," Mom said. "We can''t risk it¡ª"


    "I know," Dad said. "But if we leave, we''ll be more vulnerable. Maybe they''re looters, just looking to pick off stragglers. If we all stick together, we''ll stay as safe as we can be."


    While Mom and Dad whisper-argued over what to do, May poked me and Mira. "What?" Mira asked.


    "I overheard the people next to us," she said. "Apparently there have been rumors about looters going from town to town, ransacking all the food pantries everywhere."


    "You think they are one of them?" Mira asked.


    "Maybe?" she said. "How would I know? If I die today, promise me that you''ll burn me. I really don''t want worms and maggots feasting on my brain."


    "I''m joking by the way if you can''t tell," May added, but it wasn''t all that funny, and I don''t think she even found it funny.


    "If there are looters and raiders, then..." Mira said and her words trailed off. "What about Leon and his family and them¡ª"


    "Don''t worry¡ª" I began before getting cut off.


    "I can''t not worry," she said and began whispering something under her breath. "What if he''s just lying in some ditch somewhere, a gunshot to his chest and his Mom''s chest¡ª"


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    Before Mira could finish her nightmare, Mom shook her shoulder. "If bullets start flying and me and your father don''t make it, take care of Neal and May. Make sure you three get to safety. Ignore us"


    Mira''s eyes crystallized into something sharp, and Dad said, "If they start shooting¡ª"


    "Get down on the ground and lie flat," May replied. "Too many lockdown drills have taught me that."


    "Good," Dad said and corrected himself quickly. "I mean that''s not good, to have to do the lockdown drills, but good that you know."


    "If people start leaving," Mom said to Dad. "We''re leaving too. Just like you said, we''re going to stick with the crowd."


    "Fine by me," Dad said and shivered while rubbing his mittens, looking over his shoulder every few seconds. "We''re going to be alright. They won''t shoot, hopefully."


    The group of men kept standing at the edge of the plaza, holding weapons in their hands that could kill everyone in the plaza many times over. It''s weird how a hunk of metal can have the power of life and death, especially with the hospital probably in dismal condition. No one dared to say anything, and the announcer at the megaphone didn''t speak, either out of fear of retribution or just because the men technically weren''t violating these apocalypse laws, though they were in violation of state open carry laws.


    "Why are they just standing there?" May asked.


    "Scoping the situation," I replied. "Intimidation. Just because they can. Who knows?"


    May squatted down.


    "What are you doing?" Mira asked.


    "Just in case they start shooting. So I can lie down quickly," she said. "I don''t want to die, especially not like this."


    "They can''t risk shooting," Mira replied.


    "Well, it''s pretty obvious that everyone thinks that they will," she said and extended a hand. "You guys should join me. It''s going to be lonely in this hellscape if I''m the only one that survives."


    Despite the snark, there was something genuine underneath it all, a real fear or a will to live if you''re a person that likes looking at a glass half-full. I squatted down with her. "Better safe than sorry," I said. "Best motto to live by."


    Mira scoffed. "Not unless you want your life to be boring as hell. The best things come from mistakes."


    May and I both cringed.


    "For that, you''ve been demoted to squatting status," I said.


    Mira squatted down and Mom and Dad looked at us a bit weirdly but quickly went back to anxiously glancing over their shoulders. "Well, how do I redeem myself?"


    "You don''t," May said. "It''s an eternal punishment."


    There was a little chuckle before a long awkward silence descended on us. Mira''s eyes softened and she reached out a gloved palm to May.


    "We''re going to be alright," she said, somewhat half-heartedly because I knew her mind was occupied by other thoughts. "We have to."


    But May brushed away her palm and gazed into the distance. Ash began snowing down and Mom wrapped her two scarves over May and I''s masks, just for double protection in case one of the layers failed. The men seemed to disappear into a haze of gray, their figures just dark gray silhouettes under a shroud of ashy dust that clung to the air around us, like the sides of a coffin.


    "Are they gone?" May asked.


    "I can''t tell," Mom said. "But I can''t see their shadows anymore."


    "I believe they''ve left," Dad said. "The visibility is probably too bad for them to use their guns efficiently or maybe they saw the guards in front and decided that it wasn''t worth it."


    "But do we know?" May asked.


    "Unless someone goes over to the edge," Mom said. "We can only hope."


    "But¡ª"


    "Don''t be pessimistic," Mom replied and cut May off before she could say anything. "Cynicism doesn''t take anyone anywhere."


    "That wasn''t deep, Mom," May rebutted.


    "It wasn''t supposed to be," Mom said and faced her back to the edge of the plaza with May and I in front of her.


    The rest of the wait was just waiting for the echoes of the bullets, firing from the dust and ash. Dad was running his hand through his hair, kicking up small clouds of ash, as Mom held May in front of her with an iron grip. The soft murmurs of the early dawn were gone, and everyone was basically stone silent. My heart leaped a couple of times when someone kicked a stone, the clattering across the stone like a bullet ricocheting. No one should have this much power over everyone.


    When we got the bags of food, we all rushed out as fast as we could, trying to escape the walls of gray closing into us. No one breathed a sigh of relief until we entered the house and Dad locked the door and we were finally safe. There was an awkward silence before Dad asked, "Does anyone want to shower first?"


    Everyone looked at each other before bursting out laughing. "Why are we laughing?" May asked.


    "I don''t know," Mira said between wheezes. "I call dibs."


    "Don''t shower too long," Mom said. "We need to save the water."


    After everyone but Mom and Dad and I showered (since they were worried about using up all the hot water), it was mid-afternoon, and the adrenaline wore off as my mind drifted to other places, like the magazine from yesterday and that guy''s eyes and body, but before I could start overthinking, Mira said, "What are you thinking about? Or looking at? That plain, boring wall sure is interesting."


    "Just stuff," I said. "It''s nothing."


    "Well it must be something," Mira said. "You looked like you were breaking out in sweat just thinking about it."


    "It''s complicated," I said.


    "You want to tell me about it?" she asked. "Maybe I can help."


    "It''s not something you can help me with."


    "Try me."


    "It''s just not."


    "Well you just got to try."


    I hesitated for a moment. Should I tell her about this, about the weirdness I feel when I look at guys in magazines or the odd fluttering of my heart when I was standing next to Leon making bread that was more than just social anxiety?


    "It''s about," I said. "School stuff."


    "School stuff," she said slowly and skeptically. "What kind of school stuff?"


    "You know, I think I have to go and study my textbook," I said and started walking away. "Maybe it''ll help solve the world."


    Mira looked disappointed in me. "It''s okay to talk, you know, and get things off your chest. Remember what we said a while back: no secrets about important things."


    "It''s not important," I lied. "It''s just thoughts."


    Then I left and opened up the textbook to the first chapter, but I wasn''t really paying attention as I skimmed through the pages. I know it was wrong to not tell her, and I know that opening up to others can help me figure out who I am. But this just feels too close to me, too hard for anyone to untangle except for me by myself.


    Thinking about it, maybe I''m the one doing the tangling of something so simple. Honestly, who knows? I doubt even God, if he exists, would even know.

 Chapter 16, Part 4

    August 21


    Moving day (partially).


    Dad spent all morning removing the TV while the rest of us pushed the couches out of the way to make space for the beds when the time came. Mira and May took measurements of the beds to see if we had made enough space for everything while Mom and I moved out all the bookshelves and random plastic bins of books and electronics that we stored in the living room to the garage. Moving out into the living room would make it much harder for me to sneak food out to Charles, but I didn''t resist because Mom and Dad could get suspicious, and for now, my secret is safe.


    After a quick and uneventful lunch break, Mom and Dad began moving up their greenhouse set-up from the garage and designated areas to put the solar panels in to charge the heaters. They had built a frame from some old plastic pipe shelving in our garage and draped it with a clear sheet of plastic to keep the heat in. Small lights were attached to the frame, providing ample light to the plants that will be growing inside.


    Even though everything was still awkward from yesterday, I went up to Mira and said, "Now''s your chance to show Mom and Dad your idea."


    "You sure?"


    "They''ll love it," I said.


    She took a deep breath and walked over to Mom and Dad. "Hey Mom, Dad. I think I have a way to fix your power issue."


    "Well, unless you have a way to get more solar panels¡ª" Dad said before being cut off by Mom.


    "What is it?"


    "I was thinking we could use mirrors," Mira said. "So we can reflect back light to the plants and make sure none of it is wasted."


    "That''s... actually a good idea for once," Dad said.


    "It''s a good idea, period," Mom said to Dad before turning back to Mira. "How are we going to get enough mirrors though? Our room has one wall mirror, and we have a couple hand mirrors around our house, but that''s it."


    "Do we have other reflective things?" Mira asked. "Sheets of metal or glass, maybe."


    "We do have aluminum foil," Dad said and you could literally see the gears turning in his head. "We can wrap the foil around the sides of the planter box to keep the light in. Do you think other things, like white paint, will reflect light?"


    "I''m not sure, but maybe," Mira said. "I also had a second idea."


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    "What?" Mom and Dad both asked, and it was great to see that they were all on the same page, building each other up instead of tearing each other down. I know it''s weird, but just watching them is making me feel weirdly joyful.


    "Mom, you remember all those solar panel phone chargers that we bought from the camping store."


    "Yes, but what does this have to do with¡ª" Mom said and paused. "I''m so stupid. How could I not have thought about this before?"


    "To be fair," Mira replied. "I literally did not think of this until this week."


    "What?" Dad asked, genuinely confused. "Is this some woman thing?"


    "Flashlights," Mom said. "All of our phones have it, and we can use the¡ª how many did we buy again?"


    "Around eight or so," Mira responded.


    "Eight solar panel phone chargers to charge up our phones and give ourselves some extra light."


    "Oh..." Dad said, his words trailing off. "I''ll go get the aluminum foil to start the wrapping."


    "I''m finding the solar panel chargers," Mom said and looked at Mira. "Can you check to see if we have some white paint or maybe watercolors from some old kit? I think I have an idea."


    As Mom and Dad basically ran into different rooms, Mira looked at me and beamed. "It worked."


    "Yes, it did," I said. "See, it went great!"


    "What do you think we should grow here?" May asked.


    "Maybe something hardy," I said. "Cabbages or onions or potatoes probably. Maybe something fast-growing like peas or mustard. We can save the tomatoes for a sunnier day."


    "Yeah," she said. "I''m tempted to grow a pumpkin, though, for the upcoming Halloween."


    "I completely forgot about that," I replied. "It''s in, like, two months or so."


    "Yeah," she said and there was a bit of an awkward silence. "Thanks for helping me out."


    "No problem," I said and looked at the greenhouse before turning my eyes away from it.


    Looking at Mira, she seemed so happy. Maybe this peace with Mom and Dad will only last a couple of days or maybe it''ll last for the rest of our lives, however long they may be. I think she''s figured out her identity, or at least a part of it, because she talked. Maybe I should too, at least a little bit.


    "I lied yesterday," I said. "About the whole school stuff."


    "I know," she said. "It was pretty obvious."


    "I lied also about it not being important," I replied. "It is important."


    "Do¡ª do you want to talk about it?"


    "It''s an identity thing," I replied before adding. "Like values and a sense of self stuff."


    "That''s very vague," she replied and brushed her hair to the side.


    "It''s the most I''m comfortable with," I said. "It''s just too personal."


    "Well it''s a start," Mira said. "And you know that I''m always open to talking, and look, if you don''t feel comfortable talking about it, you don''t need to lie. You can just tell me that."


    She continued. "And just know that you don''t have to figure everything out in a few days. I mean I didn''t even figure out what my own values are until college, and even then, sometimes I don''t know exactly what I want with life, so just know that there isn''t any pressure to understand everything."


    "Yeah," I said. "Thank you."


    I stood up. "I guess I''m going to go shower since I didn''t get a chance yesterday."


    When I got into the bathroom and locked the door behind me, I pulled out the magazine and flipped to that page with that guy''s pictures. With steam curling around me and the air warm, I could feel that this magnetism I felt was just more than jealousy or forbiddenness. It felt right. It was right, at least at that moment.


    I know I should be panicking about survival and losing water and natural gas (since after all, this is the apocalypse), but it''s weird that the thing that is bothering me the most is this.


    I guess I just need more time to figure out myself.

 Chapter 17, Part 1

    August 22


    There was a knock on the door in the morning.


    "Who is it?" I whispered to Mom and Dad.


    They were in the kitchen, making some string bean and corn soup since they claimed that they had a stomach ache and wanted all of us to eat something more lightweight, but we all knew that they were trying to save food, at least until the greenhouse came online.


    Their eyes widened, and they looked at each other.


    "Looters?" Mom whispered.


    "Maybe," Dad said. "Or maybe it''s Leon."


    Mira walked into the room. "Leon? He''s here?"


    "Shh," Dad said. "We don''t know. It could be looters too or some other bad person."


    "Why would looters knock on our door?" she asked. "If they wanted to loot, they would just break through our windows."


    "Do we have an escape plan?" May asked as she crawled into the room. "Today''s not my day either."


    "We can¡ª" Mom said before there was another knock on the door.


    Everyone froze and for a second, it was like time had paused, the gray skies unmoving and all of us staring at each other, eyes rimmed with various levels of fear.


    "Backdoor," Mom said. "We can hopefully sneak around them and get to the van. There might be a little bit of gas in it, so we can get at least a couple of miles of separation."


    "What if they have people in our backyard already?" May asked.


    "Then, we''ve already lost," Mom said. "So get to run. And in the meantime, remember where you guys were when Leon came, and we thought he was dangerous."


    May nodded vigorously while Mira and I gave her weird looks. Mom continued, "All of you guys can hide behind there."


    "You too," Dad said to Mom. "In case I don''t make it. We''re still going to need someone to take care of our kids."


    "No," Mom said. "I have to back you up. The both of us will have a better chance against them, and maybe we''ll give Mira and Neal and May a better shot."


    "I''ll answer the door," Mira said. "I need to know. Please."


    "No," Dad said. "I''ll answer it. It''s better if a man¡ª"


    "That''s so sexist, Dad," Mira said.


    "That''s society." Dad sighed and looked at her. "If it''s Leon, we''ll all know, but if it isn''t, maybe you''ll be able to get a better chance of seeing him again if I answer."


    So Mira, May, and I hid behind the counter as Mom and Dad, armed with axes, answered the door.


    "Who is it?" Dad asked with a gruff, rough voice, probably for intimidation, as he stared through the peephole before turning back and mouthing to Mom and all of us. "They''ve got big guns. Not Leon."


    Mom tightened her grip on the axe as Mira''s face fell, the dust-tinged joy on her face crumbling into ashy fear. I suddenly remembered something. "What about Grandpa and Grandma?"


    "Oh, shoot!" Mira said. "I forgot about them. I''ll sneak out and inform them."


    "Hurry up," May pleaded. "We don''t have much time."


    Mira sneaked into the other room as those people introduced themselves as "Mr. and Mrs. Shepard, neighbors from a couple blocks down."


    ''What are you here for?" Dad asked.


    "It''ll be better if we can talk face-to-face," Mr. Shepard said. "It''ll make explaining what we''re doing much easier."


    "Put your guns down," Mom shouted and Dad flashed her a look, but she ignored him. "Not on the floor but on the base of the staircase of the porch. And all your other weapons too, if you have them."


    "Okay," Mrs. Shepard said, though it sounded like a muffled whisper through the door. "We''re putting down our guns."


    "What if they shoot us?" Mr. Shepard said. "Maybe they''ve got guns and are ready to fire as soon as we put ours down."


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    "They''re scared," Mrs. Shepard said. "And your guns aren''t helping. I told you that we shouldn''t have brought them. We''re scaring people off faster than we''re recruiting them."


    "We''re unarmed now," Mr. Shepard shouted. "Can we talk now?"


    Mom and Dad looked at each other, and Dad nodded. He opened the door. "What do you guys want?"


    They both outstretched their palms and Mom and Dad shook them, dust spilling onto our hardwood floor. Mrs. Shepard turned to Mom. "Sorry about that. You know, you can never be too safe given these circumstances."


    "Maybe knocking on people''s doors isn''t the right idea."


    "Maybe," Mrs. Shepard said and shrugged. "But we need people."


    "For what?" Dad asked.


    Mr. Shepard ran his hand through his hair. "We''re forming a neighborhood watch. With the incident at the food drive¡ª you guys remember that right?"


    "Yeah," Dad said. "How could we forget? It was two days ago after all."


    "Yeah, yeah. Totally," he said and looked down. "Anyways, we''re looking for men to volunteer¡ª"


    "And women," Mrs. Shepard added. "We''re going to need as many volunteers as we can to keep ourselves safe. With the cops gone, we need to take matters into our own hands."


    "So? What do you think?" Mr. Shepard said and smiled as he pulled out a flyer from his pouch bag. "Our first meeting is next Monday, early afternoon. We''ll be going over shifts and assigning patrolling shifts for every night along with training if you''re unfamiliar with firearms."


    "Isn''t this illegal?" Mom asked.


    "Sometimes, we need to bend the rules to keep ourselves safe," Mrs. Shepard replied. "Some of the laws of before just can''t apply now."


    Dad sighed and leaned his arm against the doorframe. "Thank you, but I think we''re going to pass. Having more people with weapons and guns around, it''s just too dangerous."


    "I agree with my husband," Mom said. "Our first priority is keeping our family safe, and if either one of us gets hurt, who will take care of our children?"


    The smile on Mr. Shepard''s face morphed into almost a sneer. "Your¡ª"


    Mrs. Shepard cut him off before he could say much. "You two have children?" she said gently.


    Mom and Dad looked at each other, probably because they didn''t want to give out too much information. "Yes," Dad answered tersely.


    "I''ve got two daughters, both wee tall," she said and smiled while putting her hand at the heights of her children. "And I''d want to protect them with my life, and I''m sure you''d do the same for your children."


    "I know that you''re worried that you won''t be able to protect and take care of them if you get hurt, but think of the alternatives," she said and paused. "If people who want to hurt both of your kids come into the neighborhood, and if we''re not all here to protect you all, you guys might get more than hurt, you know?"


    Mom and Dad nodded, so Mrs. Shepard continued. "While I can''t promise that you guys won''t get hurt, I can say that you and your children will be much safer with all of us here together keeping them away. So what do you say?"


    There was a long pause and Mom and Dad looked at each other. May whispered, "Are they going to take it?"


    "I don''t know," I said. "I hope not, though."


    "Why not?"


    "I mean, imagine Mom and Dad walking through the streets at night with guns," I said. "They wouldn''t even be able to see much since it is pitch-dark, and plus, what if they accidentally shoot someone? That person will die, you know, with the hospital in who-knows-what shape."


    May didn''t say much as I focused my attention on Mom and Dad.


    "I''m still not interested. What about you?" Mom asked and looked at Dad.


    "We''re sticking with our original choice," Dad added on. "Killing people, weapons, everything. It''s a little too much."


    Mr. Shepard stepped forward. "If you don''t join, we cannot guarantee the safety of your neighborhood. Members of the watch will have their homes as first-priority for protection, and you guys will need it, especially since your neighborhood is deserted."


    "We''re sticking with our choice," Dad said.


    Mrs. Shepard stepped forwards. "I know it''s a lot to consider, so take the week to think about it."


    "Alright," Mom said and turned to Dad before saying, "Can you check the stove? I hope we haven''t overboiled our soup."


    Dad scrunched up his eyebrows and looked at Mom weirdly. "I''ll go check."


    Dad walked away to the kitchen before Mom looked at Mrs. Shepard. "Sorry. We''re being extra-careful. Food is pretty spare after all."


    "I understand completely," she said. "I hope to see you both next week."


    Mom waved goodbye to both of them before shutting the door and twisting the lock with a loud thunk. Dad walked back to the front door while all of us emerged from our hiding spots.


    "Wow," May said. "Second time you guys were wrong about a looter, first with Leon and now with whoever these people are."


    "What was that soup thing for?" Dad asked.


    "He threatened us," Mom said. "Or at least tried to. So I did what I had to: underplay the amount of food that we have to show that we aren''t worth looting when things go bad."


    "But now they think that we''re weak," Dad said. "It''ll make us easier targets."


    "But we won''t be," Mom said. "If we underplay the amount of food we have, we get the best of both worlds. We''ll stay safe for now, and if someone attacks us, we''ll be more powerful than them."


    "How do you know that?" Dad asked. "People might think that we''re easy targets and go for us first."


    "Would you rather go for a home bursting with cans of food or one with a couple of cans?" Mom asked before pausing. "Exactly what I thought. Going for people''s homes is already risky, so you might as well go big than go small."


    There was a pause between Mom and Dad''s argument, so May stepped in. "So... are we doing the whole watch thing or not?"


    "Nope," Mom and Dad said at the same time before Mom added, "It''s just too dangerous."


    And I agree with them. The winds must''ve been blowing hard today because when Mom opened the door, the stench of the ocean and rotting fish and kelp seeped into the room, covering everything with the aroma of death. When I closed my eyes this afternoon as the lights filtered through the ash-tinged windows, I could see that rotting body on the asphalt by the houses, their face bloated and seeping with dark fluids, whatever was left of their eyes glaring at the Moon as they laid there, warm but lifeless.


    There''s just too much death in the world, too many lives lost from the tides and the volcanic eruptions and ash storms and none of us giving food to others. And I just can''t even think about taking another person''s life because I don''t think I can handle the guilt that everyone in the movies feels afterwards when they stand over a person as whatever made them alive disappear.


    I''ve just gotta keep everyone around me alive, which reminds me: I need to prepare the backpack of food for Charles. Hopefully, his family is safe from those gun-toting raiders.

 Chapter 17, Part 2

    August 23


    The sky looked less gray this morning, and I could hear the howling of wind all night. Maybe there was a storm brewing over the horizon or maybe there was some weird jet stream change. I wonder if the blue sky will reappear sometime this week with the wind blowing all the clouds of ash inland.


    Anyways, in the morning, I saw Mira wetting towels and laying them out. "What are you doing?" I asked.


    "Preparing the seeds," she said. "I talked with Mom and Dad. We''re going to try growing some mustard greens and peas and a couple of onions and potatoes."


    "Maybe we''ll finally get fresh food," I said. "And things will become better."


    "Don''t get your hopes up too high," she said and placed the seeds on the wet towel to help them first germinate. "Actually, on second thought, keep your hopes up high. Maybe some of that positive energy can help the plants grow as well as they would be in the South."


    There was an awkward pause before I said, "He made it, you know. Don''t worry about it."


    She sighed. "It''s just¡ª It''s so frustrating not knowing. It''s like that cat in the box, you know, where he''s both made it and not made it at the same time. And with all those raiders and looters."


    There was a pause as she abruptly cut herself off before she said, "Sorry for dumping all of that on you. God, I feel like one of those people that dumps all their insecurities and worries on other people."


    "Don''t worry about it," I said and smiled a bit. "I can handle it."


    "I still feel guilty," she said. "You know what, here''s something good that happened today: I think I saw the sun come out."


    "What?" I exclaimed.


    "Well, not technically out," she said. "I woke up early this morning and saw a bit of pink between the clouds near the mountain, and when I squint and concentrate hard enough, I can see a faint blue."


    I looked outside of the window and gazed at the sky, squinting hard. I didn''t see any blue, but maybe I wasn''t using my imagination hard enough. "You sure you''re not hallucinating?"


    "Maybe I am," she said. "But it''s better this way."


    "That''s the right type of mentality," I said. "You just got to believe, you know."


    "It''s hard to though, with all the possible scenarios running through my head about everything terrible that can happen."


    There was a pause before I asked, "Have you tried journaling? Like writing down all your thoughts and everything? It might just be good to get all your thoughts down and out of your head to just rationalize them."


    "Will it help?"


    "It could," I said and shrugged. "I''m really guilty for doing what you''re doing right now, with my whole anxiety after finals even though nothing I could do afterwards could change it, so take anything I say with a grain of salt, but maybe it could help you, not move on, but move on with the idea that everything''s not going to be alright."


    She nodded tentatively, so I asked, "Did anything of what I just said make any sense? Sorry for the bad explanation. There''s a reason why I quit debate club freshman year."


    "It made sense," she said, nodding. "Well, at least as much sense as it could."


    She turned towards me. "Do you actually believe everything''s going to be alright?"


    I paused before saying, "Yeah. We''ve just got to hold out hope."


    That was a half-lie, and the truth is that some days I feel like everything is going to turn out fine and that life as we knew it will return back to normal and we won''t have to worry about what comes after and then some days everything feels hopeless, ash-storms clouding the midday sky, a pit of throbbing hunger in my stomach, the memories of my old life slowly fading to gray. But I kept the second part out because it wouldn''t help Mira, and I''m worried that if I tell the truth that I''ll make things worse for her.


    I''m such a hypocrite because I''m not practicing what I''m preaching, but maybe this is one of those good lies and good times to be a hypocrite. And if I say it enough times, maybe I''ll fully believe what I''m saying.


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    In the afternoon, I was just about to leave, my backpack filled with books and the cans for Charles, when Mom stopped me. "It''s too dangerous to go."


    "What?" I exclaimed, my plan to help Charles falling apart at that moment.


    "I know," she said. "But with the news of the looters and raiders, it''s just too risky."


    "But those are just rumors," I retorted. "And they''re probably not true since people sometimes just create panic and chaos because of their wild imagination."


    "You think that those men in guns were imaginary?" Mom asked rhetorically, and I didn''t respond because it would only get worse. "That''s what I thought."


    "Thirty minutes, Mom," I said. "I just need twenty minutes to tell Charles about this change of plans. It''s not like our phones work, and I can just text him."


    "Twenty," Mom said. "And you better be home on time."


    "Fine," I said and quickly slipped into my shoes before speed-walking to the library, being careful that my backpack didn''t clang too much as I left the house, so that Mom and Dad would not find out.


    Even though my heart was racing, and my mind was jumbled with panic thoughts (the same ones that Mira was probably experiencing), random and outlandish plans, and the terrifying thought of telling the truth to Mom and Dad, I felt oddly focused. It''s like those times during finals, where I feel overwhelmed, but at the same time, feel a weird sense of determination. Maybe it''s because the lives of Charles and his family are at stake right now.


    When I arrived at the library, nobody was there. I wasn''t too surprised. Meeting each other in the afternoons was always fraught with error without a clock since it was difficult to tell what time it actually was. So I decided to head to where I knew he was going to be: his home.


    But before I did that, I needed to return the random books in my backpack, so I grabbed an old flyer about that summer fair festival back when the Sun was still shining bright and scrawled "Book Return" on the paper with a sharpie from my backpack before placing it on the stack of books that I had. Hopefully, the volunteer will pick it up tomorrow.


    As I neared his house, I noticed more and more shattered windows, leaves and ash being blown into people''s abandoned homes as the ocean breeze gusted across these empty streets. It felt symbolic, in a way, that the scent of death was being blown into the homes of people who deserted our neighborhood for cleaner skies and warmer air.


    It''s almost as if the world is hinting that all those who had left had died. Or maybe it''s a warning to those of us who remained that death was coming for us, and that those who had escaped made it out before death could engulf them. Or maybe I have been thinking too much about literature class and not about actual survival and real-life stuff.


    As I turned into his neighborhood, I saw that almost every single window on this street was smashed, the glass shards glimmering in the brighter than usual sunlight. I was a couple of homes away from his house when I heard my name being called from being me. I looked back.


    Charles was running behind me. "What are you doing here?"


    "I didn''t see you at the library," I said and then looked down at his leg, where there was a thin rivulet of blood. "Your leg is bleeding."


    He looked down and swore. I stepped towards him. ''What happened? Do you need help?"


    "It''s nothing¡ª"


    "Doesn''t seem like nothing," I said. "Is everything alright?"


    "It''s fine," he said, but in the tone when he told me everything was alright even though he and his family were quickly running out of food. And I knew that he was hiding something again.


    He continued. "I just fell in the morning. It''s a small scratch, and it''s nothing."


    I looked at him skeptically because there was no way that this was from a fall. People scrape their knees and elbows during a fall, not the sides of their calves. Unless it was a very awkward fall, I knew that this didn''t come from a fall. But I didn''t question him then because there were more important things to handle, so I just said, "Okay."


    "Don''t need to worry about me," he said. "Anyways, what did you run to my house for?"


    "I don''t think we''re going to be able to meet up," I said. "Not for a while with all the looters and judging by everything that''s going on, this while might be a long time."


    "And I just want to give you this," I added and opened my backpack with the cans. "I can help take it to your house since it''s, like, a couple of houses down."


    "It''s fine," he said. "You seem to be in a rush anyways."


    "Yeah," I said and sighed. "My mom gave me only twenty minutes to give this message to you, and I literally had to run from the library to get to your house."


    I took out the cans and placed them on the ground. "Are you sure that you''re alright? Is there anything¡ª"


    "We''re doing fine," he said. "It''s the truth."


    "Okay," I said, but I think he knew that I didn''t believe him.


    "So when are we meeting again?" he asked.


    "Actually," I said. "Meet me in front of my house next Tuesday. I know my mom is worried about the whole raiders and looters thing, but hopefully, if we''re close by, then there won''t be any issue."


    "I think I''m over time," I said. "See you next week?"


    "You better have your fourth goal down," he said. "I think we''re already past our summer deadline."


    "Well that was before the volcanic eruptions," I said and looked back as I walked away. "Bye!"


    "Bye," he said and turned away, and for some reason, the soles of the thick boots that he was wearing seemed to glisten under the sunlight, almost like little shards of glass. But I ignored it. Much like Mira seeing blue skies, maybe I was just hallucinating too.


    When I got home, Dad announced that we were going wood-gathering tomorrow because he, like pretty much everyone in our family, forgot about the wood-gathering Monday since we gathered wood on Thursday, which just messed up everyone''s internal clock schedules. As the sun set after we had finished dinner, I gazed outside, hoping to see a flash of orange or pink or just vibrant color from the sky, any sign of life at all.


    But the sky remained gray before shifting to deep indigos and darkness, and all I saw was the soft light of the Moon behind the clouds, reminding everyone about everything they''ve lost. Hopefully, the winds blow more ash out of the skies, so at least, the bright sunsets and sunrises will make the bright Moon taste less bitter.

 Chapter 17, Part 3

    August 24


    The sky is getting lighter.


    But the winds were really rough in the forests. Even with all the cushioning from the dying trees, we could still feel the sting of the winter winds on our cheeks. When I looked up at the sky while I was picking up sticks, I could see slight movements of clouds in the sky, breaking the monotony of the normally unmoving gray. Maybe that clear sky day (or hopefully week) will finally come.


    I think the brighter skies filled everyone with a little more life. I felt giddy almost, like the last week of middle school, where no one did any work since we were all just waiting for summer break. Mom and Dad managed to chop down all two trees and bring the small logs of wood back without dying from exhaustion, though Dad let out a couple of loud, almost heaving, coughs that reverberated through the woods.


    After we got back, Mom, Dad, and May began testing out the greenhouse system. They moved the whole set-up closer to our house''s heating vents, so that instead of using the heater machines and wasting batteries, they could essentially kill two birds with one stone so to speak. Hopefully natural gas doesn''t run out any time soon, not just for our sakes but also for the plants'' and Charles'' sakes.


    In the meantime, May and I had to set up the phone charging stations with the solar chargers.


    "How are we going to make this as efficient as possible?" I asked.


    "Maybe we should move them around?" she suggested. "You know because the sun rises from the west and sets in the east."


    "I think it''s the opposite."


    "Who cares?" she said.


    "I mean, if you''re trapped in the woods all alone without a compass and¡ª"


    "Okay, get it," she said. "Sunrise east. Sunset west. Now move on."


    So we set up two phone charging stations, one on the east side of the house and one on the west side, right in front of the windows. May opened the curtains wide open, letting the even brighter sunlight wash into our kitchen counter, before Mom shut them close.


    "What are you doing?" May asked. "I was trying to charge the panels."


    "It''s unsafe letting people know we''ve got access to power," she said.


    "It''s a couple of phone solar panels. It''s not like anyone cares."


    "I don''t think we want to know if someone cares," Mom said and May nodded. Normally, she''d come up with a snarky retort or a disgusted groan or some reaction, but ever since that plaza incident and maybe even before that, she''s lost some of that spark. It''s like she''s afraid of dying or something.


    So we closed the translucent level of the curtain but left the opaque one alone. There was a slight reduction of light, but for the most part, I think there was enough light making it onto the panels for them to work decently. "Maybe we should try using the aluminum foil strategy for these too."


