November 2

I suppose that I got what I had asked for because today's one of those days where everything has realigned, though we all have no idea whether this change will finally lead to the creation of the dream community or the loss of everything we have.

It all began when we were walking down to the ocean in the afternoon since everyone was too tired to make it to the early morning low tide, and it was too dark and dangerous. There was this palpable energy while we, the Coopers and our family minus Dad and my grandparents, trekked towards the ocean. Eventually, after some time, the dark silhouette began peeking through the haze, and I could see everyone's eyes lighting up at how full the net seemed to look from the distance.

Mira began running to the net, and even though Mom yelled at her to slow down so that she couldn't slip on the slick pieces of algae coating the road, she also speed-walked to the net while the rest of us lagged behind a bit. When we got to the net, I finally saw what they were marveling at.

It turns out that letting the tides wash over the net was a brilliant idea because even though we had caught so much kelp, comprising the bulk of the material that the net had caught, there was just so much. There were spiky purple urchins and red and pink starfish, like the ones in the touching pools in aquariums, and just tons and tons of shells caught up. One additional benefit of the kelp was that it had trapped seawater, keeping the fish, whose tails were flailing against the coiling, olive vines of kelp, alive.

"C'mon," Mom said. "We've got to pack everything into buckets before things dry up and begin to rot."

We began dumping everything into the buckets, making sure to keep the kelp out, as Mira and the Coopers began checking the backyards of the nearby homes for pools or outside tubs to collect seawater to keep the fish and marine creatures alive. May and I were responsible for the molluscs, and as we were picking out barnacle-covered rocks and mussels and clam-looking shells, I could see May's hands darting around the fish.

"Eww, fish are so gross," May said, pointing at their flapping tails. "I almost feel bad for them."

"Same, I guess," I said. "We're going to have to eat them, you know?"

"I know," she replied sharply. "I mean I hate fish, but it's not like we have any other option. Also, how has your progress been with the whole submerged homes thing?"

"Can we just not do this now?"

"Fine," she replied. "But you are very rapidly approaching the one week mark, just saying."

"Whatever," I said with a shrug. "Let's just load these in."

It took us over an hour to get a bucket filled with molluscs, and we were only half-way through the net's contents, but at that time, all the buckets that we had brought were full, so we loaded it all in the wagon. Mom, Cora, and Caspian planned to stay behind to defend the net and continued to attempt to untangle it since it was a complete mess. The ocean didn't just only wash in kelp, but also brought in metal, glass shards, thin wooden shards, and just a bunch of miscellaneous items that had gotten and cut into the net. Even though the net was only half-empty, I could already see the damage done upon it.

However, just as we were about to leave the flooded with our first batch from the net, a wagon filled with fish, urchins, starfish, and a variety of mollusks that had been stripped from the floor, we were intercepted by none other than the Shepards and Dean, Mira's walking partner. Both were standing behind the tattered caution tape, guns hanging from a strap around their shoulder. We all froze, unsure whether we were going to be shot or whether they just wanted to have a friendly conversation. Either way, someone found out what we were doing, and it was nerve-wracking to even imagine what would happen next.

"Quite a bounty you've got there," Mr. Shepard said. "I presume you all are the authors of that net in the distance."

"We've been working on it for a while, John," Mira replied, looking at Mr. Shepard. "Just doing what we need to do to make it through."

"Of course," Mr. Shepard said before facing the Coopers. "Who are your new friends here? I don't believe we've met."

"I'm Tim," Caspian's dad said. "I know that I've met that fella there, but not you folk. I'd introduce you to my wife and my son, but they've stayed back."

"I'm sure we'll all be getting acquainted soon," Mr. Shepard said, and I wasn't sure if that was a threat or a friendly gesture. Normally, I'd assume the best, but when there are guns involved, who knows where people's loyalties lie?

"What brings you guys here?" Mira asked. "Was there a threat nearby?"

"Fortunately no," Mrs. Shepard replied. "Dean had noticed that you all had brought solar panels back two weeks ago, and we'd noticed that you've suggested a change in our normal patrol path, so we thought that with the influx of supplies, you wanted more protection, which is why you wanted the patrol path to be closer to your home, but didn't want to ask us directly."

"It's hard to talk about these topics," Mira said.

"I understand," she replied. "Communication can be difficult during these times, and it can be difficult to trust your friends with the breakdown of our society and values that hold us together."

