September 26

I was wrong.

If yesterday was the calm after the storm, then today was the storm suddenly manifesting and killing everyone when they thought it was safe.

Mom and Dad found the backpack filled with cans of food. I don't know how they did it since I buried it deep within the branches and ash piles of our neighbor's garden. It should've been hidden enough, and I doubt that anyone saw me since I did this early in the morning. Maybe Mom and Dad were spying on me or maybe they coincidentally found it, but either way, Charles was screwed.

"Is this our food?" Dad asked me while holding up the back.

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe it was our neighbor's secret stash."

"I don't recall seeing it a couple of days back," Dad said. "And this looks like your backpack."

"Well, I don't know," I said and walked away, my heart pounding loud because I knew that Dad was suspicious of me. But I needed to get Charles food, and I needed to do it quickly since he was arriving soon, so I asked the only other person that knew.

"Mira," I said to her. "I need your help."

"What for?" she asked.

"It's about Charles' food," I said. "Mom and Dad found the backpack with the cans in it, and I think they know it's me."

"That's not good," she said.

"Yeah. So I need you to go into the pantry and grab a couple of the cans and take the backpack outside before or when Charles comes," I replied. "It's really important so please be careful."

"Mom and Dad are guarding the pantry like hawks," Mira said. "It's going to be hard to get anything. Are you sure you don't want to tell them the truth?"

"Mom and Dad keep saying that we have to look out for ourselves only, so if they found out that I've been taking our food to feed Charles' family, I don't know what they'll do."

"This seems exactly like yesterday, with May and I. She didn't think that I'd approve of what she did when I was fine with it, so she didn't talk to me about it and never reached out for help," she replied. "Maybe Mom and Dad will be alright and understanding if you came clean to them."

I thought that she didn't understand my fears at the time, but thinking about it now, she did face something similar with Leon, where she lost someone. But at the same time, Leon left with plenty of food and fuel while, if Mom and Dad find out and cut me off from Charles, he'll starve, and I'll be alone. Maybe if I opened up to her, she could've tried harder at stopping this disaster.

"Just get the cans," I said. "And I'll keep watch."

We had to take a long time to find the right opportunity to get the cans. It wasn't like the early morning can preparations, where everyone sleeping meant that there was significantly less of a chance of being spotted. It's not even like May's axe plan, where there was a solid chance that everyone would be asleep. We were doing it in the middle of the day, sunlight streaming through our windows and everyone out and about.

Thinking about it now, I don't know why I didn't flake on this plan, like I did with May's infinitely safer one. I guess it's because I knew that, at least, what would come immediately after would not involve anyone dying. But with Charles and the food, if I didn't get the food in time to him, he and his family would starve or get hurt trying to get food from other people's homes. It's like the axe business was so trivial while the can situation is real.

Our opportunity finally came when everyone wasn't paying attention. Grandma and Grandpa were taking their afternoon nap, May was angst-ing out in her room because she wanted to annoy Mom and Dad by breaking one of their minor rules, Dad was in the bathroom, possibly showering. The only person that wasn't super far away was Mom since she was putting dishes away in the cupboards, but because she didn't have a clear vision of the pantry, everything was going to work out.

And in the beginning, everything went according to plan.

Mira and I managed to pick out eight or so cans for Charles. I told her to grab cans from the back of the pantry rather than the front because I had a sneaking suspicion that Dad patterned out the front so that he's notice any missing cans. No one popped out of nowhere and everyone else minded their business. I thought that the universe was finally atoning for what it did to me on Saturday.

But everything collapsed with a loud knock on the door.

Mira and I tried getting to the door before Mom, but she beat us to the chase and stood in front of the door. Mira had to head back, so that Mom didn't see the backpack with the cans in them, as I walked towards Mom.

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"It's Charles," I said. "Not some stranger."

"I know," she said. "But you won't be talking with him today. After what happened on Saturday, you need to reflect about what you've done, and this is the most appropriate punishment your father and I came up with."

"That's not fair," I said.

"Then maybe you should've thought before you disobeyed our rules and put yourself in danger."

I nearly scoffed. What danger? I feel like Mom's gotten so obsessed with security that she can't even find anything safe anymore. We weren't even breaking glass or taking things from occupied homes. All we were doing was just following what the Hunters told us, which was to take whatever we needed.

But instead, I nodded and looked back at Mira, who was standing super nervously, before looking at Mom. "Well, can I at least tell him that I won't be able to talk this week?"

"One minute," Mom said and opened the door.

"Hey there," Charles said and waved at Mom.

"Neal has something important to tell you," she replied.

"Really?" he asked. "You finally figured out your story idea?"