    "Maybe," she said. "Anything to keep ourselves alive."


    And we spent most of the afternoon just taping aluminum foil to the old cereal box cardboard, hoping that it''ll work. "I thought that guns and weapons would be our saving graces during the apocalypse, but who knew that scissors and tape would be the real heroes?"


    "I think everyone that doesn''t watch movies would know that," I said. "Now that you''re in the apocalypse, would you rather have those fancy yoga pants that you can''t even wear anymore because the ash will ruin it or those trusty pairs of scissors."


    "Pants, obviously," she said. "You can steal a pair of scissors from any other house, but it''ll take too many houses to find another pair of these pants."


    She continued. "Also, speaking of stealing from houses, did you notice the broken-in windows of the houses around us?"


    "When''d you notice?"


    "I saw a couple of them back when we were running away from the plaza after the whole incident," she replied. "Those people are smart, you know, taking while the houses are still available."


    "I mean it''s dangerous too," I said. "Especially with the whole neighborhood watch program starting. Not to mention the glass cutting people and the whole issue if the house isn''t actually deserted."


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    "A little glass hasn''t hurt anyone," she said. "And it''s super obvious to see whether someone actually is living in the house or not."


    She said in a lower whisper. "Maybe you and I should try doing that sometime, you know, like what we did with the Hunters."


    "No way," I said. "I can''t handle another one of your plans and all the lying and the close calls, where I have to do everything."


    "Just suck it up," she said. "Better than being dead."


    "We''re not going to die."


    "Whatever you say to make yourself feel better," she replied and went back to taping aluminum foil to cardboard. "Someday you''re going to regret not doing this."


    "Well that someday is not going to happen."


    By the time that we had finished taping the aluminum foil to the cardboard pieces and tried setting them up to best reflect light, the sun was already setting, and everyone was hungry. When I went to check up on how Mom and Mira worked on the greenhouse, Mira asked, "So how is it?"


    "It looks great," I said, and it really did. They''d changed up the design a bit, where instead of having the clear, plastic sheet draping on the sides, they decided to fully utilize the plastic sheeting by solely making the top plastic and instead of clear, plastic sides, they had aluminum foil walls built from plastic box covers and Styrofoam with taped foil on them. By the time they were done, they''d already finished one roll of aluminum foil, with only one more left, but their design was already as large as a table tennis table.


    "We should''ve bought more aluminum foil," Mom said. "Who knew how useful it would be?"


    "Arts and crafts save the day once again," Mira said while gazing upon their greenhouse. "It''s beautiful."


    "We should take a picture," Mom said. "Of all five of us. Neal, are the phones charged?"


    "I think so," I said as my phone booted up, the loading bar slowly becoming full in the dark waiting screen. Then my bright ocean froth home screen came on, with the phone battery at 5%, just barely alive.


    Even though the battery was low, and we needed to use the phone fast before it died, all of us were frozen, mesmerized by the phone as we stared at it. It''s so odd that something that we used to take for granted now feels so foreign, the bright turquoise of the home screen felt like it was from another planet.


    "Let''s just get the photo over with," May said. "Hurry up."


    Mom called Dad over, and as Dad set up my phone for a timer, he asked, "So what''s the occasion?"


    "Greenhouse Day," May said. "Or celebrating how we''ve survived till day whatever-it-is of the apocalypse."


    "I like Greenhouse Day better," Mira replied.


    "Let''s call it our first day where we''re building back life and taking it from the Moon in the sky," Mom said.


    ''Which movie did that come from?" May asked.


    ''Why?"


    "That was too cheesy to be original."


    Mom put her hands to her waists. "Well then I guess I am a cheesy person."


    "All right," Dad said and put the phone on a bookshelf before running back towards us. "Everyone say cheese."


    The camera flashed and I turned to Dad. "That was an awful pun."


    "Who cares?" he said and shrugged. "I liked it."


    Dinner was noodle soup, with an emphasis on the soup part since we only had about a handful and a half of noodles in everyone''s bowl. Mom made us eat everything, including the soup because of "li li jie xin ku," which basically means that with every grain of rice, there was a lot of work put into making it, so you better finish all your food. And even though my stomach was grumbling at the end of the meal since I wasn''t filled, it was nice to have something warm to eat, especially because we had spent half the day freezing outside.


    At the end of the meal, Dad said, "So what''s everyone grateful for?"


    May groaned. "Not this again. And you literally gave us the gratitude curse because we literally almost died in the plaza."


    "But we didn''t," Dad said. "Maybe our gratitude staved off this darkness."


    "Staved off this darkness," May replied. "What century are we in?"


    Dad ignored May and turned to the rest of us before pointing his arm towards me. "So Neal, do you want to start us off? And please don''t say family like last time unless you want to highlight a certain family member."


    He pointed at himself, and I stifled a groan before ignoring him. "Well, I''m grateful for the wind because maybe we''ll see the sun again."


    Mom added on to me. "Well, I''m grateful for the Sun then. Hopefully there will be sunnier days in the future."


    "Gross, Mom," May replied and fake vomited, and Mira and I nodded along with her. "You''re really on a cringe-roll."


    "Well, do you have anything better?" Mom asked.


    "Yeah," May said before turning to the rest of us. "I''m grateful for that stash of tequila in the pantry. Being drunk during the apocalypse sure beats being sober."


    No one said anything for a couple of seconds.


    "That was a joke, right?" Dad said.


    "Obviously," May replied before adding. "I was just trying to tone down the cheesiness. What I am actually grateful for is being alive."


    "Wasn''t that the same as last week?"


    "No," she said. "Last week, I was grateful that I was not dead. This week I''m grateful that I am still breathing. Big difference."


    "Okay," Dad said and nodded aimlessly before clearing his throat. "Well, I''m grateful that we''ve got a greenhouse, even though it''s more like a green-box. Hopefully we''ll be getting fresh vegetables soon."


    "And I''m grateful for tape," Mira said. "Without it, I don''t even know how this would even be possible."


    "Can I get a toast for tape?" Dad asked and raised his glass of water.


    Mira and Mom both raised theirs up with Mom even giving a loud whoop while May buried her face in her knees out of second-hand embarrassment. Everyone but May clinked their glasses together and said, "Cheers."


    Before I went to sleep, I gazed at the greenhouse (or as Dad put it "greenbox") that we had built. Even though it''s a mishmash of Styrofoam and plastic and reflective metal, there''s something beautiful about it, the way that it will be an incubator for life in this world surrounded by death that seeps through every crack in our house. Even with the windows closed, I could smell the lingering scent of the briny ocean and carcasses of kelp and people laying in the sun. Just before I went to sleep, I closed the opaque curtains to make sure that no one would be taking this life away from us.

 Chapter 17, Part 4

    August 25


    "Put the soil in with a little more love," Grandma loosely said in Chinese as Mom and Mira shoveled our pretty rock-hard soil into the cans.


    Mom said the equivalent of "Whatever" in Chinese and put the soil in more gently.


    All morning was spent cleaning out old cans to make them pots. We tried cutting the cans to make the bottoms breathable, but the scissors were too dull, and Mom was worried that we''d stab ourselves and get tetanus (though I''m pretty sure that we already got vaccinated for that). So we just washed old cans and put them side-by-side underneath the greenhouse until we''ve crammed as many as we could.


    While all of us were doing that, Dad was in the garage, searching for anything that might be useful, and he actually managed to find a bag of potting soil from a long, long time ago, though it only had enough soil to fill ten cans. Which meant that some people had to dig up soil from our garden for the vans.


    "I''m going to fix up the bottom of the greenbox," Dad said. "To make sure that the bottom doesn''t start to get dirty and help with excess water."


    He quickly ran off into the garage, probably to avoid the joyless work of shoveling dirt. Sometimes, Dad was very immature. But, to be fair, I also didn''t want to spend hours trying to break apart our rock-hard oil, so I said, "I''ll go make support structures, like those crisscross ones¡ª"


    "Trellises?" Mira suggested.


    ''Yeah, those things," I said. "So, yeah, I better get going to do some building."


    As I was leaving, Mom shook her head and muttered, "Men these days."


    And apparently May also followed me to my room since she refused to shovel dirt, and as we dug through drawers to find tape, popsicle sticks, and yarn, Mom and Mira were shoveling dirt into the forty cans that remained. There was a corner of the garden with softer soil since I remember composting vegetable remains there for a middle school experiment, but they could only fill half of the cans before running out of dirt and hiding the rock-hard soil underneath.


    So they had to dig from the rest of the garden, soil cracked and hard from years of neglect and drought (It''s crazy to think that about a third of my life was spent in drought, including all of my middle school years). When I looked outside, they were pouring a bit of water on the ground, probably trying to soften the soil, before Mira came in a couple of minutes later to call Dad outside.


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    In the meantime, May and I were building these trellises. We laid down the popsicle sticks, spaced a few inches apart and laid yarn across the popsicle sticks, taping each segment of yarn to a popsicle stick, so that it looked like one of those farm fences. We did that multiple times until that farm fence morphed into a crisscross of yarn and popsicle sticks, basically becoming a trellis.


    "That looks great," Mira said and picked our creation up. "Yarn to make this. That''s pretty cool."


    "It''s really random, but I remember reading it online in a comment for a zombie book," I said. "Who knew that it would be useful?"


    I looked outside at Mom and Dad pounding away at the soil. "So, what''s happening out there? Why''d Mom send you back in?"


    Mira sighed and looked down. "The usual thing she says, all the ash in the air, especially since it was taking way longer than usual and the water wasn''t helping soften the soil that much."


    She looked at me. "I was thinking about going to the ocean tomorrow."


    May and I''s eyebrows shot up. I didn''t know why she''d want to go to the ocean. I don''t know why anyone would want to go to the ocean unless they wanted to see death and heartbreak and random corpses littering the soggy soil and algae-stained rooftops of the formerly seaside mansions, now partially underwater.


    "What?" I said. "Why? It''s not like there''s even a beach."


    "It''s not even for a beach, silly," she said. "And I just meant the edge of the tidal zone, not the actual ocean. I just want to grab some kelp to fertilize the soil."


    "No," May said and joined the conversation. "Our house is going to be so stinky."


    I ignored May. "It seems like a pretty good plan," I said because it objectively was a smart idea even though there was this undertone of panic in my voice.


    Mira turned to May and me. "I was thinking of making it a whole family thing. Plus, maybe it''ll be nice, not in a good way but in a relieving way, to just face down the threat of the ocean, together."


    "Maybe you all can go ahead," I said. "I''ll stay behind. Just in case there is an earthquake and tsunami and everything so that at least one of us stays alive."


    Of course that was a flimsy excuse. I just didn''t want to go to the beach because it reeked with the stench of death. The last three times that I visited the beach¡ª the school trip before everything, the rotting corpse that plagued my nightmares, the time that I found out that Charles and his family were starving¡ª were all tinged with the feeling that everything was falling apart. The first was my friendship, then it was my mind and my dreams, and then it was Charles and his life. It was just too loaded of a place to head to.


    But I held my objections behind when Mira said, "C''mon. It''ll be family bonding but without those boring board games."


    "Fine. I''ll come if Mom and Dad agree to this," I replied, hoping that they wouldn''t force me to go. There''s just something so hard about saying what I''m thinking, just worried that Mira or Mom or Dad would get worried that I''m worried, and then I''d have to spill all of my secrets for them to understand without coming up with some paper-thin excuse. I guess it was just better for them to think everything is fine.

 Chapter 17, Part 5

    August 26


    I woke up in sweats this morning, a hazy nightmare plaguing my dreams. The details seemed so clear in the dark grays and blues of the dawn, but the sharpness quickly crumbled, and I was left with a vague sense of dread and a vestige of my nightmare, a guttural breathing mixed with the sound of bubbling water ringing throughout my mind.


    Mom, Mira, and I ended up going to the beach sometime during the afternoon because Dad felt like being sexist and forced me to tag along with Mom and Mira because they needed a "man with them." May was too lazy to go to the beach (or maybe too scared because honestly, sometimes it''s hard to tell when she''s lying or telling the truth) and said that she needed to defend the house too. Just before we left, buckets in our hands, Mom grabbed the tiny axe.


    When I was walking outside, I looked at the sky. It was so close to being clear, and that tinge of blue that I tried seeing a couple days back actually appeared, the thick haze transforming into a light fog that was just waiting to be burst. I could even taste summer on my tongue even though it was only around fifty degrees in the middle of the afternoon. Even with the ocean breeze blasting my face, there was this feeling of life.


    "The sun''s almost out," Mira said to me. "And the sky''s almost blue."


    "And this time it''s not an illusion," I replied. "It''s actually real."


    We walked a couple of steps, and she turned to me. "Yesterday, you seemed kinda weird about going to the ocean. Is everything alright?"


    "I don''t know. It just seemed dangerous."


    She gave me that look, and I knew that she knew that I was lying, probably because I didn''t put much effort in that lie.


    "I''m just not comfortable talking about it," I finally said.


    "Okay, yeah," she said and looked down before looking at me. "I just realized that you guys would be starting school now."


    "You''re about one week late," I said, holding up a finger. "And you''d be in college right now, doing college stuff."


    "You want to hear some college stories?" she asked. "Or have any questions, you know, about college."


    I shook my head and sighed. "There''s no point."


    I really wasn''t that pessimistic or downtrodden, and in reality, my heart was pounding out of my chest. Just the mention of college sent a spike of anxiety in me, and I began thinking about how it would be my junior year if high school was still open and how I''d finally have to make a choice about what I wanted to do in the future.


    Luckily, Mira said something before everything became too awkward, "It sucks that you''re missing a whole chunk of your life because of this. Your best years of life, just after you''re old enough to do adult stuff but still young enough that everything isn''t so serious."


    "College applications and endless days of doing SATs," I quipped sarcastically. "So much fun."


    "Well, not that stuff," she replied. "Like dating and going to prom and making new friends and just living your best high school life."


    "None of that seems interesting," I said and shrugged. "A comfy sofa and an interesting book seem like a lot more fun. I mean, those characters living in those books have way better lives than any of us."


    "Living through people vicariously is not living life," she said. "And plus, dating and going out is lots of fun."


    "What''s so much fun about getting rejected over and over again?"


    "It''s about finding a special connection," she said. "When dating starts again, I know you''ll find the perfect girl."


    "Yeah, totally," I said, shrugging a bit. I didn''t tell her that I might not be interested in dating a girl, and that I might be not interested in dating or maybe interested in dating a guy or maybe not. I should probably stop writing about this since all these "maybes" are making me dizzy, but still, I guess I wonder how dating another guy would even work.


    Anyways, back to more important things, like how after that, we didn''t talk much. Maybe it was because of the stench of the ocean breeze, the rotting odor that smothered the life of our conversations. I think it was mostly because there was nothing to talk about. Well, actually, there were things to talk about, but it''s just like I can''t hold those heart-to-heart conversations like the people in the movies do. With everyone spending time with each other all the time, anything new will be personal and personal stuff is just weird to talk about, especially when I''m the one that has to do the whole talking about my personal stuff.


    When we got the yellow tape, Mom and Mira looked down at the flooded neighborhood below. The walls of the houses looked worse than below, caked with sand and mud while there was kelp strewn all over the street, stinking up the air.


    "Okay," Mom said. "Let''s get to it."


    Mira gingerly crossed the yellow tape, now tattered and laying on the ground, and put on some rubber gloves before picking up handfuls of kelp and putting it in her bucket, while Mom and I picked kelp from a safer distance. Flies flew in circles around our faces, and despite the pretty frigid temperatures, my body was hot and tired.


    All of a sudden, there was a rumbling towards the ocean, and all three of us looked in the distance down the street that led to the ocean. At the very end, I could see the water, frothing and quickly moving towards us.


    "Get back," Mom said and we scrambled away from the flooded zone and back behind the yellow tape.


    The water rushed towards the middle of that street before receding, and then rushing another 10 or so yards forward every couple of seconds until the dry street that we were standing on was flooded by a foot of water after a couple of minutes. There was a loud screeching nearby, probably a broken car being dragged across the asphalt, and we all looked at each other, probably thinking back to the first day when everything happened, and the beach got flooded. I think there was a reason why no one had survived.


    "Let''s go," Mom said and we began partially carrying and partially dragging our buckets on the ground. I guess everyone was tired and glum after the waves and the work (even though it was for only around ten or fifteen minutes).


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    We were just about to leave when Mira looked back and shouted, "Look."


    We gazed at the horizon, and suddenly, it was like the ocean was hit with a burst of light. Golden rays streamed from the clouds breaking apart above the ocean, the wind finally carrying the ash to new places away from here, as the sun began setting. The surface of the ocean, previously dark blue and moody, blossomed into jewels of amber and sapphire.


    "It''s beautiful," Mom said as Mira just gaped at the ocean.


    "Maybe this is the end," Mira said before quickly correcting herself. "Not the end, but maybe a new beginning."


    "Maybe," I said and gazed at the streams of light pouring through the clouds like rain.


    Suddenly, I was hit by a barrage of memories of old summers. I don''t know why my mind does this sometimes. It''s usually always with music, an old pop song reminding me of tennis summer camps or a country song taking me back to those days where I stared at a computer and played Minecraft all day.


    But now, it''s like the streams of sunlight are stitching all my summer memories together, all those bowling camps when I was in second grade and that school pool party that we had in fourth grade and the strawberry popsicles that we got from the Asian mart coating my fingers with stickiness and the beautiful summers that I spent creating clover bracelets and random leaf and twig contraptions. And, for some reason, I felt this overwhelming sense of joy as I turned to Mira.


    And for some reason, she was crying. "Is¡ª Is everything alright?"


    "It''s nothing," she said with a smile and wiped her tears. "Actually, it''s not nothing. It''s just that I can''t stop remembering that summer day that Leon and I met. It''s like my mind is just playing it on a loop."


    "He''s made it," I said. "Maybe it''s a sign from the people above or maybe it''s just a sign of the universe. But if it''s sunny here, then maybe, wherever he is, it''s sunny too."


    "I think he''s made it too," she said. "I really do."


    "He''s probably got hot water," I said. "And actual electricity, not just some batteries, and an infinite-supply of instant-noodles¡ª"


    "He hated those in college," Mira said, laughing a bit. "Called it the most overrated college essential."


    "Fine, then he''ll have tons of pizzas and canned peaches and stuff," I said.


    "Stuff?" she said.


    "I ran out of ideas," I said. "But he''s probably in paradise."


    "Or at least as great as paradise could be," she said wistfully and turned back to the ocean.


    "He''s in a better place," I said before correcting myself. "Well, not the heaven better place, but safe and sound."


    She nodded, and I could literally see the transformation in her. All that stress and anxiety and fear about Leon came one step closer to fading away. Maybe this was her way of letting go, not the idea of him or hope, but letting go of that fear and anxiety. It''s odd that the Sun that we saw every day and every night for the past sixteen years of my existence is now so precious and filled with hope. It''s these little things that you never notice until everything else is gone.


    "I wish I had a camera," Mom said. "We can label this as our first Sun day."


    "You better not post it on Facebook," I said.


    "Why would I do that?"


    "You literally post your life on Facebook."


    "Well, you''re lucky that there is no Facebook anymore," she said and gazed at the sea


    "We should make a collage," Mira said. "To document everything that has happened."


    "Document it for who?" I asked.


    "Ourselves," Mira said and smiled. "For when all of this is over, and we''re, like, ten years older and the world is back to usual. And we''ll look over these photos and probably laugh at how happy we were to see the Sun."


    May would probably say that we''re making a collage for people to remember us by, once we all pass away from the ash or starvation or dehydration or a thousand different events, so that our existence wasn''t a mirage or a dream but something real.


    "We look a little ridiculous, though," I said. "I wonder what people would think of us."


    "Who cares about what other people think?" Mom said. "When we''ve got each other."


    And she hugged us, and even though she probably said the cheesiest line that she could think of to annoy us, there was something genuine behind it. Sometimes the most real things in life are the cheesiest ones (That sounds like a cheesy line in and of itself).


    When we went home, we shared the news with Dad and May and Grandpa and Grandma, and even though the sky was still cloudy, I could see streaks of pink from behind the clouds during the sunset. We couldn''t get a printed photo since the polaroid camera ran out of film and is garbage at capturing color, but we got one on Dad''s phone and stared at it until Mom realized that we all were wasting batteries.


    When we were at the dining table, eating some soup and a small side, Mom said, "When we were walking, Mira had a great idea that we should build a collage, and I think we should do it to commemorate this day."


    She turned to Dad and told him to find an old spiral notebook and ordered the rest of us to either find or make something to remember this day about, even Grandma and Grandpa. After an hour or so of scattering and finding and coloring and making things, we finally all got together and shared.


    Grandpa brought an old fishing hook that he had made in Taiwan a long time ago. I''m pretty sure there was a whole story to it, but I didn''t understand his words, half in Chinese and the other in Taiwanese. Grandma brought the English word that she was trying to learn today, "Garden." "Your garden is beautiful," she said, and we all clapped for her as she beamed with pride.


    "Our garden," Mom corrected her. "We all put work into it."


    May took out a little suns sticker and pasted it on the paper. "I hope we''re not jinxing it."


    "Then, you guys better sing the anti-jinxing song," Dad said as May groaned.


    "That''s not even a thing," she said as Dad began clapping his hands to an unknown beat, smiling at May''s suffering.


    "This is the anti-jinxing song," he sang, though it sounded more like a wail. "We are not going to jinx-tomorrow. This is the anti-jinxing song."


    He paused before saying, "Something-something-something rhyme. Sorry about that, I ran out of words."


    Mom was laughing hard, and Dad bowed, though none of us clapped. Hopefully, it''d discourage him from doing this ever again. Dad then placed his object onto the collage, lyrics of his horrible song that he had written down while singing on a napkin. Mom went next and put in a picture of a sunset cut from one of those glossy magazines that we always received in the mail. It lay there in the center of the notebook, not taunting us, but almost reminding us of something we have to live for in the future.


    Mira put a short haiku in there.


    Dewdrops of sunlight.


    Wash away ashy night skies


    Blossoms of hope rise


    "It''s a bit rushed," she said. "But I didn''t have much time."


    "That''s fine," Mom said. ''It''s beautiful. It really is."


    And I guess I was the last person to put my object in. Well, it was less of an object and more of a picture of a sunset: reds, oranges, yellows, purples, and blues made into a gradient that stretched across my picture sky, colored painstakingly with colored pencils. And then, Mom titled the entry with "Sun-Day - August 26th" and closed the notebook before waving us goodnight. For someone in the world, August 26th might not mean anything, but I think I''ll remember it as the first time that the sun truly appeared (even though, technically, it was the second time).


    Because even though this whole week started with death and guns, it''s odd that everything feels so alive. I thought that I''d be bothered by the stench of the kelp, the rotten smell lingering in the living room despite us storing it in the garage, because it reminded me of that corpse lying on the street along with many others hidden by mansions and cars and the sea. But oddly enough, there''s this sense of life too, like we''re going to turn the kelp and death into fertilizer to grow our crops and bring life into the world. It feels ironic and poetic and weird all at the same time.


    What''s also weird is that I''ve been thinking about an old summer memory differently, back from all the way in elementary school. I don''t exactly remember the movie, but I do remember thinking about the main character, a guy, for days, just wanting to be perfect and cool and smart like him. Maybe it''s like what I thought it was back then and mostly now, just a twinge of envy and wanting to be him, but I believe it''s more than that. Maybe that''s when this whole thing started, and maybe I''ve been purposefully misinterpreting my emotions to keep everything normal, you know.


    And maybe that normal just isn''t me.

 Chapter 18, Part 1

    August 27


    "Excuse me, everyone," the announcer at the food pantry made, the megaphone buzzy as he cleared his throat before stating, "I have an announcement to make."


    "No duh," May muttered as everyone shuffled around, glancing at each other, whispers of hopes and anxieties filling the air: "Are there going to be more food cuts? Maybe we''re going to get some gasoline. I think the power''s coming back. There''s no way that they''re going to cut the water and natural gas supply. I think this might be the end. Maybe this is going to finally end."


    There was some feedback, and everyone was silent, some waiting for good news, but most waiting for everything to go wrong. "First of all, I''d like to take some time to celebrate the beautiful sunshine that we have today. Maybe better times are coming ahead."


    Everyone cheered, and even Dad let out a little whoop. The skies had fully cleared overnight and were tinged light blue as thin wispy clouds cling to it like cotton strands. When we were walking to the food drive, everyone was just staring at the burst of orange pouring from behind the mountains east of our city as a pale sunlight filtered through the branches, painting the white skeletons of the trees shades of golden, amber, and topaz.


    "With that being said," the announcer continued. "We do need volunteers for some work."


    The joyful attitude quickly crumbled, and Mom and Dad looked at each other.


    "What work?" someone shouted.


    "As many of you guys know, during this crisis of ours, the roads haven''t been maintained well," he said. "And with the volcanic ash and our current drought, the trees and soil haven''t exactly been the most stable and with the exodus of cars and chaos, the highways are clogged and¡ª"


    "Get to the point," a woman shouted.


    "Are we going to become slaves?" a man shouted.


    "My point is that the roads bringing us food are through the mountains," he replied, megaphone blaring loudly. "And we''ve already lost both of the main ones to landslides two weeks or so back. We need to preserve the last pass because we are going to be trapped here if we don''t."


    "That''s BS," a man shouted. "There''s a lot more roads that lead to the city."


    "All of those take too long to get here," the announcer said. "And the government doesn''t want to waste time, especially when gasoline is sparse, and many other towns are fighting for food shipments too. We''ve been very lucky to receive all the food that we have received, and I''m sure that you don''t want to lose that."


    "They can''t just leave us," another person shouted.


    "We don''t want to find out," the announcer said. "So I''m asking for volunteers to help install rockfall netting around the slopes of the road and another group of volunteers to help sweep the streets to keep them ash free."


    No one raised their hand, everyone looking at each other to see if another person was going to raise their hand. I saw that Mira was going to raise her hand before Mom whispered to her, "Don''t."


    "Why not?" she asked.


    "Just wait," Mom said.


    After a minute or so of no one raising their hand, the announcer said, "Please, we really need volunteers. We''ll be giving double rations and two gallons of gasoline to everyone who helps for at least six hours today. Plus, it''ll be the perfect way to spend all day in the sunshine on this lovely day."


    There were more murmurs in this crowd of three hundred or so people. Dad looked at Mom. "We should do it."


    "Too dangerous," she said. "You heard them. If we go there, we''re going to be working on slopes that might collapse on us. I don''t want to take that risk."


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    "Then how else are we going to be getting gasoline," Dad said. "Just like you said when the Shepards came to our home, we''re going to need an escape plan just in case bad people break into our homes."


    "I''ve already got a plan," Mom said. "I got a job at the school''s library or some other posting."


    "How?"


    "I asked the worker there, and she wrote me a note," Mom said. "She''s leaving this Sunday, off to the South, and there will be a vacancy. The city pays these people in gasoline, maybe a gallon or two a week. It''s far better than doing that dangerous work."


    "Do you know if it''s even true?" Dad asked. "She could be lying for all we know."


    "We''ve just to trust her word."


    "Why wait for trust when we can get gas right now?" Dad asked rhetorically.


    "How do you know that they''re actually going to go through with their promises?"


    "Trust," Dad said. "And a whole lot of angry people if they don''t."


    "And plus," Mira said. "We''re going to help other people and ourselves. It''s a win-win for everyone."


    "The only people we look out for are each other," Mom said. "You¡ª"


    "How can you be so cynical, Mom?" Mira asked. "What if, by not volunteering, we''re the reason why the landslide buries the road."


    "Or what if, when you both go there, the landslide does occur?" Mom asked. "I can''t afford to lose both of you."


    There was another feedback of static before we heard a loud, staticky sigh. "I didn''t want to do this, but if anyone wants food, they''ll have to work for it. Only children twelve and under, seniors sixty-five and older, and people with disabilities or special needs will get food freely. Everyone else needs to contribute."


    "You can''t do this," someone shouted. "We''re not your slaves."


    "I haven''t had food in days," a woman shouted. "Please, I need food."


    "No exceptions to the rule," the announcer said with a heavy sigh. "I''m sorry that it had to come to this, but we desperately need help."


    People slowly began joining the small group of volunteers that came forwards before the threats. The joy of the sun was sucked from their bones as they shuffled into a tight circle in a corner of the plaza, where rockfall netting installation and road sweeping directions were being given.


    "We have to go now," Dad said. "At least Mira and I."


    "No," Mom said. "It''s clear that if they''re so desperate for volunteers that the situation there is dangerous or becoming like that."


    Dad began to walk away, and Mira followed him before Mom grabbed his wrist. "No, you will not leave. We''re making this decision, together, like a democracy. All of us voting."


    "We''re sacrificing our lives," Mira said. "You can take Grandma and Grandpa and get the senior citizen food and take them home while we bring home the double rations and help everyone else."


    "It''s not about you two," Mom said. "Death isn''t just some one-off thing that only affects you. It ripples and can sweep away everyone around you, all the people that are left over. Would Leon want you to do this to yourself?"


    "Yes he would," Mira basically shouted. "Because he actually gave a damn about people."


    There was a silence as people stared at us, and Mom glared at them.


    "I agree with Mom," May added. "I don''t want to die, especially not in a week like this, where the sun is actually out, and I don''t want you both to die."


    "Well that''s two votes on my side and two votes on yours," Mom said. "So everything''s on you, Neal."


    Everyone started staring at me. Mom and Dad both giving me hard stares, Mira''s eyes practically pleading for me to let her go and save our town, and May just staring at my feet, partially bored and partially scared. I hate being in this position and being the one to make that crucial decision, the one that''ll make half the people mad and the other half less so.


    In my heart, I really wanted to side with Mira. Maybe, even before this event, I would''ve gone with her and helped fix the side of the roads and help keep food deliveries going and the town happy. It was the right thing to do because it was selfless and brave, and something that all of the characters in the old books that I read would do.


    But I began thinking about what Mom said and the ripples of death. If the cliffs collapse today or there is a big earthquake and both Mira and Dad die, I don''t know how we''ll be able to cope with it. What if Mom or May or I fall into shock, shattered so much by grief that we can''t function or do anything, even things like gathering firewood or coming here on Saturday?


    And as much as I wanted to go and help, I realized that I also had people that I was looking out for: Charles and his family. If I die, they won''t have anyone to help sneak them some extra food to keep them away from the edge of starvation, and I''ll be responsible for their deaths. Our whole family has got to stay functioning and healthy and whole, all seven of us, because that''s the only way that Charles makes it through because I can''t let the only person that was willing to be my friend from all the way from elementary school just turn into dust. I just can''t.


    "I''m so sorry, Mira," I said. "But I agree with Mom. We''ve got people we''re looking out for, and I don''t want you or Dad to die."


    "So, it''s settled," Mom said. "I''ll take my parents to the food drive while you guys wait here."


    "That job better be real," Dad said.


    When I tried looking at Mira, she wouldn''t even give me a glance, and I stared at the floor, hoping that it would swallow me shut. This had to be the worst feeling in the world, a long, deep sense of disappointment that I don''t think would ever fade away. Why did I have to be that middle person? Just why, universe?

 Chapter 18, Part 2

    August 28


    Just when things couldn''t get worse on this sunny week. Apparently, Mom''s job wasn''t real.


    Well, it was real, but the key word is "was." It turns out that that job was only a two-week stint, and afterwards, when most of the students and families that chose to stay had gotten their books, the school library closed down forever. It was probably because of electricity concerns.


    With the ash knocking out solar panel farms and disrupting wind turbines (since ash quickly wears down and clogs the rotating systems for those turbines), the only power plants that could be producing power were hydroelectric and coal, both of which can only produce a bit of energy (especially since there literally is no coal in California). And even then, whatever electricity is left has to be divided up between the hospitals, natural gas, and water systems, and I guess there just wasn''t any room for the library.


    "Told you so," Dad said. "It was a lie."


    "Well, it''s better than going to die," Mom replied. "You should be glad that I saved your life."


    "No one died."


    "How do you know?" she asked. "We don''t have any internet, TV, anything."


    "Common sense," Dad said. "Because if they did, people would be marching towards the city hall and tomorrow it''d be burned down to ashes."


    "They wouldn''t," Mom replied. "People are scared and nervous, but they wouldn''t do that. Not when they need the government."