There was definitely some bite under the response, a sort of backhanded concern, since there's almost a hundred percent chance that she was referring to the Coopers. I wonder if they'll hold this grudge against us because it's clear that there was at least some degree of hurt, and the only thing that we could offer was a polite smile from Mira.

"Yeah, totally," Mira responded before extending her hand at the wagon filled with seafood. "You want some fish? We've got a couple to spare for friends."

"Oh, thank you," Mrs. Shepard said, the hints of acid from her previous response fading. "You all are too kind."

We handed them a plastic bag, and they ended up plucking a couple of sea urchins from the water along with a generous handful of the miscellaneous molluscs. I could see that they were eyeing the fish, but unfortunately for them, live-ish fish do not fare well in fragile plastic bags. I mean, neither do sea urchins, so I don't know why they choose those. Perhaps because it seems hard to eat a starfish.

"Listen," Mrs. Shepard said to Mira. "What my husband and I are thinking is that the rest of the night watch, the four other families with us, ought to move in the homes around your house. I passed by it, and let me tell you, it'll be a major, major target for bandits since that greenhouse of yours is visible from the street."

"Communities either live together or families die alone," she continued. "If we're close by, we'll be able to do supply runs, organize safer foraging expeditions, and do a stronger job keeping our area secure. While what you all built is impressive, it's not going to be enough to keep your family alive over the winter because you all, and I mean no offense, do not have the hands to expand it. I know you're a big dreamer, Mira. You remind me of when I was younger, and I know that you've got bigger ambitions than what you all have right now, and we're willing to pour our energy and resources into helping grow the community."

"I'll have to talk to my family before deciding," she replied. "But why are you all asking right now?"

"It's better to secure our future now, rather than later," she replied. "The further we go into winter, the harder it'll be to trust each other. It's better that we start on a good foot when we're trying to deepen the partnership between our families."

"That sounds great," Mira said. "But we'll need to think about it more."

"Oh, of course," she replied. "You all seem very busy, and I don't want to be in your way. Why don't you take another day off from the night watch? It's clear that your family needs you more than us today."

Mira nodded with a bit of hesitation since they'd almost never allowed her an extra day off. But the Shepards seemed pleased, which is all that mattered, and I think we were about to depart in our own directions when May stepped forwards and asked, "What if our parents say no?"

"That'll be fine," Mrs. Shepard replied. "But I'm sure you all will make the right choice."

Mira and May and everyone kept a smile plastered to their face as we waved the Shepards off, even though our mouths were covered up by a mask, but as soon as they had disappeared into the distance, the smiles vanished, replaced with just an anxious lip-biting. It's clear that whatever that we had gotten into the Shepards was not a choice, especially given what they believe the "right" choice is and how powerful the night watch is, but who knows what a partnership would look like between our two communities? What if they find out that we have significant food storage or what if they decide that their family should own the greenhouse, and we lose our home and everything? I guess I've always wanted community, but I never really realized that the people with the bigger guns would probably decide everything.

We hustled back as fast as we could home, though it wasn't particularly fast since the wagon was extremely heavy and pulling it was tiring, even when we swapped shifts. My arms were burning by the end of my short three minute shift, and after repeating it a couple of times, I could barely feel my fingers. Walking down to the beach was a breeze, but the walk up was like hell, and when we reached home, I had no clue how I was going to muster the energy to help pull the wagon up another time, especially without the burst of adrenaline provided by the Shepards.

When we knocked on the door, Dad opened it and helped load the buckets into the kitchen, but I could tell that he knew something was wrong from how nervous we looked. That wasn't the joyful or celebratory look that he had expected after such a massive catch.

"Are you guys okay? Did something happen on the way?" Dad asked, looking at Mira and May, both of whom were the closest to him.

Mira and May both looked at each other before May spoke up. "Nothing happened. We're all so tired because there's still another batch that we need to get, and all of us literally just want to flop down into the bed and sleep."

"Well, I could come help," Dad replied.

"It's probably better to stay behind," Mira said. "We've got a ton of the mussels and clams to organize, and you should tell Grandma and Grandpa to start getting the fish prepped."

"Okay," Dad responded. "But you guys better stay safe, alright?"

"We will, Dad," May said. "Stop being so panicky."