"You two are writing a story?" Mom asked, and I face-palmed.

"Mom, can you give us some privacy," I said and gestured towards the door.

"Just tell him what you need to say," Mom said and continued to stare us down. With Mom there, I couldn't get the message across for Charles to go into our neighbor's yard to pick up the food since that was our plan b.

I tried gesturing with my arm towards the neighboring house as I said, "I kinda messed up on something, so my parents are basically grounding me for a week."

"Wow," he said. "Goody-two shoes Neal getting into trouble?"

"Yep," I said, my cheeks probably flushed bright red with embarrassment, as I continued pointing sideways. "I'll see you soon?"

He looked down at my hand, and I think he got the message (not like it mattered anyways) before starting to wave. I thought I had avoided a disaster until I heard Dad shout, "What are you doing with the food?"

I turned back into the hallway with Mira looking at me apologetically. There Dad was, with the backpack of food dangling from his clenched palm, giving Mira and I the death stare. It turns out that because I was preoccupied with Charles, there was no one keeping watch with Mira, meaning that when Dad left the bathroom and wondered what was happening at the door, well, this happened.

"Are you giving the Shepards our food?!" Dad shouted. "We earned that food, and we are not giving it to strangers that approached us with guns that we've met once in our lives."

"It's not for the Shepards," Mira said.

"Then what are you doing with the food?" Dad asked more coldly.

I don't know what I would've done if I was in Mira's place. Taking the hit and blame probably would make the situation worse since it'd inflame old tensions. Telling a lie would probably be the best option, but I doubt that I could've been able to think of a lie that'd hold to any basic scrutiny. What she did was probably the best option, but I just can't help feeling like it made everything worse for me.

"It's for Charles and his family. Neal has been risking everything to make sure that they don't starve because some families were not as fortunate as ours," she said, and everyone looked at Charles before staring at me.

There was a long and very painful silence. I thought that Mom and Dad would be understanding. I thought that they were taking the time to think about their policy of helping only themselves. I thought that they were willing to change their views, so that Charles and his family wouldn't starve to death.

Everything that I thought shattered into a million pieces when Dad said to Charles, "Get out."

"What's wrong with you?" I shouted at Dad.

If I was thinking rationally, I should've just stayed silent. Escalating the fight was pointless since it would only make Dad dig into his position more, and an angry Dad doesn't get anyone anywhere. But I was angry at Dad, and maybe even angry at myself for not standing up for May against Dad, I couldn't stay on the sidelines, not when my only friend was at risk of being cut off from my life.

"We'll talk about this later," Dad replied (extremely) coldly and calmly before turning to Charles. "Leave now."

Charles seemed nervous, and he walked down the porch and turned back to give me a tepid wave. He then walked away, slipping away from me and into the light afternoon mist. Dad then turned to me. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since the beginning of August," I spat at him. "He was sick and starving, and I had to help—"

"Sick?" Dad said with a scoff, cutting me out. "He seemed perfectly fine, even when food deliveries had been cut off."

"That's because of what I'm doing for him," I said, even when I knew that there was more to this story than that.

"He's using you," Dad said. "I know it's hard to understand, but you're being used by him. People change during these times. They get crueler and more manipulative and more dishonest, and that's what happened to Charles."

"That's not true!" I said. "You're the one who has changed. You and Mom always talk about keeping everything normal, but you guys keep getting more cynical and more controlling. And the only thing that you guys haven't changed on, like actually taking people's help with the Hunters' axe, is the only important one."

"You aren't going to see Charles anymore," Dad said.

"No," Mom said, stepping in. "That's unreasonable. But no more giving food to Charles and his family. We have enough to worry with our family—"

"See, you guys keep talking about me, me, and me," I replied. "You guys can't muster enough empathy to actually care about the family of my only friend in the world."

And at that moment, I just left the conversation. Mom and Dad had nothing substantive to add, and I didn't need to listen to them spew their selfish, cynical apocalypse ideology. Life is more than just breathing and not starving.

Mom tried adding, "We do care. This isn't the best way to help." But I ignored her because if she actually cared about me, she'd look after Charles too, and that the only way to help is to prevent him and his family from dying of starvation.

I don't know if telling the truth and being honest upfront would've changed anything. Mom and Dad, despite deeply holding onto their opposition to borrowing tools from those who have left, have changed their values so much.

This is what happens when you're constantly worrying about what comes after instead of what actually remains here. You begin to think that everyone is going to turn against you, you begin retreating out of fear of how people may change instead of helping them towards a better path, and you begin prioritizing a future that won't exist if you can't preserve the people that are still here.

That's the true cost of the apocalypse.