    "How do you know that people died?" Dad asked and raised his voice. "It''s not like you have the internet or any connection. We needed that gas¡ª"


    "How was I supposed to know that it was a lie?" Mom shouted back.


    Looking back on it, I think it was obvious. That librarian was too nervous, too scared, especially when Mom found out that she''d been getting gasoline. Maybe she was worried (somewhat irrationally) that Mom would stalk her and rob her house for gasoline since every drop is like liquid gold, especially since the volcanoes, where the only cars with gasoline were Leon''s and those weekly food delivery trucks. That''s probably why she offered Mom the job that wouldn''t exist after she had left, so that Mom would wait for two weeks for gasoline instead of taking a risk and robbing her house for some. It was just so obvious, but I don''t think anyone was cynical enough to put that together.


    They continued arguing, going in circles over and over again, until both of them got tired of repeating the same exact points again and again and just resigned to giving each other icy glares with the occasional snarky comment. I think I normally would''ve broken up the argument, but with May disappearing to the kitchen and Mira still frosty towards me, there was nothing I could do that wouldn''t have made it worse.


    So I sat in the bathroom and locked the door behind me and hoped that the wall drowned out the sounds of shouting because the sounds of people arguing are the worst in the world, even over the clattering of plates or the squeaky sounds of wet rubber soles on smooth wooden floors. I don''t know why, but I could feel my heartbeat rushing, fluttering too fast, completely unable to focus on anything with this pit of dread sitting in my stomach. I stayed in the bathroom until May knocked on the door to ask what was taking me so long, and I spent the rest of the day in the living room, trying but failing to read one of those fantasy books.


    Dinner was awkward, to say the least. Lately, Dad has been making a lot of soup and today, we had soup and mixed vegetables, and everyone sipped the warm soup in silence.


    "I''m cold," May said.


    "Go get a sweater," Mom replied.


    "I''ll go turn up the heater," Dad said at the same time.


    "No," Mom said. "It''s warm enough right now, and we need to conserve natural gas right now."


    "We need to keep the plants warm too," Dad replied and stood up. "If it''s cold enough for May, then whatever seeds we had sprouted will be dead by morning."


    "Listen to me. It''s sixty degrees in the house already. There''s no need to turn this place into a greenhouse."


    "Well maybe you should''ve listened to me when I said we should''ve taken the job and gotten some gasoline and food instead of trusting strangers over family and the government."


    I tuned out for the rest of the argument and stirred the carrots bobbing on the surface, trying to convince myself that carrots were delicious, but as soon as I put one in my mouth, I spit it out. Because Mom and Dad were deep into their argument, I slipped away quietly from the table, hoping that they wouldn''t notice that I hadn''t finished all of my food.


    I ended up hiding in Dad''s office study area, swiveling in the twirling chair before quickly leaving after hearing the storming of footsteps in the kitchen area. Everywhere I went seemed to send a spike in my heartbeat as I dodged Mom and Dad, trying not to get caught in their storm of rage, and ignoring Mira, who keeps giving me icy looks.


    In the end, I ended up hiding in the bathroom again, gazing into that man''s dreamy eyes in the magazine until the thoughts and questions and weirdness about these feelings started flowing and making something that felt so natural just awkward, and I shoved those glossy papers in the back of the cabinet. I don''t think I can handle any more of this stuff anymore, at least not right now.


    August 29


    If yesterday was the storm, then today is the aftermath, not rainbows and sunshine filtering out into rays from behind the clouds, but that uncomfortable dampness that rises from the asphalt when it stops pouring and the clouds clear the sky.


    Wood gathering was tense, and unlike last time, when Mom and Dad and all of us were like a well-oiled machine, picking and gathering maybe a week''s worth of wood that day, today we maybe gathered enough wood for two or three days, if I''m being generous. Mom and Dad weren''t working well together and while I wasn''t getting the same icy looks as before, I knew that Mira was still mad at me. It wasn''t really anything based on evidence, but just a feeling, you know.


    The only other thing that happened today was that Dad moved the greenhouse closer to the heating vents so that the hot air would blow better on the plants. Even though the sun is out, it''s still around fifty-degrees at most during the afternoons and the mornings are pretty frigid, so even though everything about the sky screams summer, from the early dawns to the sunsets around seven or eight, the weather still feels like the depths of winter.


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    Actually, one other thing happened today. I saw Mom filming the sunset today, the bright reds and lavenders filling up the sky tonight, colors swirling so much with the clouds and the walls of the houses and ash-rimmed windowpanes that I felt like I was in a hallucination.


    "What are you doing?" I asked, even though I knew exactly what she was doing.


    "Filming the sunset," she said. "For times when the sky isn''t so clear anymore and the clouds return again."


    "Have you talked with Mira about the collage idea?"


    "She hasn''t said a word to me since Saturday," Mom said. "Any luck with you?"


    I shrugged and gazed out the window as the indigos of the night began dimming the celebration of colors.


    "I''m surprised you haven''t played any of your phone games," Mom said.


    "I thought you and Dad were all about restricting my screen time."


    "I think a two-month break is more than enough," Mom said. "And maybe it''ll be a good idea to have something normal to do."


    "I guess," I said. "But it''s better to use the phones for the flashlights for the greenbox."


    "Calling it the greenbox now," Mom said before nodding her head. "You truly are your father''s son."


    "I don''t even know what that''s supposed to mean," I said before leaving Mom to capture the dimming of the sun as it slipped behind a wall of shingled roofs and the sloshing ocean.


    August 30


    I nearly got caught this morning.


    I had already prepared the bag of canned food last night, and all I needed to do was to drop it off in front of the porch in the same spot as last time, so that Charles could fill up his bag safe from the prying eyes of Mom and Dad. And in the dawns of the morning, I unlocked the front door, making sure that the heavy lock did not thud too loud, and managed to get the bag into place. But before I could hurry back inside, May had seen me outside.


    "What are you doing?" she asked.


    "Stuff," I said before gazing at the wispy tendrils of clouds above me. "Looking at the sun and the sky."


    "Looking at the sun and sky..." she repeated.


    "Yeah."


    "Yeah..."


    "Stop repeating after me," I said, on the outside, probably sounding pretty annoyed, but I was panicking on the inside. I think she would''ve said something if she knew because May isn''t the type of person to hide her thoughts, but who knows? "What do you want?"


    "Nothing, geez," she replied. "I was only asking. It''s not like you have something to hide or anything."


    "Whatever," I muttered and walked inside. I don''t think she knows, but I know she''s suspicious, and I know that one day I''ll be caught. I don''t know how I can keep living like this, sneaking food out every week and having a scare every single time, mostly because of my paranoia but sometimes because I''m just seconds away from being caught and losing everything. But if I don''t do this, then I''ll lose my only friend, and I don''t know what I''d do.


    I guess I still feel suffocated, you know, by the world. I thought that when everything happened that I''ll finally have at least a little freedom to live a little and for a while, it actually came true, but now, it''s like the world has snapped into place again. College and jobs are just being replaced with starvation and death and the cold that''s going to come in a couple of months.


    I waited all afternoon for Charles outside until Mom asked me why I was sitting outside with the dusts of ash kicking dust into the air and told me to wait inside.


    "Charles is coming here," I said, and she sighed at my loophole to her rule before doing whatever else she was doing before. I think it was after an hour or so that he finally appeared.


    "Hey," I said and closed the door behind me before stepping outside. "You got it, right?"


    "Yeah," he said and turned back. "I got the package. I feel like I''m a spy or something in the movies."


    "That makes it sound a lot cooler," I said before remembering what I saw last time, with the rivulet of blood. "How''s your leg doing? You know, after last time."


    "It''s fine," he said before scuffing the ground with his boots. "I''m fine."


    "That''s good," I said and nodded before gazing at his boots, remembering how their soles shined with the glittering of what I imagined was glass. But these weren''t the same shoes, and I think these were new, the sides undusted by ash and the laces unfrayed. "New shoes?"


    "Not really, no," he said. "More like my dad''s old pair that we found buried in the corner of our attic that probably haven''t been touched since I was in kindergarten."


    That sounded really odd to me since I thought they had pawned everything away during July. He couldn''t be lying to me about that since he looked sick, and I know that I''m not imagining it. But there are things that just aren''t adding up, unless I''m thinking about it wrong. But I don''t think I am.


    "Are you sure?" I asked.


    "Why wouldn''t I be sure?" he replied.


    "Okay," I said. "I guess everything is fine."


    He nodded before saying, "So what''s your fourth one? I know we didn''t get much time to talk last time."


    "I don''t know," I said. "I guess I just wish I could just leave everything behind."


    "Like running away?"


    "Yeah but not really," I said. "I guess I just want to leave some stuff behind and just disappear into the mountains. Maybe the pretty ones around Wyoming¡ª"


    "Wyoming," he exclaimed. "That''s in the middle of nowhere. And who knows what''s going to happen with Yellowstone?"


    "I mean, if you want to live life on the edge..." I said.


    "Maybe I should," he said. "Who knows when an earthquake will collapse a building on me when I''m sleeping?"


    "That was awfully specific," I said with a soft chuckle. "And really dark. Anyways, maybe the mountains around Montana, and just live in the woods, you know, with the tall trees and crystal streams and everything without the pressures of society."


    "Wow," he said with a smile. "Leaving me behind. That really hurts."


    "Fine," I replied with a smile of my own. "You can come, and we can, I don''t know, do whatever people do in the mountains, like being cowboys and riding horses or herding sheep or fishing even though I have no clue how to do any of the things that I just said."


    "I thought your dream was Hawaii or some warm place?" he asked.


    "I guess," I said and shrugged. "I''m probably reading too many westerns right now. I don''t think it''s even possible anyways, probably just my overactive imagination."


    I expected him to say no or something, but instead, he just nodded on before softly saying, "Yeah."


    I looked down. "Yeah. I know."


    "It''s not like it''s not possible," he said. "I just feel like that''s for something in the future, future, you know."


    "It was a stupid idea anyways," I said before sighing.


    "It isn''t stupid," he replied. "I wish we could go camping in the mountains and disappear or something, but it''s not possible, you know. It''s not like your Hawaii dream, where we could go to the library and travel the world on book pages."


    The winds kicked some ash into the air and Charles coughed a bit before I said, "I thought we could ask anything."


    There was a bit of silence between us before he cleared his throat.


    "I guess some dreams aren''t possible now," he said. "At least, not right now."


    Then he stood up suddenly. "You know what? Remind me in twenty years when we''re a lot older and the world will be back to normal, and let''s do it: camping, sightseeing, whatever-you-want in middle-of-nowhere Wyoming."


    And then he was back to normal Charles, not the more hopeless one that I''ve seen more and more, but just normal him, and I smiled. "How will we even keep in touch?"


    "I don''t know," he said. "Send letters in the wind, and destiny will bring them to each other."


    "That sounds like it comes from a cheesy romance movie," I said. "And plus, I think by then, cell phones will actually be working."


    "Cell phones better be working," he said before picking up his bag.


    "You have to leave?" I asked.


    "Yeah," he said. "I''ve got stuff to do for my parents, you know."


    I nodded. "I''ll see you next week?"


    "You better have your fourth wish down," he said to me as he walked down our porch stairs, facing back at me. "Consider your current one as a future wish."


    And then he walked down the street and disappeared into the sun, and with his talk about letters, I think I knew what my fourth wish was. I think I want to write a novel or a book. I''m not sure what, but I just want something for people to remember me by, like Mom and her sunsets and Mira and her collage. I guess I want to just have something permanent, so that in twenty years in the future, it''ll still be there, unchanged. I know that I have this diary, but I just want more than this, if that makes any sense.

 Chapter 18, Part 3

    August 31


    Today was a mostly quiet day.


    It was still quite busy. In the morning, Mira reported that the mustard seeds had germinated and grown thin roots, so it was probably time to plant them in the greenbox before they got too used to the wet towels that we stored them in. So that''s what May, and I were assigned to do in the morning while Mom, Mira, and Grandma worked with creating some sort of fertilizer with the kelp that was now stinking up the house.


    "How''d you manage your whole gardening job?" May asked as we scooped little germinating mustards and put them in the aluminum cans.


    "What is that supposed to mean?"


    "Gardening sucks," she said. "I had a dream where we were all eating oranges, but I''m starting to think that I don''t really want that if gardening is this much work."


    "Well, life is life," I said and formed an indent in the soil with my thumb. We were planting five mustard seeds per can since it would be a waste of space to do once per can.


    "Everyone says that all the time, but what does it even mean?"


    "I don''t know," I said. "I guess it''s just a way to condescend to younger people or dreams or who knows?"


    "I guess we''ll never find out since life is life," she said and brushed her hair before turning towards me. "Can you cover for me, next Tuesday?"


    "Why?"


    "I''m going on a solo mission," she replied. "To scope out one of the houses that was broken into. Maybe the people missed something."


    "That''s a terrible idea," I said. "How am I supposed to even cover for you? Mom won''t even let us leave the house, so I can''t use me visiting Charles or you visiting your friends as an excuse."


    "I don''t know," she said. "You''ll figure something out. Say I''m in the bathroom or something."


    "For a couple of hours?" I said in disbelief. "Mom would never believe you."


    "Mom and Dad barely pay attention anymore," she said. "They''re too busy giving each other cold glares and looking at the plants and just laying around¡ª"


    There were footsteps behind us, and I saw that Dad was dressed in his outdoor clothes, thick parka and pants, with the axe in his hand, a mask on his face, and the wagon in his other hand. May turned towards him "Where are you going?"


    "Wood-chopping."


    "Did Mom approve of this?"


    "It doesn''t matter," Dad said before opening the door and stepping out. "Just like she did what she thought was best for the family, I''m doing what I think is best."


    "Well, don''t die," May said.


    "I won''t," Dad replied gruffly before shutting the door with a slam that may have been a result of the wind or some sort of lingering anger.


    It was hard to tell, but as soon as he left, May turned back to me, and I said, "Well, even if I can cover you, it''ll be dangerous. There''s going to be glass everywhere and not to mention the militia. You could get shot."


    "They''re a night watch," she said. "They do night patrolling and not in the middle of the day. And plus, I have these things called eyes and ears, so I won''t die or anything from glass or guns or whatever."


    "I thought you didn''t want to die," I said. "Isn''t that why you literally stopped us from doing the rockfall¡ª"


    She cut me off. "You also stopped us from going, and anyways, that''s different. A landslide is just out of your control, and you can''t really stop it from happening because it just does, but this is different. I''d know when the militia is coming or if there is glass that I might step on."


    "I don''t know about this¡ª"


    "It''s not even illegal," she said. "Other people broke into the house, and I''m just taking the leftovers. And you''re not even doing it, so there''s literally no worry for you."


    "How will you tell Mom and Dad about the supplies that you find?"


    "I won''t," she said. "Not until later when they become desperate enough to see that what I''m doing is right. So will you do it?"


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    "I don''t know," I said. "We''ll see."


    "That''s good enough for me," she said, and we returned to our comfortable silence, spooning mustard roots into the canned soil and filling up the greenbox with little bits of life.


    Later on, Mom and the rest of them brought their kelp mixture for the plants. They ended up washing and shredding half of the kelp with scissors and are going to mulch the soil with it and the other half is currently fermenting in a bucket of water outside to make a liquid fertilizer for later on to help the plants grow. The rest of the day was pretty quiet. I picked up an old cowboy book and started reading it while Mom and Mira washed our week-long backlog of dishes before I was summoned to dry them.


    But it was at dinner when everything erupted.


    After weeks of soup, we finally got rice today, just a handful for everyone, along with one can of mixed vegetables for everyone. I managed to trade out all of the carrots from my can with May in exchange for her string beans without Mom and Dad catching us. Today was supposed to be our gratitude day, but no one was grateful for anything that happened these past few days.


    "So, does anyone want to start?" Dad asked.


    We looked up from our bowl of rice and steaming can of mixed vegetables before looking back down and spooning it into our mouths. May stuffed the rest of her food into her mouth and stood up. "Goodbye."


    Dad stood up. "Where do you think you''re going?"


    "It''s not like we have anything to be grateful about," she said. "And this is a stupid idea anyways."


    "Sit down right now," Dad said, louder and sterner, but May refused to move. I don''t know what''s gotten up with her since she seemed fine in the morning, and this wouldn''t even help with her whole plan to disappear under Mom and Dad''s radar.


    "No."


    "May," Dad said and raised his voice.


    "I''m already grounded for the rest of my life," she said. "Who cares?"


    "We need to do this," Dad said, though it was more like a shout. "To stick together as a family, so sit down and share."


    "No," May replied and crossed her arms. "It''s not like you and Mom have been helping keep this family together all week with your all-day all-night arguing."


    Dad crossed his arms and turned towards Mom. "Aren''t you going to back me up?"


    Mom shrugged and said, "I don''t think anyone is in the mood for this this week. Maybe next time."


    "This is supposed to be our family thing," Dad said. "And we can''t stop doing¡ª"


    "You made this," Mom said. "Not us. I know that you went wood-cutting today without even asking all of us, and you keep making unilateral decisions without even asking. We need to make decisions about things together. Not separately."


    "I''m doing what''s best for the family," Dad said. "Someone has to step up."


    "Stepping up is not dying," Mom said and their argument droned on and on and on. In most movies and TV shows, arguments move people forward, like they find some sort of solution to make it stop or they find some sort of middle ground compromise, but it seems like they keep arguing about the same things. Maybe this is what happens when you''re stuck with each other for a long time with more time in the future when everything new is exhausted and you''re only left with old grievances.


    You know, before Saturday, everything was going great. The sun was out, and this was supposed to be our week of celebration, of the sun and our garden and leaves and the sky and constellations and everything because we don''t know how long it''ll last or whether it''ll disappear tomorrow under a layer of ash as the cold returns and seeps whatever life we have away, one day at a time.


    September 1


    Today was a silent day.


    No one really talked to each other, like we were all walls. The most that Mom said to me and May was that we had to open up the textbook and read at least one chapter, but May was still mad from last night, so she just ignored Mom even though Mom took her side, and I was the only one that actually read my textbook.


    I flipped open the first chapter. It was an overview about the Earth, in all its blue glory punctuated by blobs of green and tan colored deserts like the Sahara. I don''t think Earth looks like this anymore. It''s probably more gray, maybe with a bit more orange from the volcanoes, but far less green and some more blue and a little less Florida.


    I tried reading the first few pages, I really did, but every time that I got through a few lines, my eyes would dart right back to the Earth and how great it used to look and how awful it must look now. Even though the textbook was made relatively recently, it already feels outdated, and at that moment, everything that I was reading about felt pointless, so I closed it to gather dust once again.


    Instead, I pulled out the set of colored pencils that I got and began sketching landscapes and filling them in with vivid colors. I tried showing some of my drawings to Mira, but the only response she gave me was an impersonal "Looks fine," so I kept my drawings to myself.


    I''ve also been drawing a lot of mountains lately, not our boring rolling hills filled with dead branches that will someday blossom with dull looking leaves, but from one of our old travel books about Western landscapes. The tall ice-capped mountains, the alpine woodlands and meadows saturated with green, and the lakes that seemed to reflect the shimmering skylight with the perfect amount of rippling. I know that I wouldn''t want to live there since it''s too cold, but there''s something beautiful about them.


    Frankly, I don''t know why I''ve become a bit obsessed about mountains since my conversation with Charles. I guess there''s something solitary and protected about them, like an escape from society and suffocation, unlike the beaches, open and probably full of people. Maybe it''ll give me some time to think.


    Because sometimes, I wonder if what I feel towards guys is actually real and not something that I''m making myself feel in order to feel special or something. I know that it sounds awful when writing it down, but it''s something that I think about. Can you convince yourself that you like someone even if you don''t really? I''d ask someone this, but that would be too much of a weird question for anyone but myself because it''s too personal and personal stuff is just weird to talk about.


    But still, I wish I knew. Maybe that''s why I''m thinking about mountains because I wonder if those people that wander and live in the Rockies for much of their lives know the answer, and I wonder if maybe some time to myself or maybe with Charles or something, I''ll find the answer, far from society and from judgement and everything. But I think, like he said, it''s not possible right now because there''s no running away from the moon and volcanoes.


    At least not now.


    Or ever.

 Chapter 18, Part 4

    September 2


    I finally worked up the courage to talk to Mira after a week of relative silence and terse replies. "Do you want to go to the library?"


    She shrugged before asking, "When?"


    "This afternoon," I said. "I''ll get it approved by Mom and everything. I just want to get some new books, you know."


    "Fine," she said and continued staring at the little cans that we put in the greenbox. The mustard plants have sprouted, and I could see tiny little leaves poking out from the dark soil, reaching for the artificial sunlight, powered by the real sunlight that, so far, hasn''t started fading away. It was bright and sunny outside, though a thick morning fog gave everyone a scare because they thought the ash blizzards had returned. But no, it was just normal, dreary fog.


    Mom was actually pretty alright with the both of us going out to the library but gave me the electric lighter. "What is this for?" I asked.


    "You can use it to taser someone," Mom said and turned it on, the end of the lighter sizzling with a bright white and blue electricity. "Just in case."


    "Does it even work?"


    "Hopefully," she said before turning back to starting outside of the kitchen window. The skies were still blue and clear, and I think she was savoring every moment of it while it lasted.


    There was this awkward silence between us while we were walking to the library, the sun losing its cheerful effect. Or maybe it still had it, but our frigid atmosphere was breaking it up, hurtling the positivity in a thousand different directions until they faded away far from us, alone and miserable. Even though both of us were there, it felt like a one-sided walk, me on the left and an ice statue gliding next to me on the right.


    "I''m sorry," I said.


    "I know," she replied. "But a thousand sorries doesn''t change it."


    "You have to understand¡ª"


    "I don''t understand," she said. "How can you just let everyone else sacrifice their lives for you while you just sit back and do nothing?"


    "It''s more complicated than that," I said, the thought of Charles and his family popping in my mind.


    "There''s nothing complicated about just putting a little help to make the community better for everyone," she said. "Including yourself."


    "But I mean what''s good about having people die, especially when death ripples¡ª"


    "I know what Mom said," Mira replied. "But think about all the people whose lives will be affected if the rockfall netting isn''t built on time or properly. We''re lucky that we have so much food, but many others don''t."


    "I know," I wanted to say. Charles and his family are starving. I know their pain and how, for the past two months, I''ve seen Charles get weaker and weaker, though lately that has stopped, probably because he''s close to the edge of starvation and just a step away from spiraling. But all I could manage was, "We have to look out for our own."


    That made Mira visibly angry, and I almost immediately regretted my choice of words. "I didn''t mean¡ª"


    "I understood it perfectly," Mira said. "How could you be like this? This isn''t the Neal that I knew from before all of this, the one that''d spend hours helping his little sister on homework and studying."


    I could feel the rush of emotions: guilt, anger, regret, and all those lies protecting the truth about Charles and his family, swirling together in my mind, my forehead flushed as I began feeling dizzy, stumbling a little, kicking up some ash. The same question repeated over and over in my mind, drowning out all my other thoughts: Should I tell her the truth? Should I tell her the truth? Should I tell her the truth?


    Was it worth it to keep all the lies? I knew that if I continued that it''d ruin my relationship with Mira, possibly forever, and it''s not like my conversation with her had made things better. It probably made things worse, cutting the rope between us to a fine thread, a couple of tugs away from snapping fully. But the alternative felt worse, the risk of Charles and his family starving to death because once a secret is out, it spreads like wildfire until everyone knows and is consumed.


    But when I looked into her eyes, I saw a devastating mixture of disappointment and anger, and I just couldn''t lose my older sister. Not when all I needed was to tell the truth, and I just hoped that Charles and his family wouldn''t get hurt when I''m trying to stitch Mira and me back.


    My heart thundering, I said, "I know someone who ran out of food."


    "Please, I have no time¡ª"


    "It''s Charles and his family," I said before letting out a big sigh of something that resembled relief. "They didn''t store up any food when everything started because they thought everything was going to be fine, until it wasn''t."


    "What?" Mira said and stopped walking. Ocean breezes kicked up ash between us, as I continued telling her the full, unvarnished truth.


    "I''ve been slipping them cans," I said. "Every week, about half a dozen cans for the past month or more, so that they can have enough energy to stay alive."


    "Well, why didn''t you tell me about this earlier?" she asked. "I mean, I could''ve¡ª"


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    "Helped?" I said before kicking a rock down the road. "Telling someone would be too dangerous. Imagine if Mom or Dad found out. They''d ban me from ever even seeing that pantry, and who knows what''s going to happen to Charles if that happened."


    Mira didn''t say anything as I continued. "I know what it''s like to see people without food. I see it every week with him. I didn''t tell you this, but when he came to your wedding, he threw up because he was so hungry that he couldn''t stop eating. And even though he hides it, I can see it."


    "I''m sorry."


    "And that''s what I meant about people I''ve got to look after," I said. "Because I''m looking after Charles and his family."


    And that was the end of my truthfulness. I thought I''d feel relieved or unburdened by my lies, but all I felt was a deep sense of dread, weighing me down worse than any lie had ever done. Instead of flying, I was stuck on the ground, two stones taped to my wings, a stone of lies and a bigger stone of the truth holding me down. If anyone ever found out about me giving food to Charles and taking me away from the pantry, I don''t know how I''d be able to live with myself.


    "You can''t tell Mom and Dad," I said.


    "I know. You said it already."


    "I''m serious," I replied. "If they found out... I just can''t risk it."


    "Your secret is safe with me," she said, and we began walking again, the frigid atmosphere between us warmed but the awkwardness still remained there, like a lingering smoke.


    We walked for a couple of minutes before she said, "I''m sorry. About what I said earlier when I said that you didn''t care."


    I shrugged. "It''s fine, whatever."


    "Okay," she said before taking a couple of more steps. "I''m really sorry."


    "You don''t need to keep apologizing," I replied. "And for the record, I would''ve gone to help."


    "I know," she said and for the rest of the way, we walked in silence. It was actually kinda warm today, maybe around sixty degrees in the middle of the afternoon. Still cold for summer, but much warmer than before, especially compared to the midday thirty-degree weather a couple weeks ago. But it did feel strange that, with the sun shining, there weren''t any birds chirping, not even during the morning hours when they usually chattered their beaks off. I wonder where they all went. I''d hope that at least some of them found their way south, but with all the ash in the air and their fragile lungs, maybe they''re all dead. Hopefully, that isn''t the case (even if I hate all those geese that poop on everyone''s'' heads).


    The library was actually open. I never actually knew whether the volunteer guy that came on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday was actually a real person, mostly because I always met up with Charles on Tuesday, but it turns out that he''s actually real. It''s a different guy from when we went to the library a long time ago, but the rules and procedures were the same, and once we got flashlights and lanterns, Mira and I split up to cover more ground. She went to look to see if there were any survival manuals that we had missed the first time while I browsed the contemporary literature section, hoping to find some interesting books to stave off boredom.


    None of the horror or historical fiction books interested me, so I turned to the next section, a long row of teen fiction and romance novels, and immediately, one book caught my eye. On the cover, there were two guys with hearts lining the outlines of their lean figures, and my heart pounded as I reached for the book. I''d never really read any books about guys liking other guys. Maybe it was just because my library didn''t have any of those books or maybe it was just because I tried avoiding them to avoid feeling the way that I feel and just the weirdness that comes with it.


    But for some reason, I grabbed the book and put it in my bag. And then I went through the section, grabbing five books, ranging from rom-com to serious coming-of-age stories, about guys who like other guys. I''m not sure why I did this. Maybe it was because I wanted to expand my reading horizons, especially since it''s the end of the world. But I guess I wanted to just find help for everything that I''m feeling, and maybe in these books, I''ll be able to see if what I''m feeling is really true or if it''s something that I''m making up or just trying to convince myself to have. I think I''m searching for validity, like whether what I''m feeling is actually possible in other people, so that I''m not so alone in figuring things out.


    I did dump about ten or so fantasy books that I''d never read on top of my six choices, just to hide them away from Mira, so that she wouldn''t think I was being too weird or whether this was my whole identity thing. I know it''s a contradiction for me to hide my emotions from Mira while wanting to be less alone in figuring stuff out, but it''s more like I want people like me, guys who might be interested in other guys, to be together with, not so much Mira as much as she wants to help. It''ll be too complicated, and I guess I don''t want to really make any decisions or conclusions about this sort of stuff with another person hovering over my head. And plus, it''s just too personal too.


    Luckily for me, I never even had to take the books out for checkout since barely any books had been returned, and the volunteer guy was sick of spending hours scouring the shelves in the dark to find the right place to put the books, so there was one less person to reveal my secret too. Even though I just wanted to open a book and dive right into the story, I was worried that Mira would find out and our already awkward atmosphere would get even more awkward. So I fidgeted my fingers as my mind wandered and sunlight filtered through the heavily tinted library windows.


    She found some wild Alaska biographies, a couple baking recipe books, and some environmentalist memoirs. "Hopefully, they''ll have something on them," she said. "All of the useful books were taken."


    The walk home was better than the way there since there was a lot less pressure to talk when we were sweating and panting hard as we lugged fifteen-pound backpacks on the walk home. The silence, only punctuated by frequent "Wait, I need to take a bit of a break" or "Slow down"s, was pleasant, and with the sun shining on both of us, it was probably the best day of the week, relatively speaking.


    When we got home and Mira went to take a shower, I quickly took out all of my books and stuffed my contraband, books spines facing inwards, on the top-most shelf, where no one but Dad and I could reach, and when she finished showering, I grabbed one book and put it deep in the bathroom cabinet alongside that magazine. Locking the door behind me, I opened the book and read the first few pages, starting off with an awkward coffee shop meeting, before turning to go shower.


    Dinner was okay, and Mom and Dad mostly ignored each other instead of fighting. I guess it was nice to end this chaotic week in a very pleasantly boring way. Hopefully, good things come next week.


    Midnight edit -


    It''s technically "tomorrow", but it still feels like "today." Thank goodness that no one was injured, and that the ceiling and walls were strong enough to not collapse on us. Mom and Dad have a flashlight right now, scouring through the cans and making sure that there weren''t any broken glass jars that they had missed. We lost some of Leon''s jams and pickles, but it could''ve been worse.


    This earthquake wasn''t like anything I''ve ever felt before, nothing like the rattling of dishes in the beginning of June or the troubles that we had felt this week. It was like a roar, like the Earth was opening up a rift that threatened to swallow all of us whole, and for a second, I thought all of this would be over, and I''d be meeting the darkness. I had heard some crashing of bricks, probably from the houses that were built before the newer earthquake standards, and the sounds of the rushing waves seemed to get louder before becoming softer and fading away. I hope that Charles and his family are alright. Please be alright.

 Chapter 19, Part 1

    September 3


    No water. No heat. No food.


    We are so screwed.


    In the early morning, after we had spent all night checking and sorting the pantry after the glass jars shattered all over the shelves and floors, I tried turning on the faucet to clean my hands of the jelly and jam juice coating my fingers while wetting some towels to wipe the sticky juice off the floor, but there was no water. I went to the bathroom to see if there was water, but nothing. Same thing with the sink in the laundry room. I even checked the garden faucet. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.


    "We don''t have any water," I told Dad.


    "I know," he said. "All the pipes must have ruptured. Both the stove and the heater aren''t working either."


    "What are we going to do?" I asked.


    "I don''t know," he said before calling out for Mom to get the heater for the greenbox, which was slowly becoming cooler before turning back to me. "Can you go get some firewood from the garage along with some of the twigs and leaves?"


    "Sure," I said before remembering. "What about the food drive today?"


    Dad swore before standing on a dining table chair and announcing, "We''ve got to go to the food drive. Maybe they will have some information."


    Mom said, "I''ll grab everyone''s masks and tell my parents to get ready. Kids, get your socks and wear your shoes. Hurry up! We don''t want to miss any food, especially because of the earthquakes."


    So we all sprung into action, the coldness that plagued us this week dissolving. It''s the one good thing about chaos and destruction, where there just isn''t enough free time to waste your breath arguing and fighting. Everyone is just all action, all movement, and getting things done. We managed to get dressed and out of the house in less than five minutes.


    After some minutes, as we neared the food drive, we could hear the chants and questions of everyone clumped together in the plaza echoing throughout the streets. There was this uncontrollable anger and fear in the air, and Mom looked at all of us before saying, "Stick together. It''s dangerous out there, but we need the information."


    "Should I go out first?" Dad asked. "Scout out the situation to see if we should just head back."