I could see that he wasn't particularly concerned, but since we had wasted a bit over two hours, he let us rush back down to the flooded zone. Unlike our initial walk to the giant net, there was no lively, jubilant chatter, but instead, we walked solemnly and anxiously, none of us particularly talking much out of fear of attracting more attention and to conserve energy. When we approached the beach, I could tell that Mom noticed our worry.

"What's wrong? I noticed that it took much longer than I had expected for you guys to come back," she asked. "Did the food make it back home?"

"Yep," Mira replied. "Well, minus some of the molluscs and a couple of starfish. The Shepards found out. They were probably patrolling the area that I had requested them to loop around without telling me."

Mom swore under her breath while the Coopers looked a bit confused, probably because they didn't fully grasp the complicated relationship between our two groups. "Your dad was right. The net was too visible–"

"It's fine," Mira said. "We don't need to panic right now. Let's get everything taken down, and we'll figure things out later."

"Does he know?" Mom asked.

"We told him everything is perfectly fine," May replied. "Whatever. We can tell him that we saw them on this way back, so, like, it's no harm done anyways."

"Okay," Mom replied. "Let's get everything packed up quickly. The night's coming."

While Mom explained the situation with the Shepards to the puzzled Coopers, the rest of us tried grabbing and sorting everything out from the kelp, but as we removed more of the seaweed, it's obvious that the net had been destroyed by the tides. There were multiple massive gaps present in the nets, only plugged up by the tangle of kelp and seaweed, likely caused by the shards of metal and wood rushing in during the tidal surges. And once we pulled all the kelp out, we all gazed at the net, once perfect but now sliced into swiss cheese.

"Maybe we can repair it," Mom said.

"It's no use," Caspian's mom said. "It's destroyed, and we don't have the material to repair it. We should just leave it out here and check it every so often, try to get as much use as we can in its damaged state."

I could see that even though Cora meant well, or at least I thought so, I could see that Mom was a bit mad at her. I guess it's because she thinks that Caspian's mom wants to give up on the net because her husband is stuck on net-watching duty whenever the net is in serious use. But Mom held back her temper. "We're taking the net down. Even if the net is destroyed, we can still salvage the rope. Leaving it out is a waste, and I think we all know the importance of minimizing waste."

"Fine," Cora replied.

"Good."

Because we didn't bring a ladder, even though the knot did slip down a couple of feet, it was still a bit too high for Caspian to reach. Luckily, we had an extra bucket, and after standing on them, he ended up being tall enough to reach the top knot of the net. Taking down the net was a delicate business, especially with time ticking as the sky began darkening, the sun preparing to set, but Mom made sure that we folded the remains of the net as best as we could. She even volunteered to carry it, even though it was slimy from the semi-rotting kelp and stank of fish and sulfur.

When we reached home, I could smell seafood being cooked, and although fish isn't something that I'd ever eat unless I was desperate, there was no doubt that what Grandma and Grandpa were preparing was a feast for the eyes. There were starfish being boiled in pots by the fire while there was smoke emerging from the ceramic pot set that Dad had bought and never used. They were probably smoking the fish to preserve it for later. In the meantime, there were racks of shellfish bubbling over the fire, the smell of soy sauce and caramelized sugar and green onion wafting through the air, as Grandma checked on the variety of dishes she was cooking while Grandma butchered the fish.

We didn't really explicitly state this, but I think we just gave up on our food distribution plans, the whole split of food between our families, because there was just too much food that we needed to eat and too high risk that the food would spoil. Plus, I think we were all just exhausted from the trips to the net, and, after skipping breakfast and lunch today, outside a bowl of salty soup, we were starving.

Everyone, except for Dad since he still hates meat, sat at the dining table, and as Grandma and Grandpa began serving up dishes, we all pounced on the food. Well, everyone except for May and I because even though we were hungry, it was still seafood. While everyone was slurping up the clams and mussels, we just stared gingerly at the food before looking at each other.

"I am literally starving," she said. "But you know..."

"I thought you wouldn't have a problem with this," I replied.

"Well, whatever," she said. "We should just pop a mussel in our mouths together. 'Cause it's moral support or peer pressure."

"Sure," I said before scooping a bit of the mussel meat and holding the spoon in front of my mouth. May did the same thing, but her face was twisted into a scowling grimace.

"Ugh, so gross," she replied. "Neal, why aren't you hyping me up or something?"

