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—" 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—"

"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— 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—"

"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—"

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.