    "No," Mom said. "In these situations, being alone can make you a target. Some of those people out there are crazed, starved animals, and they are unpredictable."


    "They''re people, Mom," Mira interjected. "Not animals."


    "And people are unpredictable," she replied. "Like animals."


    Ambulance blares filled the air and when I looked up, I could see plumes of smoke drifting throughout the sky, like each house was a small volcano. There were people on the sidewalks, crying in front of their collapsed houses, faces bruised and bloodied. Mom and Dad ushered us away from them and told us not to look at them in their eyes, but I felt sorry for them. I wanted to help, but I couldn''t.


    As we neared the plaza, I could better make out what they were saying, the cries and chants mixed up in a swirl of sound. There was an underlying chant: "We need food. We need water. We need heat," punctuated by a smattering of questions: "When will the water return? Is firewood going to be provided? Can we get gasoline, please?" and cries of desperation and anger: "Fix the damn pipes! Please, I''ve got children and grandparents. We paid all these taxes for you; now deliver! May God save us all. To Hell with God!"


    We stayed clumped together as people formed clumps that morphed into swirling stampedes, kicking up ash into the air as a manmade mist descended upon us. May''s eyes were wildly darting around with panic, and Mom was holding her steady while Mira and Dad stood guard around Grandma and Grandpa. I mostly looked around, hoping to see a glimpse of Charles in the crowd, but it''s hard to tell when visibility is blurry and everyone''s wearing masks.


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    Suddenly, there was a crackling of static and the crowd quieted down for a moment before going back to their chants. The announcer then said, "Quiet everyone!"


    But no one listened until the second crackling of static as his voice boomed throughout the plaza, "I have new information."


    That''s what got everyone. Even the most angry people and the most desperate all quieted down, waiting to hear what he had to say. I guess everyone was scared and helpless and just wanted to know what to expect next because at this point, no one had a clue about what''s coming after the ruptures of the pipes and collapse of people''s houses.


    "But you all need to listen very carefully," the announcer said. "Last week, unfortunately, we were unable to complete the installation of the rockfall netting, and because of the lack of volunteers throughout the week, we were unable to complete the netting before this earthquake."


    There were murmurs in the chat, but I think practically everyone knew what he was about to say, and when the announcer said it, it only crystallized everyone''s fears. "The final mountain path got buried and the other two experienced more collapses. As of the moment, we do not have access to the food delivery trucks, but our members are working hard in Sacramento to give us access to the food."


    There was a flurry of conversation.


    "Are we going to have to cut down on more food?" May asked.


    "I don''t know," Mom replied. "I don''t know."


    "At this rate, I''m going to shrivel up and die," May said before giving me a look (like the type of look when she is planning something that''ll likely involve me lying a bunch) before Mira hopped into the conversation, "We should''ve helped."


    "There''s nothing that could''ve been done," Mom replied. "One or two extra places partially secured wouldn''t have made a difference."


    "It could''ve," Mira said. "We all could''ve helped."


    "What if the earthquake had happened last Saturday when you were out there?" Mom asked. "You could''ve died. It''s better this way."


    "I agree with your Mom here," Dad said, standing next to Mom. "So stop beating yourself over what you could''ve done and start doing something right now. We''ve got lots of work to do today at home."


    "We should be helping people," Mira replied, as her argument fizzled in front of our united parents.


    I turned towards her. "We''ve got to help ourselves first."


    I think she knew what I meant about Charles and his family, where we''ve got to help our own family first before helping other people like his family, sort of like the mask on first in an airplane before helping another person. But when she turned away, I knew she wasn''t satisfied with just doing that, but who knows what she is going to do more? With my secret out, I can only hope that she doesn''t follow in my footsteps for other people because even though it''s right and moral and good, I don''t know if we can afford it.


    "But, in the meantime, families with more food and supplies, please donate them to the less fortunate," the announcer said. "We need to survive together, as a whole community, or it''s going to get bad, and we need things to stay good. So please, I am begging you, donate food for the less fortunate, in the anonymous bins that we have set up in front of city hall."


    "But what if there is no food?" a skinny woman asked as we walked out from the crowd to face the announcer. "I''ve got sick kids at home."


    "There will be food," the announcer said. "I know it."


    But he didn''t sound very convinced, and everyone knew it because he was bombarded by questions about power, about water, about ash, about masks, about virtually everything. The two security guards, armed with nothing but a handgun and some mace spray stood in front of him, as he answered the crowd''s questions with hesitancy.


    "We are working on fixing the water and natural gas pipelines. Expect them to return in a month or so," he said, but everyone knew it was a lie because that was too good to be true and felt like fake assurance. Before, it was a big deal to lose power for even a couple of hours, but now, losing water and natural gas for a month only feels like a fake bargain. "In the meantime, we are working on printing guides about the purification of water and how to create safe heat in homes that can be picked up this Wednesday at City Hall."


    People began shouting all sorts of questions at him, mostly about water usage and about gasoline and about whether or not there was going to be a drive for heavy coats and batteries, but he mostly ignored them, heading back into the security of the building before him.


    Just when he was in front of the door, he said, "There will be a town hall meeting next Saturday to answer all of your questions in a safe and controlled environment. In the meantime, for those who are unaware, make sure to check the postal office for letters from your loved ones. I know it''s a bit unexpected, but we were getting letters shipped in with the food shipments. We haven''t been able to deliver them to your homes due to gasoline shortages, so make sure to see if you''ve received one before the office closes next week. Stay safe, stay healthy, and keep your hopes up."


    He then disappeared through the city hall doors with the two security guards following him closely as someone shouted, "Pig!"


    "He looks like he has a feast every day," another person jeered, and there was a resounding applause in the front.


    Someone shouted an expletive and people whooped along before people began joining a chant that resounded throughout the plaza: "Pig! Pig! Pig!" Mom and Dad looked around, panic glazing their eyes. There were people at the edges, stragglers trying to leave the roaring crowd to escape the anger and fear.


    "We should go," Mom said.


    "Wait," Dad said and put his hand on her shoulder, which was a good thing for what happened after.

 Chapter 19, Part 2

    There was an East Asian couple, like Mom, about twenty or so footsteps away from us, trying to get away from the crowd and peel themselves away from the angry mob. They didn''t look like they were doing great, the woman had a clear limp, but they were wearing nicer clothes (the woman had one of those puffy jackets on), and a small group of guys noticed that they were trying to leave.


    "Hey, where do you think you''re going?" One of the men in the group shouted.


    "Home," the middle-aged man said with a strong accent as his wife stood by his side.


    "Home," another man in that group sneered. "You''ve got a lot of food, don''t you, if you''re not staying here to protest these city council pigs."


    "Let''s go," the man said to his wife, but she wasn''t moving very fast because of her limp and a third man grabbed her jacket.


    "Mind if I borrow it?" he asked, though it was more like a threat, and the woman shoved him off. "Get your dirty paws off of me!"


    The man shouted some expletives at her, and soon the shoving and tripping and jeering morphed into full on hitting and kicking them, saying things like: "Get out of our country" and "You don''t deserve any food, you foreigners." There was blood everywhere, dripping across the floor and smearing their jeans and the couple was looking at us and the people around us for help, but no one did anything, and we all just stood there in fear of being attacked next, dumbfounded and wondering how everything got to this in just a couple of months. I know that there''s always been a lot grumbling about rich East Asian, especially Chinese, families moving into the city in recent years, but I never expected in a million years that it''d explode into this ugliness, one that I was terrified was going to target Mom next.


    Dad looked at us. "We''ve got to go. Now! While we still can."


    We all hustled away, trying not to look into the couples'' eyes, but Mira was stuck in place. I would be too, if it weren''t the adrenaline rushing through my veins and the beating of my heart that threatened to blow my chest open. I grabbed Mira''s hand and pulled her away even though she resisted a bit because we just had to go, and we couldn''t risk helping and getting hurt, so we left them, bloodied and bruised and probably dead in the near future, just lying on the ground.


    If there is some higher power, we''re probably going to pay for not helping them since, like school taught me, being a bystander is about as bad as being the ones who did it. And in a way, I guess I did it by pulling Mira away instead of letting her maybe help or do something she wanted to do to stop this, and if they die, I wonder if it''s my fault. But if Mira got hurt and died like they did when she tried breaking them apart, it would be my fault too. There was really no win-win situation here in the eyes of the world, wasn''t there?


    We had some spare tap water in a water pitcher, so we didn''t need to go to the creek to gather water, but Dad said that we were doing that on Monday along with the tree cutting. Mom and Dad managed to get the fireplace working without burning down the house, and we began burning the wood that we had stored up, maybe one and a half month''s worth since we have to run the fire every day, all day. Sometime in the afternoon, May said, "I need to use the bathroom."


    "I''ll go get a bucket," Dad said and left for the garage.


    "A bucket," May said before sitting back down uncomfortably and fidgeting. "I think I''d rather wait for the water to come back."


    "It''s not coming back," Mom said. "And if you have an accident, I''m not cleaning it up."


    Dad returned from the garage with a five-gallon bucket, and May looked at it. "How am I going to pee in this bucket?"


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    "You''ll figure it out," Dad said.


    "This is so disgusting."


    "Well, that''s life."


    "Screw life."


    "Screw life," Dad said, muttering under this breath. "Now go."


    As May disappeared into the bathroom, complaining under her breath, I turned to Mom and Dad. "How are we, you know, going to get rid of it?"


    "The garden?" Dad suggested. "For the pee."


    "And for the other?"


    "Maybe the old garbage can we still have rolled out there," Mom suggested. "If we put it in the garden, we''ll probably contaminate the water supply, and we can''t have that."


    "What about the smell," Dad said. "It might be better to bury it."


    "We can put the garbage can into the Hunters'' yard," Mom replied. "I''m sure they won''t mind. Burying it doesn''t solve the water contamination problem and digging holes every time is too much work."


    "I''m done," May said and exited the bathroom, holding the bucket gingerly in her hands. "That was dehumanizing."


    "Without technology, we truly are animals," I wanted to say but didn''t. In the afternoon, we ended up setting up the bathroom system, Mom pulling our garbage cans into the Hunters'' house as Dad took out the rubber gloves and cleaning wipes, we had stored to clean the bucket every time a person used the bathroom. Also, to stave off bad habits, he taped the toilet shut with thin blue tape and a sign, so that we wouldn''t inadvertently use it.


    While Mom and Dad were working on setting up the greenbox to accommodate the fireplace and preparing seeds to be grown in the greenbox (we''re germinating peas by the fireplace right now), I noticed that Mira was completely absent. And when I saw her, she was sitting in our room and staring at the wall.


    "What''s wrong?" I asked.


    "You know what''s wrong," Mira replied. "I mean we just left them there."


    "I know," I said. "But, you know, I guess we had to."


    "We should''ve done something," she said. "I should''ve done something at least. I know Mom''s only looking out for all of us, but I want more than that."


    "I know but helping would''ve just got you hurt."


    "Who cares about me?" she said loudly. "Care about the people who actually got hurt."


    "I do, you know," I said. "It''s really bad what happened to them, and I can''t stop thinking about it, but there''s nothing we can do."


    "We could go to the hospital," she said. "Maybe they''re there. And give them flowers, so that they know that someone is looking out for them."


    "The only problem with your plan is what flowers?" I said. "With the whole ashfall."


    "Oh," she said. "Maybe a card or something else to make them feel better."


    "I guess, if you want to," I said. "It might be a little weird since they are complete strangers."


    "Well, they might feel better knowing that a stranger actually cared about them."


    "Maybe," I said. "The problem is Mom and Dad, you know."


    "I''ll just tell them that we are going to the hospital tomorrow just to scope out the situation. Maybe tell Mom that there might be dental work possible there since our teeth are probably cavity-filled."


    "That sounds like a good plan," I said before almost saying that it reminded me of one of May''s plans before remembering that Mira doesn''t know about them, not yet anyways. "But, you know that you''re lying to Mom and Dad?"


    "I mean we are going to go and check out the hospital," she replied. "And it''s not something serious. It''s just handing a card."


    I nodded and then she nodded and then we both stared at the bed sheets before I left the room. It''s just weird to see Mira justify her lies like that because she''s always preaching truth and openness. But I guess people change, and I guess she''s changing even though she says that she''s not.


    During dinner, everyone talked a little over a couple of fireplace heated corn cans before Dad announced that we were finally moving into the living room to sleep tomorrow since the heaters are gone from the loss of natural gas, and that we should enjoy our last day of privacy.


    To be honest, I had completely forgotten about the move to the living room. I don''t know how I''m going to do it and get food to Charles with people living, breathing, and doing life all right next to the pantry. I thought I had more time to plan something out, but this earthquake killed everything, and without the food deliveries, Mom and Dad are probably going to be looking at the food situation super closely, so it''s even more likely that I''m going to get caught.


    My only chance could be with Mira. Maybe telling her my secret wasn''t such a bad idea and she could cover me or keep watch for everyone else while I filled up my bag for Charles. I think that''s what she''d want, to help someone in need. But there''s something in me that''s saying that this''ll end in disaster because that''s what happens when you trust someone with a secret.


    Secrets are supposed to be for one, but they better make room for another person.

 Chapter 19, Part 3

    September 4


    We created a card all morning. Mira''s not a great artist just like May, and her attempts to draw flowers were spectacular failures, looking like cartoony blobs of things that vaguely resembled petals, so I took over. I drew giant sunflowers and little daisies and long stalks of lavender and petite tulips and the pearly puff heads of clover blossoms while she wrote a short message of hope in long, loopy cursive:


    Stay strong. Our family is wishing for your recovery.


    "Is that too Pinterest-like," Mira said. "I feel like they might think that I stole it from there."


    "I mean, it''s a little cheesy," I said, and Mira gave me a little push on the shoulder and chuckled. "But it''s too late, and plus, one perk of having no internet is that no one will ever find out."


    "Thanks for the encouragement," she said sarcastically.


    "No problem," I said. "Always here to help."


    "Some help," she said and rolled her eyes playfully. "I never understood how people draw so well."


    I shrugged. "I can''t draw humans though."


    "Who cares?" she said. "You can draw flowers, and right now, that''s all that we need."


    And all of the talk about flowers reminded me of that dream that I had. I had tried making that dream happen again that next day, wishing that I could have a sequel because I need to figure myself out and what better way to do that than through a dream. There are no consequences, and everything''s private if I change my mind, and there''s no risk of anything going wrong. And plus, dreams are unrealistic and mystical, and maybe that''s what I need in my life. Maybe I''ll try willing it to happen again, so that I can finally sort myself out.


    Sometime around noon, Mira asked Mom if she could go to the hospital.


    "Maybe there will be some dental service," Mira said. "If things were normal, we''d probably be getting our teeth checked around this time, and this might be a good chance to make sure any cavities get fixed."


    "That''s a good idea," Mom replied. "But it''s going to be dangerous, especially with flu season coming up. It might be too risky."


    "We''re going to be in a hospital," Mira replied. "There are doctors everywhere. We''ll be fine."


    "Okay," Mom said. "Straight to the hospital and back. No detours, no scenic paths, nothing"


    "One detour," Mira said. "I''m going to go check the post office to see if maybe I got a letter."


    Mom''s face softened, and I think she knew who that letter might be from. "Okay. One detour only, but you both better be home in time or else¡ª"


    "We''ll get grounded for life. We know, Mom. You''ve said it about a thousand times," Mira said and grabbed a mask and coat. I think even she was getting a bit tired about Mom''s whole safety all the time schtick.


    "If there are too many people," Mom said. "Don''t go there. After what happened yesterday, I don''t want you both to get hurt. Just keep your head down and back away, and don''t get involved in any fight. We look out for each other first."


    Mira nodded even though she probably believed in very little of what Mom was saying, and armed with little more than our lighter taser that was only at around sixty percent battery, we set off to the hospital. The skies were still clear, and there were wispy icy clouds rimmed with pale blue drifting across the sea above us. It''s a good thing that this sea isn''t trying to kill us.


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    The walk to the hospital took probably close to an hour or so. It used to be only a fifteen-minute drive, and it would''ve been maybe a twenty-five-minute bike trip, but Mira said no to that because like Mom said, we didn''t want to stick out, and a part of her was probably worried about what she saw yesterday. Even when I close my eyes, I can still see them, lying on the ground and bloodied and bruised, and I could remember that man''s hand going towards his wife''s, trying to hold hers. I think I''m making that last part up. When you think of a memory too much, sometimes the details get mixed up.


    When we were a couple of minutes away from the hospital, we caught a glimpse of the building, a shining steel and glass structure that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. When we reached there, there was something odd about it, the first two floors filled with light while the rest of the hospital was dark, though there were ambulances everywhere for some reason. I think even they were affected by the electricity and gasoline cuts.


    When we entered (the normally automatically opening glass doors needing to be opened manually), an exhausted desk attendant greeted us along with two security guards, both seeming to be barely out of college age.


    "Hello," the desk attendant said wearily. "What''s your emergency?"


    "Nothing," Mira said. "We''re just here to deliver a card."


    The attendant seemed relieved. "Thank God. I thought we had another landslide victim."


    "Landslide victim?" Mira asked.


    The attendant looked up, hesitant to answer, before pushing the top of her pen and saying, "Who''s the letter for? Are you friends or family?"


    "Neither," Mira said. "Our family just wants to make sure that they''re alright."


    "Description please?"


    "Middle-aged. East Asian couple," Mira said. "They might have come in yesterday."


    There was an awkward silence in the room. The desk attendant stopped writing with her pen and looked up. "Were they the attack victims?"


    "Yes," Mira said. "Is¡ª Is there something wrong."


    The attendant looked from side to side. The buzzing of the fluorescent light intensified, and the bright white hospital walls seemed to grow larger as the silence strayed for too many moments too long. She took a deep breath. "They passed away yesterday."


    "Oh..." Mira said, and the card seems to slip from her fingers. I was shocked too because I didn''t expect this to happen, you know. Except for that time when there was a rampaging shooter a long time back in elementary school, no one has been killed in our city for a long time, and for some people to die in front of our eyes, it''s like, just pretty insane. I don''t know any other way to say that other than it''s just so shocking and so weird and just so unreal. And it just reminds me of the time that I saw the corpse that washed up in the flooded neighborhood, and even in the hospital, so far away from the ocean, I could taste the bits of brine and rotting kelp and death, with a hint of iron.


    "I can take the card though," she said. "They might have family or relatives nearby. It''ll provide them some hope, that people have still got a shred of humanity left."


    Mira handed her the card, and she looked a bit numb and in shock, much more than me. I think it might be because I''ve already had my run-in with death, but I think there''s more to it that I don''t know.


    "Have they caught the people who did it?" Mira asked.


    The attendant shook her head. "The police have long moved on. After their department had their power cut about a month back, pretty much all of them packed their bags and took whatever gasoline they had left and got the hell out of town."


    "So they''re just let go, scot-free."


    "Sadly," the attendant said with a heavy sigh but added with a bit more edge and energy. "But someday, karma''s going to get them, but right now, the only laws still enforced are from the people with guns."


    "Yeah," Mira said, that word trailing off into the air. "Thank you."


    "No, thanks to both of you," she said and picked up her clipboard as the doors behind us opened with a loud squeak, and we could hear the shuffling of heavy footsteps. "Stay safe out there, and make sure to wash your hands often."


    After we waved goodbye, I looked back. The saggy eyes, the gaunt face, the thin voice and the way her hands trembled a little as she gripped the pen, I saw all of these with the attendant, the same symptoms that I saw with Charles before I started slipping him food. I wonder if this might be the last time that I see her, and I think Mira knows that too even if her mind is too preoccupied with the couple''s death. She seemed like a nice person, and hopefully, if she believed in the afterlife, there would be a nice place for her to go because that''s the best we can hope for right now.

 Chapter 19, Part 4

    As we walked back, I said, "We can go to the post office later, if you want to, you know, process everything."


    She started walking a bit slower. "I thought they were going to be alright. At worst, a couple of broken ribs."


    "I think we all thought that," I replied. "And you know, you shouldn''t blame yourself for this because it''s pointless."


    "But I can''t," she said and turned to me. "Sometimes, I wish that I could care less¡ª"


    "Don''t say that," I said, cutting her off, but she cut me off right after.


    "It''s the truth," she said. "But I care a lot. Maybe it''s because I can''t stand to lose another person again, even if that person is a complete stranger or maybe it''s because I can''t keep surviving like this, just looking out for ourselves. Life just feels so pointless sometimes because I feel like we''re living like machines and robots instead of the people we are."


    I didn''t know how to respond to what she just said, mostly because sometimes, I feel this way too, like there''s just not a whole lot to life anymore. But, you know, she had a vision about where her life was going in her previous life, even if Mom and Dad didn''t really agree with it, and life opening up once again seems like too much. It''s like life feels so restrictive and so bare bones right now, but that feels better than before because when you have to make choices, it just always comes with regret, and I even know what I''m saying now. I guess it''s just because the whole situation feels like it''s coming from some dramatic movie or TV show instead of real life.


    The rest of the walk was silent, as branches rustled against each other, and boot print stamped leaves drifted in the air with the breeze and tiny grains of ash slipped between the cracks in the road formed from the earthquake. When we arrived at the post office, there was a little more pep in her step, maybe because the thought of receiving a letter from Leon had crowded all the other thoughts in her mind.


    There wasn''t a big line there, maybe only a couple of people, but it was pretty clear that there was a huge line yesterday, judging by the orange cones lining the sidewalks and zig-zagging the now empty parking lot. It''s weird how instead of preparing water or defending their homes, people were spending lots of time waiting for letters from people far away. Maybe that''s what hope looks like.


    When we entered the post shop, there were bins of letters and packages everywhere, splayed across the floor, as one lonely worker picked up the letters and moved them into the corners, and when Mira told them Leon''s last name, the worker pointed us to a corner, and said that the letters should be somewhere there. Apparently, according to the worker, yesterday, a mob of people stormed the line, and everything devolved into chaos after a few minutes of peace, so that''s why everything is scattered everywhere.


    So we dug into the pile and began sifting through the postcards and letters. I flipped over postcards, some with Yosemite emblazoning them, others with the Rockies and shaggy bison, and some with bright splashes of orange trees and palm fronds. I flipped over one of the cards with a picture of Devil''s Tower on it with the date of May 18th on it with a short message:


    You open for fishing this weekend? It''s been a while, and I miss you. - JT


    I wonder if they ever got the chance to fish, but I doubt it since this letter was probably sent before everything happened and whomever it was sent to didn''t pick it up. Maybe that''s what I''ll write my story about to try to give them a happy ending, even if it''s just in my imagination. This might be the way that I help make sure people aren''t forgotten. I don''t know why but I started flipping over lots of postcards, reading the short messages written on them that were never received.


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    Your daughter and I are staying at your father''s old cabin. I know that everything didn''t end well last time, but don''t do this to our daughter. Come home. - Annie, dated August 17th.


    Will you marry me, Nick? I know we''ve only met online and on letters, but I want to do it even if it''s across mail. I love you, and I promise, we''ll have a better one when things get better - Kyle, dated July 23rd.


    I''m so sorry. We tried to protect her, but we couldn''t do it. She''s laying under the cottonwood with the swing on it. She said it was her favorite place in the world. I''m so sorry - Jim, dated August 3rd.


    Surprised the post still works. Typical government prioritizing letters over people. Stay strong sis, and like Daddy used to say, you ain''t done ''til you''re done - Lilith, dated August 6th.


    Take off that stupid hat of yours - CJ, dated June 25th.


    Add just a bit of egg whites and baking powder. That''s the secret to my grandma''s hardtack. It''s forever food, but don''t burn down the house. Love you Liam. - Mom, dated July 18th.


    Just because the world''s ending doesn''t mean that I want you back. I never want to see your sorry face or read another whiny letter. - your not-girlfriend, dated August 11th.


    I''m waiting for you, where we first met under the redwoods. If you truly meant forever, here''s our chance. I''m sorry for everything, but I''m asking to give us another chance. I''ll be there until October. - Taylor, dated July 30th.


    There were hundreds of other letters lying sprawled across the floor, with inside jokes and messages of hope and recipes and micro-stories and cries of love and despair. I wanted to take some of these letters with me, so that maybe someone will at least know that someone got their message. But there still was a possibility that someone would pick up these postcards, so I organized them based on alphabetical order and left them there for another person to look through. Maybe they''ll be able to find each other. I can only hope.


    As I was organizing the letters and postcards, I noticed that Mira had gone quiet and that the shuffling of papers in her corner had stopped. She had opened a letter and was reading it with a bittersweet smile, her hand trembling a little, and that''s when I knew that that was Leon''s letter, so I moved a bit away from her and picked up the scattered postcards to give her a bit of privacy. And when she was done, she carefully put the letter back into its envelope, and when I asked her about it, she just nodded, and that was good enough for all of us. Sometimes, words can''t express the way that we feel completely.


    The walk home was quiet, but the good type of quiet, and I could see that Mira was a bit distracted, either thinking about the letter or maybe formulating some plan to help, but whatever it was, I don''t think she was thinking about the couple that had died, at least at that moment. There was too much pep in her step, and I think the letter brought some optimism in her life because when I asked her what she was thinking about, she said that she''s ready to change the world, whatever that means.


    When we got home, the whole living room had changed. All the mattresses were laid around the fireplace, albeit far enough that we didn''t catch on fire accidentally, and the greenbox moved next to the window close to the fireplace as everyone settled into place. I was going to go shower when I realized that we didn''t have any showers anymore, and Dad said that we didn''t have much tap water left, so everyone could go and shower tomorrow. Apparently, he and Mom are now working very well together because they even devised a system of heating the water using hot stones instead of boiling the water directly since it would take too long.


    Dinner was soup again, though I noticed that Mom and Dad were eating only about three-fourths of a bowl instead of the full bowl that they gave out to the rest of us. It took a long time to boil the water and make the soup because Mom and Dad weren''t really sure if the rock heating method was safe for water to be eaten, so we ended up letting it sit next to the fire for about half-an-hour or so until it started bubbling. They added some corn and powdered garlic for flavor before serving us.


    I just remembered that I''ve got to sneak food out to Charles somehow. I think it might do it tomorrow while Mom and Dad are distracted by the wood-chopping and water gathering that we need to do. It''s going to be a long and painful day, but at least we''re not going to be starving. I can''t even imagine how Charles and his family are going to be able to gather wood and water on empty stomachs.

 Chapter 19, Part 5

    September 5


    I just realized that it was the one-month anniversary of Mira and Leon''s wedding.


    I know it''s not as special as a year-long anniversary, but who knows how we''re going to be in a year, so might as well enjoy it right now. I think that might have been in Mira''s mind when she left May and I some time around two o''clock and returned later in the evening with a handgun in her holster and an announcement that she''ll be out every night from midafternoon to sunset patrolling the streets.


    Anyways, going back to the beginning of the day, instead of handing us canvas bags for gathering kindling, Dad handed Mira, May, and I plastic buckets.


    "What are these for?" May asked and eyed the buckets suspiciously. I think she thought that we were doing something with poop.


    I had to clean my own bucket this morning after I finally used the restroom after two days of keeping it in. I nearly vomited at the smell, and even with the rubber gloves on, it still was disgusting and uncomfortable. When I went to dump it into the allotted trash can, Mom told me to put a couple of scoops of ash on it. Apparently, it''ll help with the smell, acting kinda like sawdust.


    "Your mom and I decided that we''re splitting up the work today," Dad said. "We''ve got enough kindling to last a lifetime, and we badly need wood and water, so you three are going to get water while your mom and I get wood."


    "I want you guys to get at least fifteen buckets today in total. Five for each person," Dad said.


    "Fifteen," May shouted. "Are you trying to kill us?"


    "The walk to the creek is only ten minutes," Dad said, and with the three of you, you won''t be out for more than two hours.


    "Can we get the wagon at least," May said, practically begging.


    Dad shook his head. "Your Mom and I are taking the wagon. We''re going to be in the woods all day gathering timber for the winter. The weather''s good right now. Sunny and not too hot and too cold, so we''re planning on spending all of today and tomorrow with the wood."


    "But what about the ash?"


    "We''ll be fine," Dad said. "You guys just make sure to get the water and take a shower. This living room stinks."


    "Maybe go and scavenge a bottle of Febreze," May said, testing the waters with Mom and Dad to see how mad they''ll get if they find out we''ve been taking stuff from the Hunters. "One of those downtown stores or abandoned houses might have them."


    "I''ll check our garage to see if we have a bottle," Dad said, completely ignoring May''s probing statement, and left the room. But that was definitely a non-response to her inquiry since we''ve never bought a bottle of Febreze ever in our lifetime since Dad was very much into the organic lifestyle, and for a second, May looked a bit scared. Was Dad purposely avoiding the question because he knew that it was something that we''d need to be doing in the future or was he avoiding it because he didn''t consider scavenging to be an option at all? These are the times when better communication would solve everything, but better communication will expose May''s and my secrets, and we can''t risk that.


    Five minutes after Mom and Dad left for wood-gathering, Mira, May, and I had gathered our buckets and put on our thick jackets and masks. Mira had updated Grandma, who was practicing memorizing things like the Declaration of Independence and Bill of Rights for her citizenship test, and Grandpa, who was make little fishing baits out of bits of plastic in our drawers, about what''s happening since she''s the only one out of the three of us that spoke halfway decent Chinese.


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    And when we stepped out into the sunlight, I announced, "We''re like the three musketeers."


    "With buckets," May drily added. "We couldn''t even get something a little bit cool like swords."


    "Our buckets are our swords," I said. "We''ll bucket people to oblivion."


    "That''s like spooning someone to death," she replied and began walking towards the creek. "C''mon. I just want to get this over with."


    Five minutes later, she was already complaining about everything. "How much longer?"


    "We''ll get there faster if you spend more energy walking and less energy talking," I said.


    She groaned and shuffled her feet, dragging the plastic bucket behind her with a loud scrape, as grit and ash eroded the hard plastic slowly. "You know, literally everyone in the neighborhood can hear you right. And who knows who will be watching?"


    She huffed and then lifted the bucket and carried it as I turned to her with a follow up. "When''d you start caring so much?"


    "About what?"


    "You know what?" I asked. "Death and stuff. You used to be so sarcastic all the time."


    She shrugged. "Why do you care?"


    "I don''t. I''m just saying," I said and kicked a stone down the street as we neared the banks of the creek.


    "Did you guys ever figure out if we''re ever going to the dentists again?" May asked, suddenly changing the subject. I didn''t know if Mira and I were going to tell May about what happened at the hospital, and we both looked at each other before Mira said, "There''s nothing much at the hospital."


    "Is it quiet there?"


    "Yeah," Mira said before looking down, probably in remembrance of the couple that lost their lives. "It''s a bit too quiet there."


    "Do you know what happened with that couple that we all saw on Saturday?" May asked. "I hope they didn''t die."


    But they did die, and for once in my life, I nearly told May the truth because I guess she deserved to know since I think she''s old enough to handle it and because even though I hold too many secrets, I hate when secrets are kept away from me or when things are censored unnecessarily, like Mom and Dad''s obsession with bleeping out swear words on the popular songs even though we''ve heard those swear words hundreds of times at school already. Hell, Mira and May have even used those swear words a bunch, though I haven''t still broken out of that childhood vow.


    But Mira beat me to the chase. "They''re fine. I heard the nurses talking about them. A couple of broken ribs, but nothing that won''t heal in a couple of months."


    "Oh," May said. "At least we''ll have less competition, gathering wood and water, for a couple months."


    There was an odd bit of silence.


    "You sound like Mom," Mira said. "We need to care about everyone, including them."


    "I do care," May said, more annoyed now. "I''m just saying that there are upsides to people getting hurt, and it''s not like I''m wishing for them to die."


    "Getting hurt is like dying, especially given how run-down the hospital is right now," Mira snapped back.


    "You just told me that the hospital was fine and now it''s not," May retorted back.


    "It''s fine, but it''s not running at full capacity, so if you''re not lucky, then you won''t get proper care and die."


    "Well those people are still alive, so who cares?" May basically shouted back at Mira before muttering. "You don''t need to be so preachy about it."


    "I''m not being preachy."


    "Yeah you are," May said. "Literally all of last week and this week, saying stuff like ''we should help everyone'' or ''I''m so cool and perfect because I care.'' The only reason that we''re alive is because we took stuff from the canned food section that other people needed. We''ve probably already got blood on our hands, so don''t act so high and mighty. If you want to help people, walk your talk."