"You want me to do one of those softball cheers?" I said. "Because I totally will–"

But before I could do it, May shoved the spoon into her mouth, and I followed her. I thought that I would gag or that the mussel would taste like slimy, rotting fish, but it didn't taste bad. A bit like chicken, though all things meat taste, to some degree, like chicken, mixed with a hint of shrimp and brine. Maybe it's the starvation or the sauces that Grandma smothered the mussels in, but I wanted to go in for seconds, and I noticed that May had reached that same realization. We ended up battling with our utensils, my fork and her chopsticks, so much so that everyone was forced to eat the other dishes.

Dinner was fairly quiet, no one saying particularly much since we were busy stuffing ourselves, but it was comfortable. Amidst the sounds of starfish legs being cracked, the clatters of dishes being rotated in and out of the dining table, and the slurps and sighs of everyone eating, there was just this warm feeling, like our two groups had finally been tied together. I guess that's why when the Coopers left, after praising Grandma and Grandpa's cooking skills, they didn't ask for their share of the seafood.

But I suppose all good things have to come to an end, and because the situation with the Shepards had the possibility of being dire, we told Dad about what had happened after the Coopers had left, minus the part where we saw the Shepards during the first trip back.

"We need to cut ties with the Shepards," Dad said.

"It's too late," Mom replied. "That'll only worsen the situation, and we don't want the Shepards to turn against us."

"You saw how they brought their guns," Dad replied. "It's clear that they were trying to intimidate us."

"Both of you weren't there. I was," Mira said. "They were carrying around guns because they were patrolling, so it's not like they brought it to threaten us–"

"I mean, they did mention that we had to make the 'right' choice," May said, butting into the conversation. "So, like, I think we can put everything together."

"Either way," Mira said. "This could be an opportunity to finally expand the community. Are we close to securing the essentials to make it work long-term? Of course not, but more people means more supplies, and since they have gun knowledge, it'll mean that scavenging expeditions will be safer."

"But we can't trust them," Dad said. "And no community we're in should be built on top of intimidation and fear because we'll be put in danger. They could take what we have and kick us out of our homes, especially since they're bringing the entire night watch with them to us–"

"We have no other option," Mira replied. "If the Shepards are as bad as you say that they are, it's not like we can do anything else. We've just got to hope that things won't be that bad and maybe, there's a chance for this shoddy situation to get better."

"If we're doing this," Dad said. "I want to join the night watch, get some gun training, so that we don't keep getting pushed around–"

"Dad, being a good guy with the gun isn't going to help," Mira replied. "We're going to need careful diplomacy to make this work, and it first starts with the Coopers."

"What do you suggest?" Mom asked Mira, and Mira stepped forwards.

"We need them firmly on our side since both of our families are not particularly gun-experienced," Mira replied. "It's not that the Shepards are a threat, but it's that there are some more radical members present in their group that would be harder to persuade, so it's best that we keep the people we know the best closest to us."

"But what about their guns?" May asked. "All this diplomacy stuff won't work if they just blow us off the world with their rifles."

"They wouldn't do that," Mira said. "Remember, I'm a member of the night watch. They wouldn't turn on one of us that quickly."

"But if they find out about the food that we have," May said. "Not the stuff from the fishing net, but, like, the pantry stuff. We'd literally be hanged."

"That will not happen, May," Mom said, butting into the conversation, before looking at Mira. "Still, there's a risk of us being disposable to the Shepards, so what we should do is take control of farming, just like our split with the Coopers. It's not the perfect vision we all want for a community, but it's what's necessary."

"I'll prepare an exit plan," Dad said. "Let me put a couple things together just to make sure that we'll be able to leave quickly if things go south."

"You do that," Mom replied. "In the meantime, we need to prepare more supplies for the greenhouse and food storage. We'll need to put the seaweed in buckets to compost, and gather salt from the ocean because we'll need tons of it to preserve all the fish that we caught."

And so under Mom's orders, we went on pretending that everything was normal, as if the meeting with the Shepards was just a fever dream, and fulfilled all of her tasks until it was time to sleep. But even though everyone but me was snuggled under their comforters, I could tell that everyone was restless and unable to sleep, and watching them toss in bed, I guess I tried to imagine what each person must've been thinking.