    "But actually act like you have morals, May," Mira said before she was cut off by May.


    "I do have morals, and I''m living by them," she replied. "While you literally aren''t doing anything. It''s not like you''re giving food out to the starving or protecting anyone."


    "I will be," Mira said more quietly but firmly.


    May rolled her eyes. "Totally. Whatever you say."


    We had reached the creek and we reached and dipped our buckets into the deeper end. Because it''s the end of summer and the creek is relatively shallow and muddy, we got a ton of algae and silt in our buckets, but that didn''t matter since we had a vegetable strainer to deal with all of that, so we hauled our thirty-pound water buckets up the banks and headed back home, taking copious breaks on the way back.


    We repeated this process four more times, each more long and excruciating than the one before. Every time we got home, we would dump water into old bins rummaged up from the garage that used to hold ski equipment, and then Grandma and Grandpa would filter the water and boil it. Across literally the whole trip, May and Mira were practically shooting daggers at each other as I dodged snarky one-liners and passive aggressive comments that occasionally punctuated the silence.

 Chapter 19, Part 6

    Even though Dad said that it would take only two hours, it ended up taking probably three hours or more, and by the time we had finished, it was noon, and we were all exhausted. My arms were on fire, and I wished that I had some ice or some cold water to dunk them in. Even right now, they still hurt a bunch, but a lot less than before, and even just holding the pencil to write this entry, I can feel my arm muscles tensing up in pain. God, tomorrow is going to be a nightmare.


    Anyways, May and I spent the afternoon lounging on the couch while Mira disappeared somewhere into the house, presumably into her room. Mom and Dad said that we weren''t allowed to go back into our rooms because they don''t want much heat escaping the living room, but they weren''t here. And sometime in the early afternoon, Mira left the house with a piece of paper scrunched in her hand.


    "Where are you going?" May asked.


    "To do something," Mira said. "Maybe you should try doing that instead of laying down and doing nothing."


    "I can relax. I deserve it," May said before sarcastically adding. "Go on and save the world. You''re a freaking superhero."


    Mira ignored her and the door slammed close. And then, we resumed laying down on the couch for another five minutes before May sat up and suddenly said, "Thank god Mira''s out of the house. She can be so nosy sometimes, and it''s better not to risk it, given her whole savior thing going on."


    "Risk what?"


    "I''m scoping one of the houses," May said. "I already found one on the hike to the creek. It''s one-hundred percent empty, and there''s a low enough window that I can step into it pretty easily."


    "Mom and Dad will be back soon," I replied. "It''s too risky."


    "Mom and Dad aren''t going to be back for a long time. They''re up in the woods chopping down trees all day, like they said, and plus, I''ll only be gone for, like, ten or fifteen minutes, so if they come back, just say that I''m in the bathroom or something," she said before shrugging. "I don''t know. You''ll make up a good excuse."


    As she stood up and went towards the kitchen, I asked, "Where are you going to store your finds?"


    "Toy chest in our room. No one checks there, and no one''s going into our room anyways," she said, emerging from the kitchen with a thick pair of gloves and a rubber band as she tied her hair up.


    "You''re actually doing this?"


    "Yeah," she said, not in the sad or resentful way but curtly like in a "no duh" way. "Unlike Mira, I''m actually going to do something."


    She put on a mask and laced up her boots as I stood up. "You better not get hurt or die. Mom will kill me"


    "I''ve got perfect vision," she said. "I''ll be fine, so stop making me paranoid."


    "You better be home soon," I said.


    "Geez. Stop being so paranoid."


    "I can''t help it."


    "You know it''s alright to get in trouble."


    "Then why don''t you tell Dad the truth about that axe that I just miraculously found," I said, standing in front of the doorway as she stepped out of the door.


    "Not that kind of trouble," she said, calling back. "Truth trouble is always bad."


    And then she disappeared down the street, I went back to sitting on the couch for a couple of moments before deciding to go to our room just because the living room felt so exposed and because Grandma and Grandpa were hanging out there, and I wanted some real privacy. Last night, I barely got any sleep, with Dad''s snoring reverberating throughout the living room and the bright glow of the fireplace at the edge of my vision bothering me, as everyone''s breaths went in and out in an uncomfortable symphony.


    And on my old desk with a stick shaped lamp that doesn''t work anymore, there was Leon''s letter opened. I nearly went over there and picked up the letter and read it all before feeling guilty.


    It felt like a violation of privacy, and me reading the letter would be like her reading my diary. I''d hate that, maybe even burn the diary if she found out everything that I''m thinking of and all the secrets lining its pages. But I wanted to know because I had no idea what she was doing, and she stormed out of the house so suddenly that I couldn''t stop her or ask, and I had a feeling that the letter had answers.


    So I picked up the letter and read it all, and then, I guess on impulse I copied down the whole letter on another sheet of paper. I don''t know why I did that since that was a step beyond just violating privacy, but I think it was because at that moment, I was just so annoyed by Mira and May going around and doing secret activities that I wanted my own secret too, even as a bunch of them are literally threatening to bury me right now. I kinda regret copying the letter down, but I guess, if Mira ever loses her original letter, I''ll have a copy.


    But that''ll involve revealing this secret. So maybe I''ll keep it to myself forever and attach it at the end of this entry because this diary is the only place where no one looks, and even if someone took a peek, they''d be inundated with so many other things that I haven''t told anyone, that this letter will fade into the distance.


    After doing that, I prepared Charles'' food bag in relative ease compared to what''s coming up ahead. Grandpa and Grandma were distracted by the fireplace and the warmth and crackling, and I managed to slip a couple of extra cans into the bag because of the food drive stoppage. Now, their whole family is dependent on me, and I can''t fail them now. A couple of pessimistic thoughts popped into my head at that exact moment, chief of them being whether he and his family are still alive, but I pushed them down because they just had to be alive. I know he lived in a bit of an old house, but there''s no way that it collapsed. Things like that just can''t happen, you know. They can''t.


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    I managed to get Charles'' bag stored in a nice, convenient location in a closet full of junk that no one looks in before clicking on the phones and having the time pop up, a bright 3:17. I didn''t check the time before, but I''m pretty sure that May left a long time before three, and I had no clue where she was or if she was dying and needed help or if she had found a good bounty. I mentally gave myself until 4:30 before I would go and search for her myself, and until then, I hoped that Mom and Dad wouldn''t come home.


    In the meantime, I curled up in my bed, probably for the last time, and grabbed my book that I had stored in the back of the bathroom cabinet, now vaguely smelling like the tea and lavender soap we store there and opened it up and began to read. About sixty-pages in, I stopped and placed a bookmark there.


    And I guess the reason that I stopped is because I guess it''s just weird how the main character is so confident in his desires. Yeah, he''s not really told his parents or his friends or even the guy he''s crushing on, but he knows that he likes that guy, and he''s sure that that''s what he wants, even if he hasn''t told anyone yet. And I don''t know because for me, sometimes I''m confident and I know that I''m interested in other guys, but other times, I''m not really confident because I haven''t ever been in a relationship yet, so I don''t know if everything''s true, or whether this is a phase that people go through. Maybe I''m the weird one because I''m not confident in what I want. Sometimes, I wish that I could just make mistakes that I might regret later without that constant hammering fear, but now''s not the time for it.


    But there never seems to be enough time.


    But I ended up continuing it, and just as I was about to get to the part where they go on their first date and have their first kiss, there was a knock on the window, and I slammed my book shut. It was May, holding a bag of something and telling me to open the backdoor, and thank goodness Dad didn''t decide to clean these ash-stained windows because I would''ve gotten exposed by May.


    I unlocked the backdoor and she barged in before looking around quickly. "Mom and Dad aren''t home, right?"


    I shook my head. "What took you so long? You were gone forever."


    "I wasn''t gone that long," she said as we walked towards our room. "Maybe like thirty minutes or something."


    "Definitely more than thirty minutes, and you still haven''t answered my question: what took you so long?"


    "Geez, be patient," May said and closed the door behind me and opened up her backpack. There was a pair of pants in there, a ball of yarn and collection of sharpies, a travel sized bottle of eucalyptus shampoo, some mason jars, flower patterned pillow covers, a metal water bottle, an earring that probably had a fake diamond on it, four blue and purple ski socks, five skinny batteries and one fat one, and a handful of dried beans. "What''s up with those?"


    She shrugged. "I just found it in the food pantry. The raiders must''ve torn the bag and missed some."


    "And this is all you found?"


    "Well, you know if I could actually break into one of those houses that haven''t been broken into, instead of picking up the leftovers, I could go for the whole thing," May said. "But you get what you get, and the whole house was picked dry. These were the most valuable things that I could find. There were some other things, like tons of toothbrushes and underwear, but there''s no way that we''re going to be using those"


    "That''s a whole lot of risk for getting basically nothing."


    "Well, it''s a start," she said. "I wanted to go into the attic, but I couldn''t reach the pulldown. If Mom and Dad actually did something and came there, I could''ve had a chance to see what''s up there because tons of people hide random stuff there."


    "Well Mom and Dad aren''t going to come," I replied.


    "Sucks for them. And us," she said, turning away before turning back. "And why are you complaining? What have you been doing?"


    "Nothing," I said, but that sounded a bit too quick and too desperate, and May''s eyes narrowed as she looked at me suspiciously, so I added, "Absolutely nothing. I''ve just seen so lazy and bad while you''ve been so cool and great."


    "Thank you, thank you," she said, even though she knew I was being sarcastic. "I know I''m too cool for the world."


    "Totally," I said, and then, she left the room, and I collapsed on the bed, my heart beating like crazy, as I fished underneath the bed for the book that I hastily shoved there when May was moving from the window to the backdoor, and I moved it back to the back of the bathroom cabinet to rest again.


    May ended up taking a shower, and I took a shower after her. Well, it really wasn''t a shower, but more like using a lukewarm wet towel to wipe myself off along with some soap. We weren''t really sure if the shower drain worked without power or whether it''d get clogged, so May set up two buckets. One for the clean water and the other for the soapy water when we wrung out the washcloth. It was terrible and uncomfortable and now the only things that I miss more than electricity and the internet are hot showers.


    Mom and Dad eventually came back around the same time that May and I were making dinner. May was sick and tired of eating soup, and we worked pretty hard today, so she decided to do an impromptu bean and chips night. She mostly did the work while I watched the beans slowly boil next to the fireplace and got stuff out of the cabinet for her: some canned diced tomatoes, three bags of Doritos, our last bottle of sour cream and onion pringles, and some dried cilantro.


    "What are you making?" Dad asked.


    "Nachos," May said.


    "That''s too much food," Dad said. "Too many calories in there."


    "Everyone probably burned, like, three times as many calories compared to what''s here," May replied defensively. "If you want soup today, be my guest."


    Dad sighed, and Mom put her hand on his shoulder. "I think we might need to take over counting the pantry from you two. Both of you have done a great job, but now, we need to ration our food more carefully, and I noticed that you two haven''t updated the inventory since early June. It might be better for your father and I to handle the food situation now."


    "I did something nice for you guys, and this is what I get," May said. "Less and less food."


    "We''ll update the inventory," I said, and May looked at me weirdly. "Every day like you want. And you guys have so much on your plate."


    And then Mom and Dad looked at me weirdly and pretty soon, everyone was looking at me weirdly. I probably shouldn''t have panicked like that because that just made me look suspicious, but at the same time, if Mom and Dad took over the inventory, I''d actually be screwed. There''s no way that I''ll be able to sneak food past them ever again, especially if everything is documented in pen and I can''t just erase and rewrite values.


    "Okay," Mom said. "Tomorrow, both of you will be counting everything in the pantry to figure out exactly how much we have right now, and your father and I will help plan out the meals."


    I nodded. It was a partial win for me, but who knows for how long? I can only hope that it''s long enough. Mom then looked around. "Where''s Mira?"


    I shrugged, and May said, "Ran off to save the world."


    "I''m serious," Mom said. "Did she go shower?"


    "And I''m serious," May said. "She literally left. I have no clue where she went."

 Chapter 19, Part 7

    And then there was a knock on the door. Mom muttered underneath her breath, "I''m going to kill her for causing such a scare."


    Mom peeped through the peephole before opening the door, with Mira standing there with that handgun and holster.


    "Where''d you go?" Mom demanded. "Why didn''t you tell anyone? And what is with the gun?"


    "Mom, relax," Mira said. "I¡ª"


    Mom cut her off. "I don''t care where you went, but you should at least tell someone before you go."


    "Can I come in to explain? I don''t know what''s up with you," Mira said before Mom and Dad stopped her.


    "The gun stays outside," Mom said, and Dad nodded before adding, "Someone is going to get hurt if it goes off."


    "The safety''s on," Mira said. "So no one will get hurt. And I went to the night patrol meeting today. Last week they briefed everyone on firearms safety, but I got filled in quickly, so that I could start taking shifts."


    "We agreed that we weren''t doing that," Mom said before Mira cut her off.


    "You and Dad agreed to not do that," Mira said. "But I didn''t."


    "That thing doesn''t come into our house," Mom said. "I don''t want it under our roofs at all.


    "If we leave it outside, it''ll be more dangerous," Mira replied. "Animals might tamper with it, and it might accidentally shoot."


    "I don''t care. You deal with it," Mom said. "A gun? Seriously? We don''t need that danger inside our house."


    "You know I''m the only reason that they agreed to patrol our neighborhood," Mira replied, her voice clipped with annoyance. "They were just going to skip over us since our whole neighborhood is deserted, but because they said that they''d leave no member behind, I managed to secure us from protection. You can''t deny it, Mom. Houses are being broken into, and what you saw on Saturday, people are getting hurt."


    "We protect ourselves," Mom replied. "I don''t like saying that, but carrying that gun puts you at risk, and it puts us all at risk."


    "No, it doesn''t," Mira said. "We''re backed up by other people, and I''ll be able to protect us and other people too. There''s no police anymore, so we need to look out for ourselves and other people too."


    "Well that gun isn''t coming here," Mom said. "We could get arrested."


    "There''s no police anymore."


    "Doesn''t matter. The laws are the laws."


    Dad then stepped in, and for once, instead of adding gasoline to this flaming argument, he managed to douse it. "I don''t like it, but the gun stayed in the safe. If you take it out, you go straight out of the house, and when you return, you go and put it straight in."


    "Sounds fine to me," Mira replied.


    "For your sake, I hope you know what you''re doing," Dad said with a sigh.


    Mira brushed past Dad and more like pushed past Mom. Mom turned to Dad. "How could you let her do this?"


    "I don''t like this, and I don''t like to admit it, but she''s right. We do need protection."


    "Not this kind of protection."


    "I wish it didn''t have to be this way," Dad replied, and they both exited the hall as May, and I stared on before I heard a crackle. The bubbling beans were overflowing, and I ran to the fireplace and took some tongs and oven mitts to pull it away as May poured diced tomatoes in a bowl with some vinegar.


    "Well that''s certainly a twist," she said and looked at Mira walking into the kitchen. "I never expected her to actually do it. I thought she was just bluffing."


    "Mira doesn''t do bluffing," I replied and poured the beans into a bowl.


    Dinner was awkward. Mira said that she''ll be out from four to six every day starting tomorrow, and Mom and Dad mostly didn''t say much, and that was pretty much the atmosphere of dinner: a lot of people not saying a lot. We dipped our potato chips in bean dip and made awkward small talk and then, dinner, I guess, just ended, and everyone just ended up sitting on the mattresses in the living room, staring at the crackling fire.


    I suppose that''s appropriate for today, the real quiet ending to the day unlike last time that I predicted that the day would end quietly (but I hope that I don''t jinx it now). Mom and Dad announced that they''ll be going woodcutting again on Wednesday because the weather is good and because they''re feeling great. But I know that last part was a lie, and so did everyone, but no one said anything. Mira talked with me afterwards.


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    "Mom and Dad are mad at me again," she said.


    "Yeah," I replied, and my words trailed off.


    "Am¡ª Am I doing something wrong with joining the watch?"


    "I don''t know," I said and paused before saying. "I know you want to help, but I don''t know if guns are the way to do it."


    "So you agree with Mom and Dad?"


    "Kinda," I said, but that was a lie. I really agreed with Mom and Dad, but I didn''t want Mira to feel bad, and I felt bad about violating her privacy by copying down the letter. I added, "I guess I''m just worried, you know."


    "About what?"


    "About guns, like people getting hurt."


    "No one''s going to get hurt," she said. "That''s why I''m doing this. To protect people and make sure they stay safe."


    I didn''t mention how she could hurt people with her gun because, in the end, that''s what guns are for. You can dress it up with fancy words like "protection" or "safety," but that doesn''t change the facts. But I didn''t say much, and after some awkward silence, she said that she was going to sleep because she had a long evening of patrolling tomorrow. I''m going to sleep now, so I guess I''ll attach the letter here, at the very end, for safekeeping:


    Dear Mira,


    How are you doing? I know it''s rhetorical (and you''d definitely tell me that), but I hope that everything is going great for you there. Dad is excited to meet your family, and even though Mom is a bit peeved that we had a secret wedding without her, she hopes that you guys are enjoying her homemade strawberry jam (though make sure to add a bit of honey since it''ll taste much, much better). Phillip laughs and teases me every time that he sees our picture, and now I agree with you: we should''ve burned it, preferably with my annoying older brother too.


    After I left, I managed to meet up with my family, and it was relatively smooth sailing through Central Valley (since according to some reports, the coastal routes were too mountainous and dangerous). We had to backtrack a couple of times because of wreckage blockages in some of the streets, but the rural roads were dusty and safe, and we managed to avoid some of the violence that plagued the major cities that all the highways connected into. When we passed Fresno, there was a billowing of dark smoke, smelling like burnt rubber and plastic, that mixed with the volcanic ash and turned the sky a stormy gray.


    There was plenty of food on the trip there. The orchards were empty, and even with the low sunlight, there were still fruits and nuts hanging on the trees, so we managed to harvest a lot on the way, and not waste anything we''ve got stored. Around Bakersfield, though, our car broke down, probably because of the bad dust and ash in the air since the land is parched there and also because we were running on fumes. We pushed the car into the grove of cottonwood a couple of miles out from the Motel 6 sign and near a big sign that says "Annie''s Almonds." There are some wild berry jams and a bunch of nuts in there, so look out for it when your family travels South.


    I''ve been meaning to write a letter to you, but all the post-offices that we passed by on our week-long walk to LA were shuttered. Entire towns were just empty, but Phillip''s and Dad''s constant ghost jokes helped lighten up the mood. Here''s one, but you better not read ahead: Where do ghosts go for the holidays?


    To Lake Eerie. You probably aren''t laughing right now, and that was a cheesy joke. I''ll be armed with a better one next time, trust me. When all of this is over, we''ll have our proper honeymoon, preferably away from any volcanoes or beaches (unless you want to). I''m not sure exactly where we''ll go, but we''ll find something. Maybe somewhere warm, like New Mexico. We''ll float in hot-air balloons all night and gaze at the constellations as the sun paints the mountains oranges and violets. But wherever you want to go, I''ll want to go with you.


    Right now we''re in LA. There''s a small caravan of survivors, about fifty strong, that we''re planning on traveling with. Normally, we''d go alone, but they''ve got a horse-cart that can carry tons of water and supplies, and Mom managed to seduce one of the leaders with her famous pickled carrots (which taste better than they sound) and elderberry jelly, and even though Dad has some "mild" reservations, Mom bossed him into joining them. It was real funny, and I think you and Mom would make a great team (even I would be a little scared of you two).


    I''m probably rambling, aren''t I? It''s just that I''m scared, not of this letter not reaching you, but because I don''t want to mess up and forget something that I was meaning to say. I wish we could see each other, at least just for a minute, and I know you don''t want me to say this, but sometimes, I wish that I had stayed behind. But you''d tell me to pick myself up and find a little grit, so that''s what I''m trying to do. I don''t know how you stay so tough and so positive, but when we meet, make sure to tell me your secret.


    I''m running out of space now, and I probably shouldn''t have written in pen, so I''ll keep this quick since I''m not sure if any letters I''m going to write from this point on will ever reach you. We''re first heading towards Riverside before beelining to Palm Springs and trekking through Joshua Tree national park to reach Blythe, where we''ll restock our water supplies in the Colorado River before heading towards the Gila River next to Phoenix. We''ll follow it for as long as we can up and down Arizona until we hit Duncan, where we''ll depart and head straight down to Lordsburg, skip from pond to pond to Duncan before we make our way to Caballo and up all the way to Albuquerque and then Santa Fe. It''s going to be long on foot, probably a three or four month long journey, and the reason I''m telling you is that I''ll be wearing that bright neon yellow bandana that you hate on my arm in case anything happens to me.


    I love you so much, and our time together has been the best in my life. You''re amazing, sweet, funny, smart, and (dare I say this because I know you''ll hate it) just awesome. Protect others, inspire hope, just do great things because that''s the person that you are. I know this sounds like a cliche death note from the movies, but I plan on staying alive and well. I love you, and I''ll be seeing you down the road.


    (So much) Love,


    (Your very handsome and cool hubby) Leon + the rest of my family


    P.S. I still haven''t changed my mind. Peanut butter cookies are way better than chocolate chip ones.

 Chapter 20, Part 1

    September 6


    I thought I got caught. Everyone sleeping together in the living is a nightmare beyond anything that I''ve ever imagined.


    Even after I had managed to already pre-pack the cans (which I thought was the hardest part), I needed to sneak them out of the door and into the safe spot, something that I could not do yesterday because Mom and Dad were milling around and gathering wood.


    Luckily for me, only part of the door was visible from the living room, and I kept my bag low and close to me to avoid detection in case someone woke up. Unfortunately for me, the front door is so creaky, and when I opened the door, the creaks reverberated through the house. I managed to move the bag into position and put some dried-up weeds over it before I heard someone say, "Neal?"


    I nearly had a heart attack, and I managed to let out only a small sigh when I saw that it was Mira before for a second. I thought it was May since with the pulsing heartbeat filling my ears, they sounded the same. Even though she wouldn''t dare expose me to Mom and Dad, having more people know my secret would make every week more and more risky.


    "Yeah," I said. "Do you need anything?"


    "Is this how you do it?" she asked. "Giving food to Charles."


    I nodded. "It was the door, wasn''t it? We definitely need to grease up the hinges."


    "Maybe have Dad do it this afternoon?" Mira suggested. "Or maybe have it be a brother-sister thing, you know. And who knows? It might be useful in the future."


    "I''ve got to talk with Charles this afternoon," I said. "To make sure that he''s alright. After the earthquake, I don''t know."


    "He''s going to be alright," she said, and I nodded even though the pessimism drowned my thoughts: Charles trapped under debris, Charles killed by food raiders, Charles dead of dehydration. I''ve got this bad habit of imagining the worst all the time even though I always tell everyone that everything is going to be alright.


    "You remember the last time that we were out here?" she asked. "I was in a bad place, I guess, and you told me how everything''s going to be alright."


    "Yeah," I said. "You think he''s going to be alright?"


    "He is," Mira said with such firmness that I didn''t know whether she actually believed me or whether she was just putting on this mask of strength to stop me from worrying. "And I know this because of the sun."


    "The sun?" I said. "This better not be some lecture about the sun shining again."


    She laughed a little. "It''s not¡ª Okay, maybe it''s a little bit of that. I just feel hopeful now, and I can''t really explain it. It''s just that I never really expected to see a sunrise again and here it is in its gold and amber glory. And with the letter delivering from all the way in LA, I just feel like our dream might come true."


    "You''re kinda scaring me," I said. "With all this optimism."


    "Yeah. I think I might be going a little crazy," she said. "It''s probably the sun."


    "Nah," I said. "It''s definitely the moon. You''re probably not getting enough sleep because it''s shining so bright."


    "Maybe," she said with a smile that slowly faded away. "Tonight was the first night where I didn''t dream about their deaths and wake up and fall back asleep to the same nightmare. I know Mom and Dad don''t agree with me, but I feel a sense of purpose doing the night watch and helping people, and I''m going to work and win them over."


    "Mom and Dad aren''t going to change their minds," I replied before pausing and adding. "Why are you always trying to win them over? I mean you can just do it for you, you know."


    "Before, it was more about their approval, but now, I just want them to understand. There''s more to life than just looking out for ourselves," she said. "I wish I could give food to the hospital workers, but there''s just not enough, so the best that I can do is at least try to protect everyone''s families and homes."


    "Then what did you dream about? If you didn''t dream about, you know, death."


    She shrugged. "Just normal life. I don''t really know. I should keep a dream journal."


    "Did you ever try journaling?"


    "I did," she said. "But it feels better to talk about my actual feelings instead of writing them down. I just feel like it helps move me forwards."


    "That''s good," I said and nodded awkwardly. "I was wondering if I could have the notebook back. My journal is almost completely filled up."


    "Yeah," she said. "I''ve got a couple of doodles in there, but I can erase them."


    "No, it''s fine," I said.


    "No, I insist," she said. "They look awful."


    "They''re probably not bad," I said even though I knew they were going to be blobby messes. "And plus, I want to see what my sister is drawing about. It''s nothing R-rated right?"


    "My intent wasn''t anything inappropriate," she said before gazing into the distance and grimacing. "But I think certain shapes may be interpreted that way."


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    "Mom and Dad are going to freak when they see whatever you drew."


    "Good thing Mom and Dad aren''t you," she said and stood up. "Next time, you know you can ask me for help."


    I nodded as she entered the house, but I lingered out there longer. The sky was crimson red with the dawn sunlight and cloudless. I didn''t know if that was a good or a bad omen, and I double checked the bag before going back inside a couple minutes later.


    There was this slow bustle at home throughout the morning. Mom transferred the peas to the soil while Dad cleaned up the ash produced by the fire and scooped it into the bag. He was about to dump the ash into the garden when I told him that the ash could be used as fertilizer for the plants and that we could make soap out of it in the future.


    "I think we''ve got enough soap to last a lifetime," Dad said.


    "That''s what we said about a lot of things," I replied.


    "Okay," Dad said. "But you better not be hoarding this ash for no good reason, like all your fourth-grade papers that you''ve never touched since we''ve packed them up in the boxes."


    I ignored him and went back to doing an inventory on the canned food. May and I created a spreadsheet on graph paper and tallied up all the canned food we had. Mom wanted us to use a pen because she can''t see pencil well (even though she''s got reading glasses), but I managed to convince her that we don''t want to make a permanent mistake with a pen and that we''ll write super dark.


    I underwrote as many values as I could, saying that we had 31 cans of sardines instead of 34 or saying that we''ve got 54 cans of brussel sprouts when we''ve got 64. May didn''t notice for a while until she started glancing at my numbers weirdly.


    She pointed at my spreadsheet. "That''s supposed to be 37, not 32, and that''s supposed to be 57, not 47. Are you, like, high or something? You definitely stink."


    "Maybe you should speak louder," I said.


    "Maybe you should hear better," she retorted back, but I got the message, so for the rest of them, I didn''t risk changing the numbers. I think I scored around sixty or so cans reserved for Charles out of the thousand or so cans that we have, about six weeks'' worth of them, from this piecemeal number manipulation. As for what comes after six weeks, I''ll figure it out then.


    Afternoon was spent doing laundry and dishes, and I scurried around the living room, laying towels underneath the line holding the wet laundry and drying dishes as the smell of detergent wafted throughout the room, tinged with a bit of a smoky smell. May wanted to open the windows, but Mom said no, and then they began bickering, and the clattering of dishes intensified.


    A knock on the door saved me from being caught up in their storm, and I quickly grabbed a mask, told Mom that it was Charles, and opened the door to sit with him outside. He looked fine, though I noticed that there was a band aid on his face, and he seemed to be rubbing at his bruised knuckles.


    "Are you alright?" I asked. "After the earthquake."


    "Let''s just say that I''m doing better than some of the houses on your street," he said with a playful grimace. "We should hold a vigil for them."


    "I''m serious," I said and pointed to his cheek. "What with the band aid on your face?"


    "It''s nothing," he said. "I just accidentally slipped on some broken glass and scratched my face. Honestly, I''m actually surprised our old house survived this, though our chandelier did fall down."


    "That''s good," I said, awkwardly nodding. "Sorry about the can situation. I couldn''t get as much out because of the whole food situation and my parents¡ª"


    "It''s fine," he said. "We''re fine. And anyways, I''m not here to accept a billion apologies. I''m here to make dreams come true."


    Charles seemed to be filled with energy and seemed even better than last week. I don''t know what''s up with this transformation, but for a while, he seems almost better. I know that I told Mira that Charles was doing terrible and all, but now he''s not. Maybe it''s some higher power or something, but a part of me doesn''t want to question this, even though I just instinctively know that something was off and has been off for quite some time.


    "Even last week''s dream."


    "That''s different," he said. "That''s for the adult future."


    "So in two years," I said. "Or, like, a year and a half for me."


    "Shh," he said. "Even though everyone says that we''re adults at eighteen, we''re probably going to be the same as now. I''m talking about real adulthood, like when we''re married and have got real jobs and stuff."


    "Whatever," I replied. "What about being a Pok¨¦mon trainer?"


    "Now I''m being serious," he said with a light laugh and I smiled, even though he wouldn''t be able to see if from behind his mask.


    "I guess I want to write something," I said.


    "Write," he exclaimed.


    "Yes. Write."


    "That''s something that the old Neal would say," he said. "The new Neal would want to achieve something bolder rather than dwelling on these boring options."


    "I''ll write an exciting story," I said.


    "Doesn''t change the fact that you''ll be cramped at home," he replied. "You should be out in the world doing stuff."


    "Well, I''ve got a couple things standing in my way." I turned around and pointed behind me. "Chiefly being my parents. Maybe I can go to your house. They might be more okay with that."


    There was an awkward pause. "I don''t know," he said. "My house is going to be even more boring than yours. Anyways, since you''re so insistent about doing your book thing, what are you going to write about?"


    That was deflection, and for a second, I wanted to push him. But I didn''t because that would be too awkward and because it''s not like he was sick or dying like the last time that I confronted him when there was something seriously wrong. So I continued with his deflection, "I don''t know. Isn''t that what you''re here for?"


    He leaned in. "You should write about how swords are better than axes."


    "Axes will always be better than swords," I said. "And anyways, I''m not writing about that. I want to write a story story."


    "Fine," he said and began listing a bunch of random topics: cowboys and western shootouts, fantasy anime worlds (though he mentioned that they cannot have harems, and until that point, I had no idea that that was a thing), some sort of space sci-fi drama that he immediately retracted because it''d be a ton of work, and a superhero-Pok¨¦mon crossover story.


    As seen by the relatively short list that I have compiled, we were not that productive during our brainstorming session. And with the mid-fifty-degree weather in the afternoon and the bright sun, it almost felt like summer, and we spent most of the time just talking about whatever and casually shooting down each other''s ideas and doing normal things.


    After about an hour, Charles stood up. "I better see your rough draft next week."


    I shook my head with a small smile. "You''re not my teacher. If anything, I should be your teacher, being three months older than you."


    "I don''t know what you''re talking about," he said, impersonating a teacher and deepening his voice as he walked down the porch steps. "I was born in 1963. Kids these days, not respecting authority."


    "Goodbye," I said.


    "I bid you farewell," he replied. "May we meet again down the road."


    Before he left, I noticed that his new boots from last week had glass shards embedded in its soles, just like I had noticed a while back. I thought I had been hallucinating the glittering on his shoes, but I guess not. Or maybe I was hallucinating last time. Still, it''s weird how much glass there was on his boots, and even though it could''ve been from the glass shattering because of the earthquake, I don''t know.


    I''m definitely overthinking it. It was probably from the earthquake, and I was just making it up because I was sunlight deprived last time. That''s the only answer that makes sense. And I need to stop being so suspicious.

 Chapter 20, Part 2

    September 7


    Thank goodness our house didn''t burn down. And thank goodness for that annoying fire alarm.


    Apparently, during the middle of the night, someone must''ve accidentally kicked a towel or some fabric into the smoldering embers, and it must''ve caught on fire, which then caught a part of the greenbox on fire, which must''ve triggered the fire alarm because we all scrambled awake, and Dad grabbed the fire extinguisher and began spraying all around the fire until there wasn''t much light.


    The damage wasn''t as bad as it could''ve been. Part of the plastic tarp draped over it unfortunately caught on fire, and the air smelled acrid, so Mom opened the windows, and Mira cut off the burnt plastic bits while May and I pushed the beds back. Dad scooped the ash into the bucket before looking back into the chimney, brushing his fingers on the sides before coughing at the rising soot.