Dad most definitely was thinking about making a run for it and was probably plotting escape routes and backup routes just in case our path gets blocked. I noticed that he has backpacks brimming with cans lined up against the wall in the living room, and the bikes and scooters are near the back door instead of the garage. The safe was even left unlocked and opened so that he or Mira could grab the gun in an emergency.

Mom was probably going over the list of tasks over and over again in her mind since I noticed that her head was facing towards the Dream, the whiteboard with the ideas that'll someday save us. She didn't update the ration list to account for the additional people that'll come if the night watch merges with our group, but I'd imagine that's one of the things she's calculating in her mind. That and the possibility of completing everything on the whiteboard with the additional help.

Or maybe that's what Mira is thinking about. She was tossing around the most, probably out of nervousness since she's going to be the one that has to deliver the message to the Shepards and has the most to lose if everything falls apart. It's like the ability to create a thriving community, the lone lighthouse in the darkness of this world, is just out of reach of her fingertips at the moment, and there must be this thrill in boldly grabbing it, even if there's a risk that it'll just be nothing.

I think I'm torn between Mira and May, who was most likely obsessing about the Shepards' guns. I guess the idea of massive change is appealing, but when I'm at its doorstep, I'm tempted to turn around because then the consequences and doubts begin popping up. And these aren't just irrational doubts, but real, material concerns. It's like I'm in love with the idea of community, but when push comes to shove, I'm straying into May's vision of a tiny partnership.

But now's too late for this panic–that panic should've happened as we were putting up the net. We've accidentally stepped towards that doorway and hopefully, we won't have to brace for what's on the other side.

November 3

In the morning, I was awoken by a rumble outside, and I could tell that everyone else was woken up by the growling of tires crunching against the ash scattered across the streets. There was a dull murmur of people's voices, but for a moment, I think we all thought that it was over and that raiders had found us. But our fear dissipated after Dad looked out of the window because when he turned back to us, the fear had dissipated, replaced by anger.

It turns out that the sound of car wheels that I had heard was not from raiders, which explains the complete lack of the distinct growl of the engine, but from the Shepards and other members of the night watch pushing rusting cars down the road. In the distance, I could see people lugging suitcases and containers filled with materials, moving into the homes that lined our street.

Even though we had terrible bed heads and were yawning, all of us went outside to see what was going on with Dad leading the charge, dressed in his thick night clothes and muttering to himself. Mira tried to get in front of him before he blew up at the Shepards so that she could get a more measured response, but he beat her to the punch.

"What the–" Dad said, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. "What the hell is going on?!"

"We're all moving into the neighborhood," Mrs. Shepard said. "Patrolling all of our different neighborhoods spreads us thin and makes us vulnerable to attacks. If the entire nightwatch is together, we'll be able to defend each other better."

"We should've talked about this first," Dad said. "And what is with the cars?"

"Because we cannot survive alone. There was no other option. I'm sorry that you feel like this has been sprung upon you all, but I promise that it wasn't my intention," she said before pointing around at the cars, lined up in the middle of the street. "We're using the cars to make a barrier to keep the outsiders from hurting us."

"All that will do is make ourselves more visible," Dad replied.

"We're going to be a large community," Mrs. Shepard said. "There's no possibility that we would've been able to remain hidden away and anonymous, so it's better that we get some protection than get ambushed in the future. Eventually the car barrier will be transformed into a wall that'll guarantee our safety."

"But what's a small wall going to do against raiders?" Dad asked.

"Don't worry, we're all packing," Mr. Shepard said, butting into the conversation while tapping at the pistol in the holster on his waist. "No one's going to be able to breach our community. We'll be able to keep you guys safe."

Maybe it was meant to be a friendly gesture, and in any normal scenario, I'd at least not feel discomforted, even if having so many guns out will cause the risk of accidental injury to skyrocket. But the world has turned upside down, and what he said sounded less like a statement to reassure us and more like a threat. Dad definitely seemed alarmed because much of his resistance deflated, even if the anger was simmering underneath his pallid face, as he watched our neighborhood get transformed into a community completely out of his control.

I think Mira noticed that all of us were pretty freaked out by everything that was happening, so what ended up happening is that she ended up introducing us to the other families in the night watch.

There were five other families in the night watch. The first people that we met were the Weavers, an old couple that had moved into the house next to ours. They seemed to be the most gun fanatical since the old man had a rifle slung across his shoulders and his wife was double holstered, but when Mira waved at them, they pulled down their masks and gave a friendly smile.