    Dad talked with Mom and turned to the rest of us and said, "We''ll be doing fire-monitoring now. I''ll be doing the two am to five am shift. Your mom will be doing the eleven pm to two am shift, and your grandparents will take the five am to eight am shift. Mira, May, Neal, you three will be responsible for the rest of the day. Split it up however you would like, but someone always needs to be watching the fire."


    "I claim the afternoon," May said. "Two to seven."


    "I''ll be doing the morning one," Mira said. "Eight to two in the afternoon."


    "I guess I''m doing the evening one," I said.


    "We''ve got to make sure something like this never happens again," Dad said. "And I realized that we need to clean up the chimney today so that no accidents like this or worse happen again, so just for today, everyone can go back to their old rooms."


    So that''s what we did. After something as, I guess, stressful or exciting as the fire, the rest of the day felt fairly normal. Since none of the beds had any mattresses on them, we mostly sat on the ground. May was just staring at the walls and bouncing a rubber ball on it while Mira and I played a boring game of cards. When I went out to get a glass of water, I heard Mom and Dad arguing a bit.


    "Wear the mask," Mom said with one of those fancy filter masks on her fingers.


    "I''ll be fine with this one," Dad said and pointed to the normal surgical masks that we wore. "We need to save that one for when we have to go outside for a long time, like if we were trying to leave."


    "We''re not leaving," Mom said. "Like you said when Leon left, it''s too dangerous, too risky. We''ve got shelter, heat, and food here."


    "I know what I said before," Dad said. "It''s just... I didn''t expect the water and natural gas and food to go out so fast at the same time, and with the weather being nice, maybe we could make it far¡ª"


    "We don''t know what the road conditions are like," Mom replied. "We don''t have gasoline¡ª"


    "We should''ve done the rockfall netting," Dad said, cutting her off. "It''d be so nice to have a backup plan."


    "We don''t. So you need to stop with this," Mom said. "Now just take the mask, and let''s worry about the now because the future can wait for later."


    Dad reluctantly put on the mask, and Mom made sure to see that it was tightened before putting on her own fancy filtered mask, and they went to work scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing, Dad with one of the toilet brushes and Mom with a damp sponge catch the soot flying dislodged by the brush. It wasn''t until the afternoon that I remembered the information giveaway that the city council was handing out today.


    "Mom," I said as I stood outside, watching them clean up the roof chip away at the ash caked on the shingles.


    "Stay away," she said, and I stepped back as a blob of ash slid off the shingles and landed in front of me with a puff of dust, quickly blown away by the gusts of wind. She climbed down the ladder "What do you need?"


    "Can I go with Mira to city hall?" I asked. "There''s the water purification and heating flyer giveaway, and we might find something useful."


    "That''s good," Mom said. "Smart. But remember if you see any danger¡ª"


    "Run away," I said, following Mom''s new mantra. "And don''t look back."


    "Even if someone''s hurt," she said. "The hospital is still working, so we can let the proper people take care of this situation."


    But the hospital wasn''t working completely, and the emergency services didn''t come in time to help that couple. I closed my eyes because I could still see the blood running down the sidewalk, and at that moment, for some reason, I wondered if there was still a bloodstain marking the spot where they passed or if they got a bit of dignity and someone had washed it away. "You remember the couple that, you know..."


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    "Yeah," Mom said. "I hope that they are alright. They should be fine¡ª"


    I cut Mom off. "They died. When Mira and I went to the hospital, we saw a whole vigil there with lots of people."


    I don''t know why I lied about the vigil. I guess part of it was to cover up the fact that we told Mom that we went to the hospital to check for dental availability, not checking to see if they were alright, and I guess another part of it was to drum up sympathy to see if Mom even cares because she''s been acting so cold and so me focused that I wondered if she even cared about others.


    Mom didn''t say much before she took a deep breath. "I''m sorry you had to see that, and it''s terrible that they passed away, but we made the right choice, and I don''t know what I would do if one of you guys were in the hospital or on a vigil. We had to make a tough choice, you understand that?"


    I turned away from Mom. "I''ll go get Mira."


    Did we make the right choice? Like Mom, I keep telling myself that we did the right thing, and even though it''s wrong, I can''t help feeling about what we did and what I did was wrong. At the moment, it seemed right, but now, it just seems wrong. I''m trying to forget them and leave them behind, but it''s so hard to do something as simple as that.


    Just as Mira and I were about to leave, Mom stopped us. "No gun."


    I looked down and saw Mira''s gun holstered to her hip. Mira replied, "It''ll be safer¡ª"


    "It won''t," Mom said. "You barely know how to use it, and I don''t want it to accidentally go off and hurt Neal."


    "The safety''s on. It can''t do any damage," Mira replied. "And it''ll keep us safe from any people who''ll¡ª"


    "And you''ll be prepared to shoot them?" Mom asked before emphasizing. "Kill them?"


    There was a pause of silence as Mira grasped for a response, but none came out, so Mom continued, "Because that''s what guns are for in the end. For killing. And if you get attacked by someone and they get the gun, they may not have the same resistance to killing as you. There''s so much death in the world right now. Why add more? Put the gun away and stay close to each other and away from other groups of people, and you''ll be safe."


    Mira untensed, and it didn''t seem like she wanted a fight. "Fine."


    "Good," Mom said, almost smugly. "Make sure to check the billboard to see if there''s any news."


    And then after Mira put the gun away (Mom checked to make sure), we set off to city hall. May didn''t come because she couldn''t stand to be around Mira, and because she had her fire watching duties, so we walked alone together down the rows of deserted neighborhoods to the information session, taking the long way around, rather than our normal shorter path, just to make sure our comings and goings were not so predictable.


    The last two times I went out, I was so focused on the food drive and the hospital that I only paid attention to everything around me glancingly, but now, the whole situation of the earthquake really dug in. Semi-collapsed houses speckled the streets, and in some, especially in the older and more dilapidated parts of the neighborhood near the mid-center of the city, there were just rows of collapsed buildings. Concrete and painted wooden beams laid on ash-caked lawns and downed electric poles that we walked in wide circles around, making sure to stay away from the exposed wiring even if there wasn''t any electricity. Adobe shingles dotted the ground and strong gusts in the air made the building around us dangerously creak, so we walked quickly to avoid the possible collapse.


    When we reached the booth where they were handing out the information, I saw that there were tons of people sitting around there with signs like "Please. I have three kids" and "I just need one can." begging everyone who went up to grab the information for just a little bit of food. Some of them looked gaunt and hopeless while others just looked plain angry, glaring at us and city hall and holding up begging signs with pigs drawn on it.


    Ever since I was young, Mom and Dad taught me and Mira and May to look down and not make eye contact with homeless people and people begging for food. They said that they wouldn''t bother us and that we should just keep moving on. But I couldn''t help looking around at people''s thin faces and heads bandaged from the earthquake injuries. Some of them probably didn''t have any homes.


    I could see that Mira felt the same way, but she held me close as we walked up to the desk, and the volunteer sitting there, as tired as the rest of the people in the crowd, handed us handwritten instructions about water boiling and chimney and fireplace cleaning manuals. I took a little glance into the giant donation can. There was nothing there, not even a can of disgusting tuna or aggressively bland sugarless cereal.


    "You want to make a donation?" the lady asked me, and I jumped, startled.


    I didn''t know what to say, so I stuck with something Mom and Dad would say. "No."


    The lady sighed, and we left. I wanted to look back, but I felt like if I met their eyes, I''d feel guilty. I know that I wrote that I wished that Mira wouldn''t give them food, but I think I''d take that back. But I can''t because of Charles and his family, and I hate how survival is such a zero-sum game.


    We didn''t walk much on the way back, Mira glancing around and watching for any possible threats while I read the flyer. It wasn''t very useful beyond one little tidbit about how to use bleach to sterilize water. The way back was still bad, half-burnt houses and charred remains of trees decorating the gray landscape, but it felt less so, like I was getting used to it.


    The rest of the day was spent pretty silently at home. When we got back home, Mom and Dad were on top of the roof, taping together old bamboo sticks from martial arts lessons from elementary school to extend the brush down to scrub every last bit of the chimney. By the time that they had finished, it was time for Mira to leave for the Shepards'' meeting location to meet her partner for her evening night watch shift.


    We all ate dinner in silence, following Mom and Dad''s food planning guide. The first time that nothing I''ll eat is going to be available is in a month, and I''m not excited, at all. I just realized that today was our thankfulness day, but I guess once a habit is broken, it''s almost impossible to regain it ever again.


    I wonder if this is going to be us if things return back to normal, where the cycle of normalcy that defined our lives before won''t be normal anymore and the apocalypse will be our normal for a long time. But more importantly, I wonder how far we''re going to fall from everything we consider normal, not just phones and the internet but values and morals. I wonder if I''ll look at myself in two years and be disgusted at who I turn out to be.


    After I left them behind, I think old me would be disappointed in me right now.

 Chapter 20, Part 3

    September 8


    "No."


    That''s what I said when I saw May grabbing a hammer from the toy box. She turned back to me. "Like you said yesterday, there are tons of people starving, so we need to take what''s ours before other people go for them."


    "Going into abandoned houses, that''s safe," I said, completely regretting telling May the truth about what had happened yesterday. "But literally breaking into the houses. What if someone''s living there?"


    "Again, eyes," she said pointing to her eyes.


    "But what if they''re in hiding, like waiting to ambush you?"


    "That''s not going to happen," she said. "And plus, I can just pretend that I''m a confused middle-schooler."


    "You''re literally going to turn fifteen in two weeks. There''s no way you can pull off the confused tween look," I replied. "Just go to the Hunters'' house. We left a ton of stuff behind in the basement."


    She ignored the second half of what I said. "Exactly. Just think of this as an early birthday present. At least I''m not asking for a Ferrari or something. And plus, you don''t even need to deal with Mom and Dad since they''re probably going to be gone all day woodcutting. All you need to deal with is Mira and her annoying preachy attitude."


    "She just wants to help."


    "Well she should be helping us more," May said. "While she''s going out there doing whatever, I''m here doing the work for us."


    She grabbed a backpack and put a flashlight, lamp, hammer, and mallet in there while slipping a pocketknife into her knife. She noticed me staring at the pocketknife. "Don''t worry. I''m not going to stab anyone."


    I stood by the doorway. "You''re leaving now?"


    "Yeah," she said. "Before my stupid fire watch shift starts. I''ll come in from the backdoor, so just make sure you keep Mira in the living room. That shouldn''t be too hard, definitely easier than last time."


    I didn''t know why I kept getting roped into all of May''s plans, and as she exited the hallway, I said, "Don''t do anything stupid because of boredom."


    "I''m not doing this because I''m bored," she said, and I couldn''t tell if that was the truth of a lie because the most stupid things I''ve seen people in apocalypse movies do are when they''re bored, like go out and punch zombies or race down streets in expensive cars only to crash and die.


    I kept a watch out for Mira as May snuck out of the backdoor. After that, I went to the living room to spy on Mira for May, and even though I didn''t want to, I''d feel guilty about it, so I sat down on my mattress, gazing at the cracking fire.


    "Where''s May?" she asked.


    I''d already made up an excuse for that (one of my better ones I''d say). "In her room. I guess she wants some privacy¡ª"


    "She''s still mad at me, isn''t she?"


    I thought she was going to say that. "Yeah. She is."


    "I think I should go to her," Mira said and stood up, and I scrambled up to stop her as she continued, "I''ve been dancing around this issue a lot, and I think it''s time to talk it out and just figure it out once and for all. Should I tell her about the woman that died? I know that I lied to her, but maybe my gut is right and telling the truth will help her understand and¡ª"


    "Slow down," I said, though I wished I could command my heart to do that. "I think what May needs is just some time."


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Mira didn''t say anything before sitting down and adding, "You''re right. I''m acting like Mom and Dad now, aren''t I? Being a little too pushy and too impatient."


    "Nah," I said. "Mom and Dad would''ve barged into that room a long time ago. Patience is definitely not a virtue for them."


    "How will I know when it''s the right time?"


    I shrugged. "Beats me. It might be something you just know, like love or something."


    Mira suddenly started laughing. "You''ve probably read too many books."


    "What does that have to do with anything I just said?"


    "You know, love isn''t just something you know," she said. "Well, not all of it. A small part of it is like that little spark, but most of love is about communication and listening and understanding. I guess the best analogy is that it''s like a heart. That spark of possibility is the heart itself, but you''ve got to work the heart and beat it to make it work."


    "So, you''re saying that love is a bloody organ," I said, and she chuckled. "That was either the best or the worst analogy that I''ve ever heard in my life."


    "It took me a while to figure that one out," she said and stood up, and for a second, I thought that she was going to go get May and that my whole plan failed. "I''ll go get some firewood. It seems to be running low."


    "I''ll go get the cards," I said. "What do you want to play? Egyptian War or Slap Jack?"


    "The first one," she said. "My hand hurts from yesterday''s game."


    "Totally," I said, with a hint of sarcasm. "You can just say that you don''t want a rematch."


    So then we ended up playing a bunch of games of Slap Jack before switching to Egyptian War after we got bored. I beat her up badly in Slap Jack, but got beaten up even worse in Egyptian War, and sometime while we were playing these games May came home, and Mira noticed her standing next to us. "You want to play?"


    May shook her head. "What''s for lunch?"


    "I''ll go check Mom and Dad''s food list," she said, standing up and checking the phone''s laying on top of the greenbox, pouring bright white light onto the sprouting plants. "Oh. It''s way past noon already. I''ll go make something."


    May nodded and headed back to our room, and I followed her. Once we closed the door, she burst into a smile and opened up the toy box. "Look what I found."


    There was certainly a much larger haul compared to last time. Maybe around two dozen cans, ranging from brussel sprouts to chocolate pudding. There was also a half-full flour package, a small package of kidney beans, and an even smaller package of dried boba. I also noticed that there were some new miscellaneous things, like a plastic bag of batteries or towels or new pants.


    "And you got that all from a house?"


    "Yeah," she said.


    "Did anyone see you?"


    "No," she said. "And stop panicking and just appreciate what we have. I''ll probably go out and try for another house next week."


    "She''s going to get suspicious, you know?" I said. "I can''t just keep saying that you''re in your room because you''re mad at her, and at some point, she''s going to talk to you."


    "Well, what am I supposed to do?"


    "I don''t know," I said.


    "Well we''ll figure things out later," she said and left the room, and I followed behind.


    Mom and Dad came back really late, like a bit after the sun had set when the sky was a deep navy, and the stars were just barely visible. I''m surprised that they even found their way back without any flashlights, though I suppose that I have the moon to credit for making nighttime much brighter. They didn''t eat dinner and just went straight to bed, plopping down on their mattress in the living room and falling asleep. May brought a blanket for them, and when Mira came back home late at night, she asked, "Did Mom and Dad eat?"


    "No," I said.


    "We''ve got to make sure that they do," Mira said. "I''ll try convincing them, but Mom and Dad are still mad¡ª"


    "I''ll do it," May said, cutting into the conversation and both of us looked at her weirdly. "What? You know I''ve got ears, right? And plus, Mom and Dad aren''t mad at me right now, so they might listen to me better, and let''s be honest, Neal, there''s a reason why you were the worst debater on your team."


    I ignored May, and Mira said, "Thank you."


    "I''m doing it for us," May said before yawning. "I''m going to sleep now."


    And when she left to brush, Mira turned towards me. "I made progress, right?"


    "Maybe," I said with a shrug. "I don''t know. I can barely tell what she''s thinking sometimes."


    And soon after that Mira went to sleep, and then when everyone was snoring, and I got bored just staring at the crackling fire, so I went and got that book and resumed where I had left off, right before they were going to kiss. There was a bit of a delay, and I skimmed over the unrealistically witty dialogue and the faux nervousness of these confident characters to get to what I was looking for.


    When they kissed, they said that it was like fireworks and joy and everything good. Even though I knew that it was a fantasy and that it''d more likely be awkward and messy and weird, I let myself take in the fantasy and thought really hard about kissing the guy in the magazine with his perfect face and everything, and just for a second, I think I liked the idea. I think I liked thinking of his soft palms brushing away my hair, his scruff just grazing on my cheek, his warm breath on me.


    And I guess if everything goes back to normal, I wonder if I''ll be confident enough to say that I do like the idea. I wish I could say that, but I just can''t, and maybe that''s what the apocalypse is for, so that the new me will be better than the old me.

 Chapter 20, Part 4

    September 9


    For the food situation, we ended up going for the sneakier route. Last time we had force fed Mom and Dad, the situation was different because while we didn''t have any sunlight, at least we had a stable but diminishing food source, but now, they''d probably be less receptive to us breaking their food rationing list.


    "That seems like a lot of string beans," Mom said.


    "Maybe that can had extra ones," May said with a shrug. "But who cares? When good things come, don''t question them."


    Mom was right though. We had given her one and a half cans of string beans, splitting that extra can we planned to give her across brunch and dinner. Mira wanted to give them three meals, but May thought that that was too suspicious and didn''t work well with their food apportionment, so we ended up going with her plan.


    "And you guys are following our food list?" Mom asked. "And portioning everything correctly?"


    "Yes. Now eat and stop being weird."


    "I''m being careful," she said and looked at both May and me. "You guys want some?"


    "Worry about us later," I said, and then, Mom started eating her food. Then, we woke Dad up and made him eat food, and he asked the same questions as Mom, and we told him the same reassurances, mixing lies and truth together.


    And soon, they began looking a lot better, and Mom began moving around the house, organizing the pantry, counting the amount of firewood, before pulling out an old workplace calendar, x-ing out the dates up till today. She then took out expo markers and began assigning tasks for every day, and May said to me, "Maybe, it might have been better to not give them food."


    "Mom is probably going to forget about whatever she''s making," I said. "Considering how she completely forgot about the textbooks that we got. Have you even touched the textbooks?"


    May shook her head. "I tried reading the book that you got, Gatsby or something, but it was so boring. I don''t even know why the librarian person recommended it."


    "Yeah," I said. "Classics are super overrated anyways."


    "But I think this time Mom will remember," she said. "It''s like last time she was just trying to, you know, make everything normal normal even though it isn''t, but now, she''s just trying to make things normal."


    "So deep," I said. "I have no clue what you just said."


    "Whatever," she said and walked away to a corner of the room before plopping onto the couch and staring at the ceiling. For all our worries about the world ending and people starving and dying, sometimes, the apocalypse can feel so boring, almost. We''re washing dishes and watering our tiny sproutlings and playing card games as the world crumbles around us.


    When it was the evening, I stared at the sky, watching the colors swirl around, the oranges and lavenders and ruby reds, and it made sense why it was called magic hour. Because when the sky comes alive like that, it''s almost as if anything is possible because the world is glowing and breathing life and saying that everything''s going to be alright for the night as the pinks fade to deep purples and then indigos.


    I thought about Leon''s wish about hot-air balloons in the sky and the dusk blossoms around them, and I thought about me with some guy that actually cares about me being there. The awkward chemistry, the warm breaths, the stargazing and constellations speckled above us. Maybe it could be real because it''s magic hour and anything''s possible.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    But then again, magic hour isn''t really magic, and the colors are just light bouncing weirdly off of air and dust and clouds, and I''m worried that everything won''t turn out the way that I want it to. I feel like I''m taking a step forward and a step back every time I write about this. I know the way forward, and I know it''s right, but it''s like I don''t know why I can''t take it and just say it.


    That''s exactly when Dad interrupted me. "What are you thinking of? You''ve got that look, like you''re staring in the distance."


    I snapped out of my stare. "Nothing. I''m going to eat dinner now."


    "Sit down," Dad said gently. "I know I''ve been busy lately, but I feel like we have really had a lot of father-son time."


    "There''s nothing really much to talk about?"


    "Anything interesting in the book you''re reading?" he asked, and I shrugged before he added, "Then, tell me about your last book. Anything exciting happen?"


    I couldn''t tell Dad what I was reading about, but I, for some odd reason, was feeling extra bold in that moment, so I said, "Well there''s, I guess, some romance¡ª"


    "Romance," Dad said. "I didn''t know you were into that since it''s so..."


    But I got the memo of what Dad was saying, so I quickly backtracked. "It''s only a small part of the story. Most of it is in a fantasy world, with dragons and knights and people fighting to save a kingdom."


    "Sounds awesome," Dad said, and I cringed inside as a moment of silence stretched along. Then he pointed to his lip. "You really need to shave¡ª"


    "Goodbye," I said and left the room. Dealing with my emotions was more than enough change for today and tomorrow until forever.


    Dinner was relatively standard. Everyone was a bit more upbeat today, though Mom and Mira, when she came back at around eight or nine, didn''t talk much, except for when Dad warned us about tomorrow. "We''ve got to be careful tomorrow," Dad said. "We got lucky last time with the mayoral meeting, but that was when there was still food and security. May, you''re staying at home with your grandparents. It''s too dangerous and you''re not old enough."


    Normally she''d have a snarky retort, but she just sighed without resistance. "Fine."


    Dad turned to Mira. "Mira, I want you to bring your handgun."


    "What?" Mom said. "We never discussed this."


    "This isn''t up for discussion," Dad said. "It''s dangerous out there. Last time, weapons were kept outside, but this time, guns are going to be flowing all across the room, so we need to keep ourselves safe. Otherwise, we might just end up like the couple last week."


    "We can take knives or lighters," Mom said.


    "Knives are more dangerous than guns," Dad said. "They can slip, and we can cut ourselves badly. Guns are safe. There are safeties and other measures to prevent them from hurting someone accidentally."


    "We agreed that we weren''t having guns in our house and around our kids."


    "We agreed to not bring guns into the house," Dad said. "But we never said that we couldn''t take them out for self-defense."


    "Are you prepared¡ª"


    "Yes. I''m prepared to shoot the gun to kill," Dad replied, deadly serious. "I don''t like it, and it goes against all my religious principles, but there''s nothing that''ll stop me from defending my children, nothing. Mira already taught me the basics, and I''m ready"


    "Let''s have a vote¡ª"


    "Just trust me," Dad said. "I''ve made mistakes, but I know this is the right thing to do. And you owe me for the rockfall situation."


    Mom gave Mira a glare before looking back at Dad. There was an awkward silence here, May and I scraping our spoons on the bottom of the bowl, attempting to get the last of the cool coup. Mom then sighed. "I''m trusting you on this. You both. If anything bad happens¡ª"


    "Nothing will."


    "This is a bad idea," Mom muttered and put her bowl in the sink.


    "It won''t be," Dad said. "Just trust me."


    It''s going to be bad, but I didn''t say anything because I didn''t want this argument to continue. But it''s going to be scary having a gun around us, and I know that I''m supposed to feel comfortable around guns because it''s the apocalypse, but I don''t because having the power to kill so easily, right in your hands, it''s terrifying. I remember that time when that gang of armed men showed up before disappearing into the blizzard of ash, and I remember just waiting for the bullets to start raining all over me.


    But I don''t want to ruin things with Mira, and I think I have to force myself to get used to it because this is the new normal after all. I''ve just got to try not to think this way because at some point, I won''t be able to.


    But still, I can only hope that this normal doesn''t end with me lying on the street, bullet hole in my gut as I finally see what comes after life.

 Chapter 21, Part 1

    September 10


    We were careful on our walk there, Mira in the front, Dad in the back, Mom right behind Mira, making sure that I didn''t get close to the gun holstered on her waist. Without Grandma and Grandpa slowing us down, we moved pretty quickly, staying close together as we approached town hall.


    Unfortunately, there was a ton of fog this morning, just blanketing the skies and air around us, though for a second, I thought it was one of those ash blizzards, and we could barely see more than ten or so feet in front of us, so we creeped forwards, one step at a time.


    As we walked towards city hall, there were more blobs of dark figures, and Mom held me awkwardly close as we filed into city hall, sticking ourselves to the back wall as people filled out the front rows and clumped together in the middle. People were carrying signs, some professional looking and illustrated while others were just crude markings on cardboard, and the angriest people congregated around the front, near the two hapless security guards. They had their hands on their guns holstered alongside a bottle of mace spray on their hips.


    It took me a while before I realized that everyone in the room was armed. There were no metal detectors, and I noticed that people were carrying crowbars and had knives strapped to their boots. But most of all, there were guns everywhere, from small handguns that almost every clustering of people had to the rifles of some of the older, white men that were sitting near the sides.


    Where did all these guns come from? I''ve never seen any guns before in public, and everyone here hates guns. Or that''s what I thought. Maybe they hated guns, but then changed, just like Dad with guns because he was talking with Mira about them.


    "If the worst comes, give me the gun," Dad said. "And you make a run for it."


    "No," Mira said. "I''m the only one trained to do it. I''ll do it to keep us safe."


    "We''re going to do neither," Mom said, butting into the conversation. "We all run, unless we want to end up in a shootout."


    So then I added something, "Mom has a good point. Being a hero is good and all, but it''s not going to work, and we might only get hurt or targeted."


    Mom nodded approvingly. "We need to keep ourselves safe, especially with the hospitals down."


    I saw Mira open her mouth, so I interrupted before she could speak. "And to keep other people safe too. If you fire a gun into a crowd like this, you''ll only get another innocent person killed, and we can''t afford this, not with the vigil you saw in the hospital."


    "It''s for everyone''s good," Mom said, understanding my message. "We''re keeping everyone safe."


    And then Mira stood down a bit, her eyes softening. "Okay. We''ll get out into the open first. Then, it''ll be better for me to make the shot to take them down."


    "I''ll make the shot," Dad said. "I''ll do it."


    "But Dad¡ª"


    "I''ll do it," Dad said again, firmly. "I don''t care, but I''m not going to let you do it. I''ve played enough video games to know how aiming works, and I''ll make the shot if we need it. You just run."


    "I can''t run," Mira said. "And it''s my life, and I get to choose whether¡ª"


    "Maybe you''ll help someone else in the future," Dad said. "But not this type of help."


    I don''t know whether Mira was going to say something or not, but I was surprised by Dad. I guess I never knew he cared so much, but I guess that''s not so surprising either because sometimes he cares too much, and I think this time, it might actually be for the good. All of a sudden, there was this unusual quiet that swept throughout the room as the mayor stepped in, flanked by the announcer guy.


    He certainly looked gaunt, much like the rest of us, and a bit pale, though less skinny than the rest of us, and walked with a distinct limp. Even the people holding up the protest signs put them down for just a second because no one expected our mayor to look this bad.


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    "Are we getting the food deliveries back?" someone shouted, breaking the silence.


    The mayor sighed. "We tried our best in Sacramento, but there''s just not enough gasoline and security forces to navigate through the cities and roads up north of us to reach our community. It''s getting dangerous out there, and there''s just not enough resources."


    "Well you should''ve tried harder," someone shouted, and people agreed with "Yeah"s and one loud "Hell yeah!"


    "We tried, but they''ve apportioned the gasoline so carefully that they cannot afford even a couple of miles of detour," the mayor said. "Resources are so spare right now, and as of the moment, only our northern neighbors have clear enough roadways to get these food deliveries. But don''t lose hope. If we are able to clear the mountain roads, we may have the ability to receive these food deliveries again. We''ve got a bit of spare gasoline, and construction equipment to clear up the roads, and I''m sure someone here must''ve worked in construction."


    As soon as he finished, I think he realized that he had made two big mistakes: revealing that the city still had gas and that the northern cities still had food deliveries. All of the sudden, there was this massive clamor.


    "Give me the fuel," a lady shouted. "We all need it for the trip down South."


    "City council hoarding food and now gas," a man holding one of the signs spitted out. "Maybe they''re hoarding the food deliveries too."


    One of the men with the rifles stood up on his seat, and announced, "I''m heading up north to get some food for me and my family. Anybody else joining me."


    There was a chorus of "Hell yeahs" and "You can count me in" and "We''re going to take down the corrupt government." And while a large group formed around him, ready to trample other cities, another larger group surrounded the mayor, the two security guards barely holding back the tide of people ready to engulf him, both with questions and physically.


    "Please don''t do this," the mayor said. "We need to take the high road. We are better than this."


    A woman carrying a crowbar spat at him. "I''ve got children to take care of, so don''t you go around moralizing me."


    "But don''t you want your children to grow up with safety and order," he said. "Don''t you want them to look up to you as¡ª"


    "I want my children to grow up, and I''ll do anything for that," she said and disappeared into the mob ready to plunder the cities above us, as the mob surrounding the mayor surged towards him. He tried escaping through the backdoors, and the security team began grabbing out the pepper spray, aiming it at eye level where it''d hurt the most.


    All while that was happening, we all were pressed against the wall, trying to sneak out of the door. My heart was pounding, and my eyes flashed across the room, scanning to see whether we''d become the target for violence. There was a moment when my heart skipped a beat, as a person approached us, holding what looked like a knife and a bottle of mace, but they got distracted by something else, and we all escaped city hall as the sharp pepper smell filled the air and the cacophony of scream became louder.


    We basically ran home, the collapsed houses and cracked glass and ash-stained sweetgum trees just blurring past us until we stepped into the house, panting deeply, as May asked, "Why are you guys running?"


    "We''re not ever going back to a meeting," Dad said. "Next Saturday, I''ll be the only one going."


    "I''m going too," Mom said. "Everyone needs to be partnered up."


    "I''m going," Mira said before Mom shook her head and said, "You need to stay at home. Not even an army of guns will be able to save you from that crowd. And if, and only if, someone is trying to break into our house or threaten your brother and sister, your skills may come in handy."


    There was an awkward pause because I was shocked that Mom changed her mind. First it was Dad and now it was her, and it''s like everyone is adapting, getting more used to the idea of guns while I''m standing here unchanged. The more survivalist part of me would want me to be like the other guys in the movies: pick up a gun and learn enthusiastically because guns are "cool." But I just can''t do that. There''s just something wrong about guns, and I know it.


    May broke the awkward silence. "Hello? No one has told me what''s going on or what happened?"


    "Angry people happened," Mom said. "And some people wanted to hurt¡ª"


    "Mom. I''m not a six-year-old. Just tell me what happened straight."


    Mom sighed and apologized before telling the whole story, and May nodded along. When Mom finished, no one really said anything. There really wasn''t much to say because we all knew what was happening up north, with the cities that are just half a day''s walk away. Just before we broke apart, Mom said, "We aren''t going to be like that. We''re going to be better."


    All of us were pretty confused, but I think that summed up about how everyone felt today: confused, angry, scared. I wonder how the cities up north feel now that our people have invaded them, and I wonder if it''ll cause the famed butterfly effect, where their actions trigger the citizens of those communities to do something and so one until the avalanche of decisions collapses on us.


    I don''t know why, but I feel like something bad is going to happen. I''m probably being over-paranoid, but I don''t know. I wish I did, but I don''t think anyone in the world would know because we''re all trapped here as the world crumbles all around us.

 Chapter 21, Part 2

    September 11


    Today''s the day when we normally hold the moment of silence, but I don''t think there''s much to commemorate anymore.


    Everybody just shuffled around today, doing what we do every day: watering the sprouting plants, pushing firewood into the fireplace, sitting around and eating a bit. Sometimes, everything that''s happening feels like a skipping stone, where we''re jumping from one disaster to another with boredom and mundanity filling up the moments in between.


    The only thing different was when Mom took me to the kitchen. I thought I was in trouble and that she''d found out about Charles and the food cans, and even though I kept a bored face, I was literally panicking because I didn''t have a good excuse for this. But thankfully, she asked, "Can you keep May busy on Wednesday?"


    I was probably too surprised by this question since I expected the whole "Why are you smuggling cans of food?" or "I know what you did" because she asked that again before I managed to stammer out, "Why?"


    "I''m planning something special," Mom said. "For May''s birthday. This Thursday."


    "Oh, yeah," I said because I had completely forgotten that her birthday was coming up. I knew she told me a week or so back, but it just slipped out of my mind. "Do Mira and Dad know?"


    Mom nodded. "We''re planning something special for her. This has been tough on her because I know that you''ve got Charles and Mira''s got Leon, but I don''t think May has seen her friends for a while now."


    "Do you think we should invite them over?" I asked. "Though it might ruin the surprise a bit since we''re probably going to ask May about it, but still."


    "It''s too dangerous," Mom said. "I¡ª We just haven''t seen much of them, and it will be too dangerous. People have changed too much, and I''m worried¡ª"


    "I get it," I said. "I''ll figure something out."


    And we shuffled towards our separate ways as I plopped on the couch, staring at the crackling fireplace and thinking about 9/11. Every single year, my teachers hold that moment of silence about 9/11 before asking whether any of us were born before 9/11, and every year, they''d have the same comment about how our grade was the first year of all post-9/11 kids. They''d always say how lucky we were to be born after that tragedy, but it looks like karma caught us because we got caught in something much worse. I don''t know if there even will be enough people to have a post-Mooncrash generation.


    Even so, I wonder what they''d think about us. I don''t know if it was happening today or yesterday, but some people from the town must''ve raided the cities to the north of us or at least tried to. I''m trying not to think about it, and I think we''re all trying to avoid talking about it, but a lot of people must''ve died fighting over tin cans and jars of calorie-filled goo. Those future people would probably think that we were savages and cruel, and they''d be both right and wrong because this cruelty and selfishness isn''t a choice but a means for survival. I know that it sounds like I''m justifying the actions of the raiders, and I''m not, but I don''t know. I don''t know anything anymore.


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    Dinner was the same as usual, Dad telling all of us the schedule for tomorrow, where Mira, May, and I had to go and gather water while he and Mom were chopping firewood. He wanted us to gather more than fifteen buckets, about twenty this time, because we all stank since we ran out of showering water a couple days back.


    May wasn''t really happy about this. "More water buckets? It''s my birthday week."


    "I can take some," Mira said. "Actually, Neal and I can do all of your water gathering tomorrow."


    I groaned a little but nodded. May didn''t say much for a bit before saying, "Whatever. I''ll just do it. But I''m remembering this for my sweet sixteen, so you guys better get me a car and some new leggings."


    "If¡ª" Mom said before quickly changing it. "When we make it to your sixteenth birthday, you can get whatever you want."


    "Then, can I get a Ferrari?" May asked, half jokingly, half seriously.


    "It was to be within a budget," Mom said with a small smile.


    "Are you still obsessed with saving money? Even after the world has ended."


    "We still need to be prepared for what comes after," Mom said. "And plus, learning to budget is going to be a good habit too, especially for college and adulthood."


    No one really said anything right after Mom said that because just thinking about the idea of going to college (or in Mira''s case, going back to college) seemed both funny and depressing at the same time. For Mom to even suggest that college would be open in the near future given the fact that our world is half-buried under ash and half-flooded under the sea was hilarious in the saddest way possible.


    May turned to Mom. "You still think college, of all things, is coming back if the world stops coming to an end?"


    Mom took a deep breath and gave one of her long sighs. "It''s better to think about it that way, so that we don''t get used to the guns and violence around us because that''s not going to last forever."


    "Because everyone will kill each other at some point," May said. "I think I''ve just found the solution to world peace guys."


    "This isn''t something we joke about anymore, May," Dad said, holding Mom''s hand as he joined this conversation. "And no, everyone''s not going to kill each other because there''s a reason that humanity has lasted this long, and it''s not because people decided to start murdering each other."


    I don''t think Dad or Mom believed in what they said because just yesterday, we were all talking about taking out guns to protect ourselves and shoot other people. It''s like they''re just trying to tell a nice story to us and themselves because what''s happening now is just too much for them to handle.


    I pulled out the book once again, sneaking into the bathroom and grabbing the book out from within the depths of the cabinet. While I was sitting next to the fireplace, I nearly had a panic attack when May moved around on her bed because I thought she had woken up. I know that this fear is completely irrational because there''s no shame in liking guys and reading romance. But still, I guess just the idea of someone knowing or even suspecting anything about my, not love, but attraction, scares me.


    I guess I''m just too weird around being personal because that''s probably why the scariest portion of the book to read was just one guy telling another guy that he cares about him and that he loves him. I''m trying to imagine this scenario, standing in front of a guy that I care about and maybe holding his hands with our fingers intertwined and saying the words "I care about you" or worse, "I love you," but I just can''t even imagine saying those words. It just feels too close, too risky, and maybe I''m not made for this type of love.


    All the books make the closeness of relationships to be warm and glowing and right, and even reading them, without overthinking it, it feels right. But as soon as I picture myself there, this picturesque image crumbles apart like a mound of ash.

 Chapter 21, Part 3

    September 12


    I noticed that Dad was picking at the pink tape on the bottom of the axe in the morning, the one covering up the Hunters'' name on the axe.


    "Stop picking at it," I told Dad.


    "It''s bothering me," Dad said. "And it''s getting dirty from all the sweat and ash."


    "Just keep it," I said, trying to come up with a reason for him to not rip the pink tape off and expose all of my lies. "It''s good for your grip."


    "It just makes the axes slipperier when I hold it," Dad said. "And it''s placed too low to provide enough grip. I''ll rip it off this afternoon."


    That sent me into a panic, and my hands were clammy as I searched for a solid excuse before coming up with a half-decent one that would at least stop him, just until I could figure out a good way to permanently end this problem. "I borrowed it from the garden, and just in case they need it back again, I don''t want to return it damaged or without the pink tape. I think they were using it for identification or something like that. Just don''t mess with it."


    "That''s a good point," Dad said before stopping his picking at the duct tape, the first edges already partially ripped off. "But why do you care so much?"


    "Just don''t touch it. Leave things the way that they are. Inertia is great."


    Mira suddenly entered the room, with a thick jacket on and a scarf tucked around her neck. "Inertia is a property of matter."


    And, to the utter bewilderment of Mom and Dad, who probably thought we were going a bit crazy because they had literally no clue about what was going on, we both started laughing and faux shouting, "Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill Nye the science guy."


    "God, you two are so weird," May said while Dad added, "I might need to check the water to make sure that none of us are getting lead poisoning."


    And then we had a small laugh before going wood and water gathering. Mondays truly did suck, and even though I should be used to carrying buckets since this wasn''t my first time, by the third round of water gathering, my arms were burning, and I was panting into the water bucket. The sun was shining between the skeleton-gray branches of the sycamore trees, but the weather was stubbornly cool, and the world was quiet around us.


    Well, at least until we were on our fourth round, when we saw a gray-haired woman dipping their bucket into the creek, the bright blue plastic bobbing on the murky water. She stood up and nodded at us with a smile. "Good afternoon."


    "Good afternoon too," Mira said, as she reflexively put herself in front of us.


    "You folks doing alright?" she asked.


    Mira nodded. "As alright as we can be."


    "Well I suppose that is the best that we can do," she said before pausing. "I haven''t seen you folks before. Well, I haven''t seen much of anyone recently. Are you guys from the east side of town?"


    "Northeast," Mira said, her lie coming out so quickly and smoothly that it sounded like she was telling the truth. "We only come down here because the water is clearer."


    Both of those were lies because we live in the southwest part of the city, and the water in the creek was muddy and filled with sediment, and going to the reservoir in the northern part of the city would have much clearer water. I think the lady knew that we were lying because she then approached us, and Mira put her hand on her waist, instinctively reaching for a gun that wasn''t there.


    "That must be terrible," she said. "I''ve heard from many people that most of the houses there collapsed during the collapse. Is yours alright?"


    We all looked at each other. Mom and Dad would probably know how to defuse this situation or confront her, but we didn''t know what to say. I couldn''t even tell whether she was trying to pry information from us or whether she was just being nice and polite, and that irrational paranoia has infected even us too. Thank goodness that May had a good response, "I thought you said that you haven''t seen or talked to anyone in a while."


    "Well, yes." The woman gave an awkward smile and picked up the bucket. "It was nice meeting you folks."


    Mira gave her a terse wave as the women put on a straw hat and walked up the banks of the river and down the road. We waited a couple minutes in silence, dipping our water buckets into the creek and letting them sit there for a while until we were confident that the woman wasn''t in earshot.


    "I thought you said all people were good," May said, looking straight at Mira.


    "Most people are innately good."


    "So then why''d you try pulling at your gun that you don''t have?" May said. "I saw you reach for your waist, so don''t deny it."


    There was an awkward moment of silence. Mira let out a long sigh before replying, "I panicked, and I got worried that she would get close to you both and hurt you, so that''s why¡ª"


    "So you don''t believe that people are good," May replied. "You believed that lady was going to pull out a gun and shoot us or something, and you were going to shoot her. So what''s even the whole point of protecting other people if you think everyone''s dangerous."


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    Mira could barely stammer out a reply before May added, "You''re such a hypocrite."


    There was a long silence. I tried walking up the banks so that maybe they would follow me, and that their fight would end because we''d all be too tired from walking while carrying these heavy water buckets. But they stood by the creek, the water rushing over the stones, and imagining hard enough, I could hear the chirps of crickets and rustle of leaves on branches.


    "I¡ª I am a hypocrite," Mira said. "And I''m trying to be better at not letting the cynicism of the world around us get to me because it''s so easy to get scared and worried, especially after the town hall meeting, where normal people, good people decided to go and storm the cities to the north of us for food."


    "Then stop wasting your time," May said. "If good people are becoming bad, then who knows when the people you''re working with are going to turn against you. Against us."


    "They won''t if we have community. That''s the most important part in keeping people looking out for each other, and that''s what''s going to keep us safe," Mira said. "Because it''s easier to hate and turn on people that you don''t know, so I''m keeping us safe by keeping us in touch with other people. And I''m keeping everyone, including us, safe by going out every evening to make sure that people aren''t looting other people''s homes or killing other people or¡ª"


    "What if you saw someone looting a home?" May said, and I shot a warning glance at her because it was far too dangerous for her to mention that.


    "Maybe we should go," I was going to say before Mira cut me off.


    "I''d give them a warning," she said. "That''s what the Shepards taught us to do."


    "A warning shot or what?" May asked.


    "Verbal warning. A warning shot might get someone nearby injured."


    "What if they don''t listen? Because you guys aren''t the real police, and the real police don''t exist anymore."


    "Then we''ll move towards them, and we''ll announce that we are armed, and that we have guns. We''ll pull them out just in case they think that we''re bluffing or lying."


    "And if they don''t listen?" May asked. "And what if they have a knife or a gun of their own because everyone carries them around since it''s the freaking apocalypse?"


    Mira didn''t say anything, but I think we all knew the implication was: she and her partner would shoot that looter and injure them, which would be akin to a death sentence considering the state of the hospital. After a long moment of silence, Mira said, "I¡ª I don''t know. It''s complicated and¡ª"


    "So you''d shoot them?" May said, basically stating out loud the idea that Mira was too afraid to talk about. "For just grabbing things from abandoned houses? What if they have a family to feed? What if¡ª"


    "Just stop talking," I said because I was fed up with their arguments, and because if there''s one thing that I hate more than anything, it''s people fighting and arguing because no one gets anywhere. "Let''s just go. Hurry up."


    There was a long moment of silence, neither of them speaking, and then, surprisingly, May and Mira dropped their argument, and Mira trudged forwards, some of the water splashing out from the sides of her bucket as she sped down a different street from where we came street, leaving May and I trailing pretty far behind.


    "Where are we going?" I shouted.


    "Scenic route," Mira shouted back and continued walking quickly. I knew what she meant. We were taking a detour, a long way around the sprawl of our suburban neighborhood to make sure that we weren''t being followed directly back home by that woman and whoever she was associated with. I doubt that many people were surviving well alone.


    I turned to May, who was panting hard, just like me, as we lugged the buckets. "You know if you want to continue doing your scavenging trips, it might be better to have Mira out of the house more often."


    "Our trips don''t even align," she said. "And plus, it''s a waste of time. And I hate people that waste their time."


    "It''s not a waste of time for her," I said. "And it''s good that it keeps us safe."


    "She''s being stupid," May said. "Those people she''s working with, they know where we live, and they will turn on us."


    "They won''t."


    "How do you know?" May said, kicking at a stone on the ground, sending it skittering across the ash-caked sidewalk, and stopped walking and placed her bucket on the concrete as we took a small break. "They''ve got big guns, and all we''ve got is a tiny little handgun and an axe."


    "We''ve just got to trust them," I said. "You can''t be this cynical about everything."


    "Well, if cynical means being very careful and keeping us alive, then yes, I can be cynical, and there''s nothing wrong about it."


    "That''s not even what¡ª Never mind. We may have a problem with Dad," I replied. "He''s picking at the pink duct tape."


    "I know. I saw him this morning. How long until he picks it off completely?"


    "A couple weeks. Hopefully," I said. "I wrapped probably more than ten times, and it''s duct tape, so it sticks pretty hard, but I don''t know. We''ve got to do something about this."


    "No duh," she replied as we picked up the buckets and continued to walk. "We''ll start figuring something out on Friday. I just want to have my birthday in peace."


    "So no dangerous scavenging missions this week?"


    "Maybe," she said with a shrug. "I''ll see."


    "You heard what Mira said," I said. "Or what she didn''t say, about them shooting the looters. You could get hurt."


    "Eyes," she said. "I''ve got perfect 20/20 vision. And plus, because she couldn''t say it out loud, I doubt that anyone would be able to shoot even if they saw me. You need to stop worrying. We''ve already had this conversation a billion times."


    And so we walked around the neighborhood, following Mira''s ashy footprints around partially collapsed houses and twinkling windchimes hanging from porches and the occasional creaking of doors and cars abandoned after the earthquake. We walked for a while before we saw Mira, just standing on the sidewalk, waiting for us. She pointed somewhere in the distance, and I saw a thin line of smoke drifting from a chimney.


    My heart leaped, but I wasn''t really sure if it was because there was a good chance that there were other people doing well or because there was another person that could kill us or rob us. Maybe it''s something in between, but either way, after seeing that, we all walked a little closer, eyes watching the rusting mailboxes and white picket fences stained with crumbling ash since we were in an unfamiliar neighborhood. By the time that we had reached home, our arms were on fire, and Mira decided that we would finish grabbing the water tomorrow.


    So we waited around and watered the plants as they raced towards our phone lights perched on top of the greenbox, as we entered the soaring phase of the skipping stone, where nothing special was going on at all. Mom and Dad entered the house late at night, while Mira was going on her night watch duty, and just drifted right to bed, as I put on some heavy-duty gloves to grab the firewood and put it next to the fireplace. I feel bad that I have to wake Mom up, but I guess that''s just life.


    I didn''t pick up the book today, mostly because I was thinking about what I wrote down yesterday, about caring. I think I know why that idea is freaking me out. It''s because when you tell someone you care or that you love them, it''s just so honest, and to let someone know that is just so vulnerable and invasive. I don''t even get how you can do that, and I guess I don''t get it because I''m not even being honest to anyone about how I feel about anything.


    Hell, I can''t even be honest to myself about how I feel about guys.

 Chapter 21, Part 4

    September 13


    This morning''s water gathering was quiet, like usual. Mom and Dad were sleeping in because they had to stay up all night attending to the fireplace, so after a breakfast of half a cup of rice and some canned beans that we had to painfully cook by the fire, all of us kids set off to finish gathering the last three buckets, or in the case of May, two buckets.


    There was a heavy fog in the morning, and I could see dewdrops forming on the dying grass and the few stubborn weeds that still remained (along with annoyingly misting up my glasses). For a second, I saw a darting of a shadow in the fog behind me, and the memory of those men in the ash storm flash through my mind. But it turned out to be nothing, probably just a deer or the gust of the wind.


    When Mom and Dad woke up in the afternoon, they didn''t look too good, their faces were a bit gaunt and pale, probably because they didn''t eat any dinner, as far as I know, and they had to stay up all night tending the fireplace. I probably should''ve stayed up at night instead of them and woken up Mira to do Dad''s middle of the night shift. Dad seemed to be counting firewood while Mom disappeared into the garage and got a long tube of wrapping paper that she probably was going to stash in an old suitcase in her room for May''s "surprise" birthday.


    I met with Charles this afternoon. For a second, I thought he had died or something because I literally spent an hour waiting outside without any sign of him, and another hour sitting inside until I realized that I had completely forgotten about the food bags because I''m such an idiot. And the second that I realized that I saw him walking towards our house, and I didn''t have enough time to formulate a plan to somehow sneak the food underneath Mom and Dad''s tired but still sharp eyes.


    When I stepped outside and waved at him, he waved at me pretty energetically. He looked better too, and for a second, I thought that maybe his family would be alright without food. But I know that I was just imagining things to make myself feel better because his family isn''t alright. When he stepped onto the porch, I began my apology tour. "I completely forgot about the food. Sorry about that."


    "It''s fine," he said. "We can manage."


    "I''ll see if I can sneak extra in next week," I said. "Or maybe sometime later this week."


    "Don''t worry about it," he said. "We''ll be fine."


    But will he actually be fine? I couldn''t tell if he was saying the truth or telling a lie to make me feel better like friends do.


    "You sure?" I asked, just to make sure.


    "Yeah," he said. "Anyways, back to business with your dream number four and your book writing bucket list, which is still very lame by the way. Have you got any rough drafts for me to review?"


    "I haven''t been thinking about it a lot," I said. "We should move on to your final wish now, just to make it more efficient, and finish my book after."


    "That would be cheating, so since you haven''t got any ideas," Charles said with an evil smile. "To spark some inspiration, let''s talk about dating."


    "Dating?" I asked. "Why are we even talking about it, and what does that have anything to do with me writing a book?"


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    "I don''t know," he said. "I feel like everyone but us talks about this¡ª"


    "Well, we shouldn''t conform to societal pressures. You know, independence and all."


    He ignored me and proceeded to plow on. "So tell me, was there anyone you had a crush on when school was still around?"


    "You go first."


    "Well, I''m not telling you if you don''t tell me first."


    "You asked the question, so you can answer it first."


    "I asked the question to you, so you have to answer it."


    "This question is getting pointless," I said. "Talking about dating and whatever is cursed."


    "Fine," he said. "At least tell me what your ideal girlfriend would look like."


    "That''s even worse. It''s like objectifying," I replied. "And since you asked the question, why don''t you answer it first?"


    "You know that AI is getting so advanced that they''re getting the ability to mimic human speech," he said as I nodded along. "Well, that''s what my ideal girlfriend would be like, but more anime-like."


    "That''s just creepy," I said. "Like why would you want a robot, anime-girlfriend?"


    "There''s no disappointment with robots and machines," he said. "Like, you can''t get rejected, and whatever you don''t like, you can just change."


    "All of that seems fake."


    "But it is real¡ª"


    "But it''s not," I said. "I don''t know anything about love¡ª"


    "You know what? We can finish this philosophical debate about future things later. Now tell me."


    Now was a chance to come clean that I''ve never really thought about an ideal girlfriend, but I have most definitely thought about an ideal guy I''d like to be with, like the perfect guy in the magazine. But I didn''t say that because I''m just too much of a coward, and instead, I thought really hard about what I''d want in an ideal girlfriend because I''ve got to at least try for Charles. But I couldn''t think of anything and couldn''t make something up to make Charles feel better, so I just said, "I haven''t really thought about it. Dating is, like, a college thing, and we''re still in the middle of high school."


    "Well, given everything happening around us, I''d say that it''s safe to say that college isn''t happening soon," he replied. "So we might as well make college right now."


    "I mean, I don''t know."


    "What do you mean, you don''t know?"


    "I don''t know," I said.


    "I feel like you''re dodging the question."


    "No, I''m not," I said. "Anyways, I''ve figured out what I''m going to write about. ''Charles and his Anime Robot Girlfriend - A Human-Digital Love Story.''"


    "No."


    "Yes," I said. "It''ll be great."


    "Now that is objectively creepy," he said.


    "It''s not," I said. "It''s like hitting two birds with one stone: we get my book down and your future romance all at one go together."


    "But that''s not real," he said, flipping my own argument against me, so I did the same to him.


    "Like you said, we''ve got to experience the future now, and in any form possible," I said, and he gave up on his argument and we began our brainstorm session, filled with terrible puns from Charles, horrible ideas from me, and we basically ended the same way that we started, virtually idealess and completely stuck on my book project. It''s not like the ideas weren''t fun, but I don''t know, I guess I was struggling to find any way to expand on the idea. Nothing was really connecting.


    But while we were talking and joking around, with the skies clear and cloudless, everything felt so normal that it scared me. It was as if college and internships and everything that I worried about before was coming back and that I''d finally have to face the future again. And just for a smallest second before instantly taking it back a thousand times over, I wished that the ash clouds would sweep in, so that this would never come true, and that I''d find whatever chaotic peace that we had when the ash clouds snowed us in.


    Sometimes, I don''t know, it almost scares me how much I can''t move on. I want to be like those people that just brace uncertainty without fear, the ones that just look at the future and just rush towards it and all the change that comes with it. I wish I could be better at this because maybe honesty will come out of it and being actually honest to myself and everyone else.


    But I don''t know because I don''t know if I actually want to change or that I think that I actually want to change. I don''t know anything at this point.

 Chapter 21, Part 5

    September 14


    "Mom asked you to distract me, right?" May asked. "Because you are acting really weird, and because I am 99% sure that Mom is planning a surprise party."


    "You''re going to have to act surprised tomorrow," I said, coming clean with the truth since I was tired playing card games in our room for the whole morning and afternoon with May.


    "That''s easy enough," May said. "Oh my gosh, Mom. I''m so surprised by this!"


    "You need to tone down on the sarcasm and practice your acting skills."


    ''You want me to start crying?"


    "I think that''d make Mom happy," I said and pulled out an old board game. I''d play Scrabble, but May is not into it since it "requires too much brain power" to play, and I''m honestly too lazy to punch numbers in a calculator and keep track of values. I remember that a long time ago there was this fantasy board game that I can''t remember that we''d all play at one of Dad''s coworkers'' houses, and I wonder if one of the abandoned toy stores would have them. People were hoarding food, water, toilet paper, even survival books in the beginning, but I doubt anyone broke into stores to loot board games. Though, honestly, who knows what people are thinking?


    We spent pretty much all day in the room, and by the time Mom called us out for dinner, I think anyone who had a brain cell could figure out that Mom was planning something. Dinner ended up being super awkward since the planners (aka Mom, Mira, and Dad) were pretending that everything was normal while the people stuck in the room (May and I) pretty much knew that whatever they were saying was to try and distract us from what they were actually doing.


    Still, I do hope that tomorrow is good. I remember the day of the wedding, with the glowing lights and aroma of food drifting throughout the air, and even though I know that I said I would look back and hate it someday in the future, at least for right now, I wish that tomorrow would be like that. Everything seems so down right now.


    September 15


    It turns out that Mom was planning a spa day.


    "With everything going on, we haven''t had much of a chance just to relax and unwind," Mom said. "Maybe it''ll feel more normal."


    Well, it certainly wasn''t normal since we had never actually done a home spa ever before, but I think she thought it''d take our minds off of the bloodshed that was probably in the north and everything around us. Even though doom and gloom might be keeping us alive, I guess even she is tired of constantly worrying about our safety and not dying.


    In the morning, Mom and Dad grabbed some old aromatic candles that an old neighbor had given to us a long while back and lit them while I was assigned to mix boiling water with cold water in old pots, so that they''d be a pleasant warmth. Apparently, the reason that Mom took so long to call us out of the room was not because she and Dad weren''t able to find a lotion or facial, but because she and Dad spent all day gathering enough water so that we wouldn''t run out when we were doing this.


    After I had finished mixing the water, I was assigned to help Dad with running the whole spa thing since it was a whole girl''s day even. "We''ll have a guys'' day out," Dad said. "Just you and me doing whatever we want."


    "Whatever," I said. I didn''t mind not getting a special day for myself, and spending all day with Dad seemed tiring, and anyways, having Mom, Mira, and May in the same room, doing the same things together really helped heal whatever is happening in between them.


    I noticed that even though it was May''s birthday, Mom was being extra-nice to Mira. Maybe it was because Mom feels bad about being hard on Mira about the guns, and that she''s starting to understand why guns are needed to survive in this world. I don''t really know how to feel about this because while it''s nice that Mom and Mira aren''t spending all day glowering at each other, at the same time, I''m scared that everyone will start carrying guns around, like everything is just normal.


    Anyways, for the first part of the day, I didn''t really have to do much work since Mom was mostly taking care of Mira and May, with the whole deep shampooing and conditioning aspect while I was just running around to pick out the various lavender and citrus and eucalyptus scented lotions from the giant pile that Mom had laid out front of the bathroom.


    It was then when I realized that Mom found out about the magazine.


    When I searched throughout the cabinet, it just wasn''t there anymore, and I knew that someone had taken it, probably Mom or Dad, and that just sent me into a panic because what if they jumped to premature conclusions. I guess I just want to maybe tell them about this, but on my own terms once I''ve figured everything out because right now, I only kinda know but have no clue how to say it.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Anyways, after a few seconds of irrational panic, I realized that Mom and Dad wouldn''t be able to trace the magazine back to me, and if anything, they''d probably go to May or just think that it was just some old magazine that made its way into the cabinet a long time ago. But still, finding the magazine and returning it back gave me some other purpose today other than serving all the women of the household and celebrating May''s birthday.


    Unfortunately, that task started out much harder than I expected to be after finding May and Mira sitting in one of those laid-back pool deck chairs, towels on their heads and holding magazines with stacks of magazines next to them.


    "How do we look?" May asked, holding up a magazine and posing.


    "Like rich, white women from some old sit-com."


    "Well then," May said. "Go serve me some tea with one and a quarter sugar and a dash of cream. Hurry up."


    "I''m not your servant," I said.


    "Well, you said that I was a rich white lady..." May said. "So, yeah, you are my servant. And it''s my birthday, so I can do whatever I want, so get me some tea and deal with it."


    "Where''d you get all the magazines from?"


    "Everywhere," Mira said. "It was May''s idea, just to give it a more professional feel rather than some DIY project."


    "Well," I said during my first attempt to get the magazines back. "It looks a bit tacky, I''d say. Do rich people that can afford a couple thousand-dollar spas really read gossip magazines."


    "Duh," May said. "How else do you think they keep up with all the celebrity gossip?"


    She flipped a page. "Like this stuff about Brad and Angelina, whoever these two nobodies are."


    "How do you not know about Brad and Angelina?" Mom asked. "Everyone knows."


    "Well they''re probably old and dying," May said. "And they''re probably, you know, kicking the bucket at the moment, so who cares?"


    "Well, you shouldn''t be turning your brain to mush reading all this garbage," I said, trying for a Dad approach to making them hand back the magazines.


    But that failed spectacularly. "I have a right to turn my brain into garbage, and it''s not like I''ve got a ton of use for it since, you know, school has ended forever."


    "Not forever," Mom said. "Just temporarily."


    Even though May didn''t say anything, I could literally hear her saying "Totally" in her mind, and I was about to go for my third attempt when May interrupted me, "Aren''t you supposed to be finding the eucalyptus lotion?"


    "Yeah," I said and decided to bide my time to get my magazine back since if I acted too weirdly or too defensively, they''d know that something was up. So I went into the bathroom and picked out a eucalyptus lotion for May and a couple of other creams, just in case Mom and Mira wanted them and went back to work.


    At noon, we actually had lunch for the first time in forever ever since we''ve cut it out and replaced it with brunch and din-unch or linner (or whatever a dinner-lunch hybrid is called). It was just a simple chicken, beans, and rice mixture, but like all non-soup food right now, it tasted like heaven. Well, maybe not heaven since I''m sure that that would taste more death-like, but like something really good.


    Unfortunately, the afternoon was when I was sent to work to paint Mom, Mira, May, and even Grandma''s fingernails since I''m the only artistic person in the family sadly. After a long period of deliberations, Mom and Grandma both went with clear polish since it wasn''t too flashy while May went with white colored ones. For the first time, it was Mira that was waffling over which polish to choose.


    "Well, just test all the colors out on this magazine," May said as she happened to pull out the only magazine that I cared about and flipped to the only pages that I cared about. "Let''s paint over this hottie."


    "Just get a bit of tissue paper, and I can test it on it," I said, trying to turn May the other direction. "The colors might not show up on the magazine well because of all the colors."


    "First of all, I''d like to save all my bathroom paper and not waste it," she said. "And second of all, if you haven''t realized it, nail polish is not clear, so who cares what is underneath it."


    "I care," I nearly said before realizing how misinterpreted that could be, so instead, I said, "Well, we might burn these magazines in the future, so it''s probably not a good idea to spread toxic nail polish over them."


    "Why are you being so weird about this?" May said.


    "Just choose a color," I said to Mira, probably too aggressively because she gave me that look like I''m involving her in an argument that she has no part of.


    "Blue," she said. "The bright one, not the dark ones."


    "Great," I said before getting to work. It was only after a couple of seconds that I noticed May, approaching with a sharpie in her hand, probably getting ready to draw devil''s horns and a giant stache on that guy''s face just because she can.


    "What are you doing?" I asked, even though I already knew.


    "I''m bored," she said. "And it''d be absolutely hilarious to draw all over his face."


    "Just stop touching it," I said, snatching the magazine from her hands.


    "What is up with you?" she said. "Since when did you care about a dumb magazine."


    "Just do something else and stop touching and drawing on them," I said. "Read a book or something."


    "Whatever," May said and crossed her legs. She tried reaching for her phone, but it wasn''t there and hasn''t been there for months. Still, old habits tend to die hard, and eventually, she got up with a huff and left.


    "You know, it''s just a magazine," Mira said.


    "Just don''t touch it," I said because there was no other way to say that it wasn''t just a magazine. I don''t even know why I''m so attached to it because it scares me, sometimes, the way that I feel, the kinda attraction that feels new and familiar. Maybe I''m keeping it around me to remind myself, so that I don''t forget or let my doubts take over me. Whatever the reason, I don''t think I''ll ever figure out the right way to say it. They''ll probably think I''m weird for pining over some paper guy that I''ll never meet. Yeah, it''s definitely too weird.

 Chapter 21, Part 6

    After I painted her nails, Mom and Grandma came in and began fanning the air with old cardboard sheets. We even opened the windows, for a brief few minutes before Mom closed them and mopped the inside frame of the window coated with the thinnest layer of tiny ash particles.


    And then came dinner.


    The scented lotions and aromatic candles, burning to the very bottom of the wax, mixed surprisingly nicely with the food bubbling in the pot next to the fireplace. Even though it was her birthday, we still couldn''t avoid eating a bit of soup, though today, Mom and Grandma used up two cans of our nearly gone chicken to create a thick broth. We even chopped up a stalk of green onion that we are growing in the greenbox to add a bit of freshness to the noodles.


    Dinner was really nice for everyone except for Dad, since being a vegetarian, he got left with a can of half-warm, limp zucchini and carrot with some noodles, which probably tastes as bad as it sounds. But, you know what, a solid six out of seven people were enjoying dinner, and that''s all that matters.


    After we had finished drinking all of our soup, Mom brought out the centerpiece, a loaf of brownie, only a couple of inches high and maybe half a foot long, but the chocolatey smell wafted through the air and even though we''ve eaten more today than we have in the past few days, everyone''s mouths were wafting. Mom let it sit somewhat close to the fireplace, so that the chocolate chips would melt and ooze out with every bite.


    "How¡ª" May said, uncharacteristically stuttering. "Where''d you get the brownie mix from? I thought we ran out."


    "We had a little bit left," Mom said. "And your father and I decided to stash it away for a special day, like today."


    "Well, Mom. Do you also have the keys to a Ferrari stashed away?"


    "Very funny," Mom said and grabbed the slightly smoky but warm brownie cake with gloves. May tried to grab a chunk of the cake, but Mom blocked her and picked up a candle, lighting it and placing it on top of the cupcake.


    "Can we hurry up and get to the cake eating part?" May asked.


    "Not before we sing."


    "I don''t need a song."


    "Well, I need one," Dad said and started clapping his hands in a rhythm. "One. Two. Three."


    And then our terrible, off-pitch singing began. One miracle about Mom and Dad is that they haven''t figured out how to sing with their own beat, their hand clapping completely asynchronous to their singing. And then, after we finished "Happy Birthday," Mom decided to do a rendition in Chinese to bring Grandma and Grandpa in, with Dad filming and mumbling along while I struggled to remember exactly how to sing it.


    "It''s time to make a wish," Mom said.


    I could almost hear the sounds of "Ferrari" being chanted in May''s mind as she blew on the long candle on the cake. It was a weak blow and the candle flickered back to life.


    "It seems like the man in the sky doesn''t want you to get a Ferrari," I said.


    "I wasn''t wishing for one anyways," she said, but you could see everyone thinking, "Totally."


    This second try, she managed to do it, and Mom removed the candle before cutting a small slice of brownie and serving it to May. "So what was your sweet fifteen wish?"


    "It''s sweet sixteen," May said. "Only Spanish people do sweet fifteens."


    "I know," Mom said. "I just thought it''d be a good idea to celebrate it a bit early."


    "You think I''m going to be dead before sixteen," May said. "And that this birthday is like one of those cancer charity things for kids that are about to die."


    "That''s not what I mean¡ª"


    "Then we''ve always got next year," May said. "So let''s just keep today what it is supposed to be. A boring, nothing special fifteenth birthday. It''s not my sweet sixteen. It''s just fifteen, so don''t call it that."


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    "Okay," Mom said, though she was a bit confused and flustered. I was kinda confused too because sixteen didn''t seem very exciting. I mean mine was just like any other birthday, just renting a cheap movie to watch, eating some pizza and cake, before working on homework since that''s what I get for being born in January in the school year.


    But I kinda get May too. I know she''s trying to change for the apocalypse, raiding homes and basically stealing from people that aren''t there, and maybe she''s changing a little too fast, but I wonder if that''s all just an act. Well, maybe not an act, but just a way of dealing with the change around her by changing faster, and that trivial stuff, like sweet sixteens or fancy cars, is her hanging onto normalcy that''s still here around us.


    We didn''t talk much beyond some very light conversation, as we nibbled our brownies, savoring the last bit of chocolate that we may ever eat, unless Mom has some more stashed away. The sun was setting, and we all knew it was time for Mira to leave, but as soon as she got up, she stopped and looked at her hands.


    "I just realized," Mira said, looking down at her nails. "The others, they might know or find out that¡ª"


    "I''ll go get the nail polish remover," I said and disappeared into the bathroom to grab a lavender bottle that smelled faintly like artificial fragrance along with some tissue paper. Swishing the polish remover on the tissue, I walked into the bedroom, where Mira sat, staring at her hands.


    "Do you think May''s right?" she asked. "Not about the sweet fifteen or sixteen thing, but about people."


    "I mean, I don''t know," I said as I handed her the soaked tissue paper as she scrubbed the polish from her fingers.


    "When we argued about it last time, I thought she was wrong about this, about me," Mira said. "But I''m starting to think she''s right. I''m becoming more like Mom and Dad, more scared about people and about interaction and community. She was right that I was reaching for my gun that other day when we saw that lady. I didn''t even think about it, and just made a judgement call based on nothing."


    "I mean, people are changing, you know."


    "Yeah," Mira said. "But I want to be less scared about people. How else are we going to go back to normal if we''re all pointing guns at each other?"


    "You think things are going back to before?"


    "Not before, but something like before," she said. "Just a normal future where we fight about stupid things like movie nights or magazines."


    My heart leapt because I knew what she was trying to do and trying to shift the conversation to the magazine, which is exactly what happened.


    "I know that the magazine was more than just nothing," Mira said. "Sometimes, you''re bad at lying."


    I didn''t know what she was saying or what she was insinuating. It''s situations like this that I wish I could just disappear off the face of the world, drifting under the waves for a couple of hours or days until the whole situation is over, so that I can pop back into existence when everything is better. I knew that I couldn''t lie my way around the truth because Mira knows that something is off, and she''ll know that I''m lying, so I went with the half-truth.


    "I just have a hard time with letting go of old things," I said. "I''m, like, a compulsive hoarder."


    Sometimes, that does feel like the full truth, with the magazine and the guys and all the kissing in make-believe meadows in my mind. There are moments where I wish that I could just let go of this feeling, and there are moments where I believe, sometimes for just a flicker of a moment and other times for a couple of hours, that what I''m feeling is something else, like hoarding. Maybe I can box it away, like old mason jars and dust-stained toys, until I find the courage to throw it away.


    But other times, this feeling flips, where I wish that I had the courage to speak up and the courage to say that what I''m feeling is right and real and it''s not just a figment of my imagination gone wild because of my need to feel different. Some moments, I can even imagine being in a relationship. Well, not really a relationship, but more like an idea of a relationship, like the idea of having someone that you can actually confess to beyond just scribbling words to myself.


    I''ll actually take the half-truth back. This is actually a full truth, just in two different ways that feel like half-truths when combined together.


    Mira stood up and was just about to leave the room when she said, "I''ve got to go now, but you know, there''s a whole world of non-magazine people out there."


    I almost scoffed and gave a May-like response, "What world?" But instead, I just nodded, and Mira said goodbye and left.


    I guess the reason that I said that was partially because the world around us is crumbling away, one ash storm at a time until we''re all buried under a thick layer of volcanic dust, like the people that were trapped in Pompeii. With Mom and Dad''s paranoid and everyone killing each other for just little cans of food, beyond my mandated trips to the rivers and the glances of the streets and outside when Charles visits, it''s like my world has shrunken more from before. And once winter comes with snow and bitter cold, these four walls around me will be my whole universe. Like all of my hopes and dreams will live and die between brown-painted walls and ash-stained windows.


    But I think another reason is that I don''t feel like there''s a world for me out there, even if everything returns back to normal. Charles had got me thinking about what my ideal partner would be like, but that mostly has me thinking about what that guy''s ideal partner would be like, if he was even interested in guys. He''d probably choose someone just as attractive as he is, someone cool, confident, funny, charming, and just perfect. I know I shouldn''t be thinking so hard because this is all just a fantasy, and that no self-respecting twenty-some year old would ever get into a relationship with someone whose 17th birthday is a solid 4 months away since that''d violate a ton of laws. But still, even when I''m a twenty-something year old, I just can''t see myself with anyone like him.


    That''s probably the one thing that I''m sure of.

 Chapter 22, Part 1

    September 16


    Thank goodness Mom and Dad are alright. I thought they had died or gotten hurt out there because it had taken them forever to get back. This is why not having phones and the internet is a nightmare.


    Mom and Dad left together in the morning, bundled up in sweaters and old ski jackets, because today was colder than the rest of the days, probably since the fall equinox is coming up this Thursday as the days get shorter and shorter. The sky was still bright and clear, but in the past few days, the winds have slowed, and I''m wondering if it''s the end of this respite from the ash storms. Things have been too good with the weather, and there''s no chance that the universe will let this break continue forever. There are probably some places on the West Coast that are frozen and snowed in right now, and it''s only a matter of time.


    Mom and Mira renegotiated the terms of gun use. Thank goodness Mom isn''t at the point where she''s allowing everyone to carry guns all around the house, but she''s allowed Mira to have the safe with the gun unlocked and opened to have easy access in case that we needed to defend ourselves from any looters. I know that it makes Mira happy that she can help people, but I wish she could do it some other way that doesn''t involve guns or just the potential to hurt someone, like working at a soup station or a city council volunteer.


    May wanted to sleep in today, so while she snored in the living room, Mira and I played cards in our old room. It was pretty awkward and silent, especially after everything yesterday.


    "I feel like you''re avoiding talking to me," Mira said, finally breaking the silence.


    I nodded awkwardly because there was no good way to respond to that. And it was true, I guess I was avoiding talking with her a bit, mostly because I didn''t understand what she meant by "non-magazine" people, as if she knew that I was thinking about the guy in the magazine. Or maybe she was just talking about life in general and telling me how I should stop burying my face in books and start exploring real life around me. But either way, I was too scared to ask for clarification because I didn''t want her to push the question.


    "Do you know where Dad put his poker set?" Mira asked. "It might be fun to learn, and maybe May will join us to play."


    "Poker? Isn''t that super illegal to play?"


    "Only if you use real money," Mira replied with a devilish grin. "Which we are totally not going to do."


    "So much for making sure people don''t break the law," I said. "Anyways, I think that it''s in Dad''s bedroom, maybe under the bed."


    "How about you go and find the poker set from Mom and Dad''s room while I go and wake May up since it''s pretty late now?"


    "I can go wake May up," I said and stood up a bit too quickly.


    I know it''s a bit irrational, but I don''t want to go anywhere near the safe, especially since it''s open, just in case the gun spontaneously combusts and just shoots a bullet out of nowhere. But I guess also that I don''t really want to get used to the idea of just having guns being casually carried around at home because it''ll be like the situation with the raiders in the ash storm. One slip of the finger, one moment of forgetfulness with the safety, one slip-up, and then, that''s it, especially with the state of disrepair with the hospitals.


    "Is this about the gun?" Mira asked. "You know the safety is on, right? Nothing bad is going to happen."


    I shrugged, though if I was being truthful, I should''ve nodded. "I''ll go get May. She''ll probably be less mad if I wake her up from her beauty sleep since she might still be mad."


    And before Mira could reply, I left. I could''ve been honest with her, and I guess it''s something important, so I probably should''ve been honest. It''s just that I don''t want her to feel guilty about what she''s doing because it''s something that makes her happy, and it''s her way of coping with the death of the couple. Maybe it''s time for me to just get over my fear, so that everyone else can be happy about it.


    After a couple of minutes, Mira lugged the giant poker set with all the chips in it. We didn''t really know how to play, but we tried our best to keep ourselves distracted. We even upgraded the stakes of the game when May decided to empty out a piggy bank, and all of our chips were backed by monetary value. But as time ticked on, we all got nervous, Mira looking out of the window constantly and May losing her gleeful laugh even as she kept winning. By one, Mira was fed up.


    "I''m going to check on Mom and Dad," Mira said suddenly, grabbing and holstering the gun, before putting on a mask and leaving the house, leaving me and May behind at home along with Grandma and Grandpa.


    Stolen story; please report.


    "What''s happening?" May asked, looking out of the window, as if she could see the city council building.


    "I don''t know," I said.


    "Mom and Dad should be okay, right?" May said, reaching for her pocket, even though her phone wasn''t there, before huffing. "I wish the Moon could just disappear and leave my life alone."


    She turned towards me, and her voice cracked a bit. "Do you think I''m going to make it to sixteen?"


    "Of course," I said. "So that you can drive Mom and Dad everywhere instead of me because there''s no way that the universe will be cruel enough to subject me to that fate."


    "I''m being serious here," she said. "What do you think? And I don''t want all of that ''everything''s going to be fine and great'' BS."


    "I feel like you want me to say no," I said.


    "Is that what you think?"


    There was a long moment of silence because I didn''t really know how to respond. I could''ve said that we were going to be alright, and May would probably scoff and call me a liar, or I could''ve said that we were all going to die, and then May would do something risky, like go house looting. So I stuck with my default answer or really our default answer.


    "I don''t know," I said.


    "I should''ve let Mom celebrate my sweet sixteen early," May said. "We''re actually doomed."


    "Don''t say that," I replied, but by the time that I finished talking, she had gone back to pacing around the living room and staring at her nails, now slightly chipped.


    By the time we hit five, all of us were basically in full blown panic, and May wanted to go out to see if Mom and Dad were alright, but I told her not to because she could get lost or worse. Even Grandma and Grandpa started pestering us with questions about where Mom and Dad were, and all I could say is that I didn''t know, which (unsurprisingly) is one of the few phrases I actually remember how to say in Chinese.


    I guess at that moment, I sort of started planning how we were going to live without Mom and Dad and Mira. I know it''s morbid, but I thought that without Mom or Dad or Mira, the rest of us would probably have enough food to make it to May''s sixteenth birthday. Of course we''d probably freeze to death first since May and I would probably be the world''s worst wood gatherers, and there''s the whole water situation too. But still, I couldn''t help thinking about it like that. Maybe that''s another way that the Moon has changed all of us.


    By the time it was nine, the sky was pitch black, and we had both stopped our uncontrolled pacing around and were just sitting on the couch, staring at the flickering fire.


    "Stop biting your nails," I said to May.


    She grumbled and looked at the fire. "Why is everyone disappearing? First, it''s all of my friends and now Mom and Dad are gone too. It''s like I''m going to mysteriously vanish soon too."


    "Mom and Dad should be fine," I said.


    "Can you cover for me tomorrow?" she asked. "If Mom and Dad don''t make it back, we''re going to need more supplies."


    She then paused before adding, "Actually, never mind that first part. If Mom and Dad don''t make it back, you won''t need to cover for me, freedom and independence and everything."


    "Stop thinking about this."


    "Well I can''t, and you can''t stop me," she replied. "We need to prepare, just in case Mom or Dad gets hurt, and we can''t avoid that because it just will happen."


    "What we really need to prepare is a good way of dealing with the axe situation because¡ª" I said before being cut off by a loud knocking on the door.


    We both looked at the door, and a whole flurry of thoughts ran through my mind. It ranged from the most reasonable (Mom, Dad, and Mira being all alive and well) to hopefully less reasonable (A random person informing us about what happened to the three of them) to hoping that it''ll never come true (A looter holding them hostage or just a polite looter). Then, I hear Dad shout, "It''s us."


    So we both rushed to the door, and Mom, Dad, and Mira hustled in, all of them sweaty and tired. "What took you guys so long?" May asked.


    "We are never going back to the plaza again," Mom said. "Never."


    "What happened?" I asked.


    "We got trapped in the square," Dad said. "There was a large crowd of people, all very angry, especially all the homeless people from the earthquakes, protesting in front of the city hall. I think the mayor already left because he didn''t show."


    "You guys should''ve just left," May said.


    "Too angry. They were already looking at the people standing around the edges of the plaza and some of them were being followed as they left because if those people weren''t angry enough to protest, they definitely have food," Mom said. "And I wasn''t going to lead them to us. It was risky staying back in the plaza, but far more dangerous if they managed to follow us back."


    "We had to protest along with them," Mira said. "When I came, Mom and Dad had joined the crowd and I joined them."


    "We stayed until it was dark," Mom said. "Because that''s when they started lighting the fires¡ª"


    "They burned down city hall?" I asked.


    "No," Dad said. "I don''t know. We left when they started lighting them since there was chaos and it was too dark to see anything. Right now, it''s too dark to tell what happened. We''ll be able to see in the morning from the smoke if they burned it down."


    "The sun set at literally seven, and it''s nine right now," May said. "What took so long?"


    "Scenic route," Mira said. "Just to be extra careful."


    "So, you guys are fine?"


    "We''re going to have to make some new rules in the next few days, but we are alright," Mom replied.


    "Good," May said with a small sigh, which seriously understated how much panic she was in a couple minutes ago.


    Then, all of us sat down to have dinner like nothing was wrong. It''s scary how we just moved on from this, like nearly dying was just an everyday occasion. At the same time, maybe it''s best that we didn''t talk about what happened today and just pretended everything is all fine. If we just keep living this lie, everything, at least, might feel more alright.


    I just hope that everything will be alright.

 Chapter 22, Part 2

    September 17


    "We''re going to use markers," May said.


    "Markers?" I said. "That''s the best idea that you came up with?"


    "Well, in a perfect world, we''d just chop off the bottom of the axe handle," she said. "Or better, we''d just poof the name out of existence. But reality sucks, and using a sharpie to cover it up is our best option."


    "But isn''t it an engraved name, so wouldn''t he still be able to see the outline? And either way, you''d still feel it."


    "Well it''s better than what''s under there right now," May said and pointed to the axe lying close to the fireplace this morning since Dad had to chop some of the larger logs so that they''d work better.


    The tape was already one loop unraveled and a strip of pink tape was just flapping around freely. Tape unraveling is like a snowball on a hill (or, if I want to quote biology class, like hemoglobin with oxygen), where one it starts rolling, it''ll continue to get larger and larger, or in the case of tape, more and more unraveled. We have maybe one week, at most, before Dad ripped it fully off.


    "Well I''m going to cut the tape right now," May said. "Maybe that''ll buy us more time and stop it from bugging Dad so much."


    "Are you guys doing an art project?" Mira asked, arriving at the most inopportune time. "I heard that you were cutting something. What are you making?"


    I think Mira was trying to be nice to May because while they had made up some ground on the spa day, they''ve still not gotten to the status quo of before, much less to how close they were on the market day. I guess it''s nice that she was doing this, but did she seriously have to pick that exact moment and not some other moment two minutes in the future.


    "We''re cutting off the dangling tape thing on the axe," May said.


    "We should just rip it off," Mira said. "It gets the whole job done, and plus, cutting the tape only delays the inevitable."


    May and I both looked at each other before I blurted out, "Anyways, I was telling May that we shouldn''t cut it or mess with the axes because we''re borrowing them from the community garden and we don''t want to mess anything up, you know."


    Mira gave us a weird glance before going to water the plants in the greenbox. The mustard plants have grown quickly and are about three or so inches tall while the pea plants just sprouted their first leaves a couple of days back. The onion plants have stopped their wilting, and the stalks are standing tall and straight, but the potatoes were still potato-like, though they looked a bit green.


    As soon as she was out of earshot, May whispered, maybe a little too loudly, to me. "Why''d you say that?"


    "What do you mean?" I said. "I literally saved us."


    "Not only did you stop me from being able to stop Dad from ripping the tape off, but you also made sure that we won''t be able to rip the tape off to mark out the name."


    "Well, what would you have done?"


    "I don''t know," she replied sarcastically. "Maybe say some of the fancy science-y things about how cutting the dead piece of tape helps it last longer."


    "Easy for you to say," I mumbled. "Anyways, the markers wouldn''t have worked since they wash off, and Dad will get really mad if his hands are stained black every single time that he touches the axe grip. And plus, if he actually looks at the axe handle, he''ll see the engraving, so yeah, markers aren''t working."


    "Then, what do you think we should do?"


    "I don''t know. You''re the plan person," I said with a shrug.


    "Fine," she said and stood up before huffing and walking away, kicking the axe by the fireplace, as the steel grinded against the stone by the fireplace and catching everyone''s attention. But no one bothered to say anything, and we continued existing.


    There is an easy solution to our axe problem: telling Mom and Dad the truth. We took the axe and the solar panel from the Hunters because it was necessary for survival. Without it, we''d probably have a quarter of the wood that we have right now, and that we''d have to go wood gathering every single day to survive the winter storms up ahead. The greenbox wouldn''t exist, and we''d be forced into more and more dangerous activities to get enough food. We need the axe and the solar panel, and they''d understand what we did because without them, we wouldn''t be able to survive.


    But I just can''t. It''s just too risky because Dad can be too prideful for his own good, though maybe he''d be this one exception. But either way, both of them will be mad, and I can''t risk getting grounded because Charles and his family are dependent on me for food. If I get cut off, that''s it for them, especially how I stupidly missed last week''s food delivery because I was just too distracted by everything around me. Everything has to remain the same¡ª or at least as similar as it can be with everything going on.


    It''s too bad that everything''s changing with Mom and Dad''s new rules.


    Mira had to leave early because she missed her shift yesterday and needed to inform them of the reason why. But instead of heading out the front door, Mom and Dad took out two chairs, putting one on our side of the fence, and then, after Mira hopped to the other side of the fence into our (now non-existent) neighbor''s backyard and placed a chair on that side. Every time that we had to go out, we had to use that, just in case that someone was watching on the street, so that they''d head towards the wrong house.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Can''t they just see our smoke from the fireplace?" I asked Mom and Dad. "So this is a bit pointless."


    "Oh, yeah," Dad said, his words trailing off awkwardly. They took down this setup half an hour later and probably sent it back to the drawing board before going back and putting it back up.


    "Why are you keeping it up?" I asked.


    "Skies won''t be clear forever," Dad said. "Someday the winds will fade, and the ash storms are going to return again, and the smoke will just disappear into the clouds."


    I would''ve asked him about the light from our house or the fact that diverting people to the house right next to ours doesn''t stop them from heading to our house right after they see our flickering shadows behind curtains or the orange glow of the fire. But I didn''t say much because I didn''t need Dad getting annoyed. It''s kinda funny how I''m lying, so that he wouldn''t get as mad when my other lie gets exposed. It''s like that expression: "Fighting fire with fire."


    I just realized that I haven''t read my book in a while, but I guess I''ve been feeling down about this. It''s like the book is supposed to be authentic and realistic, but every time that I think about it, it feels like a fantasy because I guess I''m just having a hard time relating with them since every other page talked about how attractive or stylish they are, and I''m just not. Maybe I''m being cynical and probably too self-pitying, but how else am I supposed to feel?


    I think I''ve got to stop thinking about this and focus on the bigger problem ahead: the axe. There''s just no room for love or lust or whatever in this new future.


    September 18


    It''s suffocating living at home with everyone. I can''t believe I''m saying this because before, I''d never say this, but I just need to get out and breathe a little. Thank goodness, tomorrow is Tuesday.


    Just before Mira, May, and I were going to do our weekly water gathering (which did not involve the usage of Mom and Dad''s crude chair-backyard scheme since it was just too inconvenient), Dad pulled me to the side, "Son, I need to talk with you."


    Those seven words are the worst words in the world. I had no idea what he was confronting me about, and the first thought was that he had found about the axe. But then I saw it in his hand, pink tape attached and waving in the air, and I was even more petrified because I had no clue about what I was being confronted about.


    "I saw the books in your bedroom," Dad said, and before I could call him out for snooping, he added, "I was curious about what you were reading."


    "Okay," I said because I knew that he had found my collection of books, but I didn''t want to say anything.


    "I know that you said that you were reading romance. But I didn''t know that you were interested in reading this type of romance..."


    I shrugged, trying to be calm and nonchalant, like usual. "I like getting a different perspective on things. That''s it."


    That wasn''t exactly the truth because while it''s technically true, like I did borrow those books to figure out myself and get an outside perspective beyond my thoughts and assumptions, the way that I said it makes it feel like a lie. And Dad definitely latched onto my lie because he then said, "Okay, good. I''m very supportive of gays and lesbians and everyone in their community, but I''m glad to know that, you know, aren''t one of them because it makes things too complicated."


    Then, I got a hearty slap on the back, and Dad walked away before turning back to face me. "Maybe you want to read something else that''s less, you know, about¡ª"


    "Grow up, Dad. It''s the 21st century."


    I should''ve also said, "Grow up, Neal. It''s the 21st century" and that there should be no shame about my attraction to guys. But I guess I don''t really need to say that because I don''t feel shame that much in that way. It''s more like I can''t talk about the idea of just having a romantic relationship with anyone really because I''m just irrationally embarrassed by anyone thinking I''m interested in someone. Everyone feels like they''re moving forwards, from Charles talking about his imaginary girlfriend to the guys in the book being so open with their desires, and it''s like I''m just stuck in a past way of thinking.


    I know it''s time for me to move forward too, with my views on guns and with how I feel when I look at the guy in the magazine, and that I shouldn''t be scared. But I can''t because it feels exactly like the college and jobs and internships of the world before. The moon was supposed to fix everything, but it''s like everything just remained the same but worse.


    Water gathering was painful, like usual, and by the third round, we all felt like we were dying. It''s so annoying that our muscle strength is the only thing not changing in this world.


    "Have you come up with a plan?" I asked May.


    "No," she said as she lugged our fourth bucket of water. "You know these things take time to make?"


    "Should we just tell the truth?" I asked.


    "Then you go tell them."


    "I''m not doing that," I said. "You''re closer to Mom and Dad, so you can tell them."


    "Mom and Dad like you better," she said.


    "Well, I''m not doing that."


    "Then we stick with my plan, whenever I figure it out."


    "Figure it out soon," I said, and we stopped talking about this because we saw Mira slowing down in front of us before coming to a pause.


    I don''t even know why I''m so scared of telling Mom and Dad the truth to be honest. Well, I kinda do. I''ve lied to tell before about tons of smaller things, like how I''m feeling and other emotional stuff, but I guess I''ve never really admitted to them that I''ve lied to them. Maybe they''ll be understanding. I mean they should be, but I just can''t afford this.


    On our last round, Mira walked with me. "You seem stressed. What''s up?"


    "Just the usual end of the world stuff," I lied. "Starvation, dehydration, hypothermia, all kinds of nasty water-borne diseases."


    "You sure it''s not about this?" she asked and pointed to her hip, with the pistol in her holster. Mom had allowed her to carry the gun around when we were doing the water pickup because of all the armed people roaming around. I guess I should''ve felt better since it''s an upgrade (in terms of killing power) from the electric lighter.


    I shrugged my shoulders. "I don''t know."


    "How do you not know what''s bothering you?"


    I shrugged my shoulders and walked more ahead. I guess I was being too cold to Mira, and I probably shouldn''t have, but I wasn''t in the mood to talk and certainly not about something stressful and emotional. I''ve already got too many things on my plate to deal without having to deal with this.


    I only paused when we walked into a different neighborhood (since we were trying to vary our walking paths to make sure that no one followed us) somewhat close to city hall and looked at the sky. There was this inky smoke that seemed to smear the sky, blotting out the blue and taking me back to the storm times, where the skies were clouded with an ominous dark gray.


    "This fire is from the campfires the homeless people are making by city hall, right?" I asked Mira, even when I knew it wasn''t true.


    "I guess they must''ve burned city hall," she replied.


    "RIP our government," May said.


    "The food deal with Sacramento isn''t going to pan out, isn''t it?" I said, kicking at the hardening ash on the sidewalk because there weren''t any stones.


    "I don''t think it ever was."


    "It looks like we''re on our own," Mira said. "We should probably walk closer to each other. It''s safer. And better for family-bonding too."


    "You can just say that it''s safer," May muttered. "No need to add the family bonding part."


    "Well it''s safe and we can bond," Mira said, sounding just like Mom. "C''mon, let''s go. My arms are killing me."


    But we didn''t move for a while, just staring at the sky. At that moment, I realized that we were all alone, and the last vestiges of the government were floating in the sky, little flakes of ash settling on the ground. There''s no more dreams of food or Sacramento anymore. It''s a bit lonely that we''re all that remains here.

 Chapter 22, Part 3

    September 19


    Mom made us do the dishes in the morning, but it felt different.


    Before, drying dishes felt like a taste of normality, as if the ash storms and starving mobs were just a nightmare to be forgotten. But now, manually washing dishes just reminds me of how the dishwasher will never work again, and I don''t think I''ll ever be able to divorce washing dishes by hand ever again from the end of the world.


    Charles came early today, and as soon as I heard his knock, I put on a mask and used Mom and Dad''s awkward chair system to hop into our neighbor''s backyard to let him in. In the early morning, under the guise of watching the sunrise, just in case anyone asked what I was doing outside, I hid the backpack in the prickly bushes. It wasn''t a particularly strong hiding location, considering that all of the leaves had fallen off, but as long as no one looked, it was fine.


    "What is all of this for?" he asked as he walked through the gate, probably referring to our whole weird get-up.


    "My parents are weird," I replied and pointed around at the chair. "This just makes them feel a bit better."


    Charles walked around and sat on a bench in their backyard. "Even though I do not support this at all, have you started writing your story?"


    "I don''t know," I said. "I''m not really feeling it."


    "By the time you figure your story idea out, we''ll all probably be dead," he said and then quickly added. "In, like, a hundred years."


    "I just need the right inspiration, you know," I said. "That''s why we should move onto your last one, so that it might inspire mine."


    "Nope. We are doing yours and we will make progress today," he declared, as if he had any authority. "We are going to get your first word written before fall starts."


    "Tell me any ideas that you''re thinking about."


    I didn''t have any new ideas, but suddenly an idea popped into my brain: I should tell Charles about my axe situation with Mom and Dad, but in more abstract terms, to see what he''d do. In retrospect, that was probably not the best of ideas, but I guess it was about the most honest thing that I''ve done this week, and I think I know what I have to do now.


    "Well I''ve got something," I said. "It''s more like a conflict."


    "Continue," Charles said, either real enthused or faux enthused. I couldn''t really tell.


    "Let''s say that someone has¡ª"


    "Wait, who is this someone?" Charles (rudely) interrupted. "Like a male or female? Young or old? Are you talking about yourself in third person?"


    "Who cares? And, no, this story is not me talking about myself in third person," I replied, and he rolled his eyes. "So basically this someone has done something objectively good that has helped people, but it could be perceived as bad by other people¡ª"


    "I''m confused," he said, cutting me off again. "Like how can something be objectively good and be perceived as bad?"


    "So many things," I said. "Like people doing very suspicious things to get essentials. Or taxes. Choose your whatever analogy, but that''s not the point. The point is that they have hid this objectively good thing with a lie, but that lie is about to fall apart, so they have two options. One is that they go and tell the truth and hope that the other people change their minds. The other is that they embark on a risky plan to cover up the lie with another lie. So what would you do?"


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "I think the answer is obvious," Charles said. "Lie more."


    "Lie more?" I said. "I thought that you''d be the good guy and choose to tell the truth."


    "It feels like telling the truth will just hurt the people around you very pointlessly," Charles said.


    "That somebody is not me," I said.


    "Sure. Whatever you say," he replied sarcastically. "You''re doing a ''I''m asking for a friend'' right now, so you might as well just admit that it is you and get more specific, so I can actually deal with your problem."


    I ignored his request since the more that I denied it, the more convinced he was that it was me. "But isn''t honesty the best policy?"


    "Are you doing one of those things where you are playing devil''s advocate of your own position to have another person justify it?" Charles asked, and even though I was fairly annoyed, he wasn''t exactly wrong. "If so, then tell the truth."


    "I''m being serious."


    "Okay, fine," he said. "The reason that I think this mysterious somebody should just continue the lie is because being morally right isn''t an option anymore. It''s better that we survive with a guilty consciousness than die with a clean one. But I don''t know about your¡ª sorry, mysterious somebody that we shall call Mr. Anonymous¡ª family situation, so maybe Mr. Anonymous can afford to get hurt physically to be alright mentally."


    "So telling the truth is bad?"


    "With everything going on, lying is sometimes the only way to make it through."


    There was a moment of silence, and I looked down at his shoes, which were filled with more glass shards compared to before. I guess it was at that moment that I started piecing everything together since there was no way that all of the glass came from just the earthquakes.


    "God, we''re such nihilists. So much for our bright, optimistic future," I said.


    "So much for our future," he said. "Fixed that for you."


    "That''s depressing. Think more positively."


    "Can''t afford to," he said. "The sun is out, but it''s just an illusion that''s going to disappear someday."


    "That was very angsty," I said with a pause. "So are you sure that I have to lie?"


    "So it is you that you were talking about!"


    "You know that I meant somebody," I said. "You just keep saying ''you'', so I accidentally switched it."


    "Sure..."


    "You''re being more annoying than May right now."


    "That''s such an honor."


    "It''s not," I said with a pause before quickly changing the subject since he was getting on my case. "Summer''s almost over. Remember the time when we said we''d live this summer like we were little kids."


    "Those were the good old days," he said. "It''s sad that we''re reminiscing about a couple of months ago like it was decades ago."


    "Feels like a whole different world," I said. "I guess¡ª I don''t really know why we''re still doing the bucket list anymore, really since it feels like a relic from a long time ago."


    "I dunno. It feels like tradition," he said. "And we have something to work towards even if it''s just something as random as writing a book, which we still need to do by the way so you better start coming up with a good idea."


    And I guess it''s also truthful, now thinking about it, in the smallest ways. Just telling each other our silly dreams and wishes is about the most honest thing there is in this world around us, where lying is what we have to do to survive. This is about the only time when the truth feels oddly enjoyable and actually something I can believe in.


    Then, there was a beep from a watch that I hadn''t noticed on his wrist, and he looked down. I pointed at it. "Where''d you get that from?"


    "It was worthless to the people with supplies," he said. "I found it a couple days back in an old box in our attic, so I decided to keep it."


    But I knew that there was something wrong with what he was saying because watches have extremely valuable batteries. And being able to tell the time, especially when winter arrives, will be invaluable since it''ll be impossible to see the sun and approximate. There will only be light and dark and grays in between, and time will blend as hours bleed into each other.


    It''s at that moment when I connected the dots: the increasing glass shards embedded in his shoes, the cuts and nicks on his legs and arms, his new shoes and watch, the shattered windows of all the houses nearby his house, the lack of hunger for the past month or so. There was only one explanation: he and his family were one of the looters.


    "I''ve got to go," he said. "But we will get an idea next week, and we will start writing. Before I leave, just one question: why do you want to write a book, like actually?"


    "I just want something for us to be remembered by."


    He stood up and nodded. "I think I might have an idea, but I''ll tell you next week."


    "Be careful," I said, and he gave me a weird look.


    I was going to confront him about the looting, and I almost did, but I decided against it because I guess I was too scared of ruining things. I''m worried that he''d think I was judging him and that I''d lose him as a friend, and we''d resume our high school drifting apart. Maybe I''m catastrophizing like usual, but I think it''s better to keep this realization to myself. I guess there doesn''t seem to be any good that comes from telling the truth.