After a brief introduction, just as we were about to leave, Dad said, "You guys have a lot of guns."

"Oh this old clunker," Mr. Weaver said. "It was my pop's gun, a family heirloom that barely functions. It's completely empty, but just carrying one around keeps us safer. I never particularly liked guns, but I suppose that's life now."

"Same here," Mrs. Weaver said, pulling out the guns from her holster and revealing that they were black, plastic toy guns. "Thank God that we had the Shepards as our neighbors to help keep us protected. We owe them our lives since God knows what would've happened to us without the night watch."

"Thank goodness for that," Mom replied. "You guys are very fortunate."

"Not as fortunate as right now," Mr. Weaver said. "I noticed the greenhouse in your backyard–"

"It's still new," Dad said. "It's not producing yet."

"Of course," Mrs. Weaver said. "It's just that we're excited at the prospect of eating fresh vegetables for the first time since the Mooncrash happened. You all are so generous for being willing to share what you'd built with us, and I promise that we won't be a burden on your family. We're willing to put the work in, no handouts."

"I'm glad to hear that," Mom said. "It was real nice to meet you guys, and right now my older daughter is calling me, so I better go–"

"Of course," Mr. Weaver replied, and though I'm sure he meant it to be friendly, there was this ominousness that echoed what the Shepards had said when he added, "I'm sure we're going to get to know each other well soon."

I think we were all a bit relieved that the next family that we met was a Taiwanese family: a pair of parents and grandparents along with a baby. I guess I've never really thought about race that much, but having so many white people around us with guns, it reminded me of the time when the East Asian couple was targeted because they were the easiest outsiders to scapegoat for our problems. At least having another Asian American family around will prevent that hopefully. I feel like I'm being overly paranoid and making way too many judgements about people about race, but I don't know. I guess it just feels like it's a necessary paranoia, you know.

Mom and them ended up talking a bunch in a mix of Chinese and Taiwanese, and while I can't understand Taiwanese and can only understand small sections of their conversation in Chinese, it seemed like the conversation was going well. Mom ended up relaying us all the information about them as we were walking to the next home.

Mr. and Mrs. Xiao knew the Shepards only somewhat well, a sort of acquaintances of acquaintances situation, before everything happened, but grew much closer after the birth of their kid, Adrian, after Mrs. Shepard helped them during labor when all the hospitals had shut down. It turns out too that the Shepards had a bunch of spare cans of dried baby formula and had donated them all to their family, and Mom emphasized that while they didn't explicitly state that they owe the Shepards their lives and the life of their kid, I think we all know it's obvious.

"I could have my parents talk with their parents," Mom replied. "It'll be good for my parents to talk with other people, give them some normalcy, and we could get closer–"

"I don't think that'd work. It's like the members of the nightwatch are unbreakable," Dad said.

"We're not trying to break them apart," Mom replied. "We just want to get to know everyone better and get settled in so that we're not the outsiders."

"Well, this is a complete nightmare," he responded. "We won't have any allies if they all turn on us."

"Both of you need to calm down," Mira said. "The people on the night watch might be strangers to you both, but they're my friends, and I've seen them every day. Most of the people here are also just meeting each other for the first time too since people don't usually bring their families to patrols–"

"Then why did they just suddenly move in the next day? Weren't we supposed to get time to decide?" Dad asked. "It feels like it was suddenly sprung onto us."

"I don't know," Mira said. "It's the end of the world, so plans change. Can you just please trust me and meet and get to know everyone? I know it's been a chaotic day, but this is the only way that this'll be able to work."

But everyone could sense Dad's skepticism radiating outwards from him, and even Mira's usually unwavering confidence had faded, replaced with a bit of uncertainty about our future. I think everything that's happening is a bit too much change even for her.

We then got to the last house since three of the families were sharing the home just to save heat and space along with helping keep each other safer than they would be if they were alone. The first people that we met was this very religious couple. Actually, I'm not sure if they were actually super religious or like very spiritual because they kept referring to this higher power that circulated between called our Creator, the universe, or life. Funnily enough, we never actually caught their names, so whenever we meet again, it'll probably be awkward because we'll have to be like "Hey you..." But I guess that's life, am I right?

"I believe that life brought our two groups together," the woman said. "Our Creator must've made this happen for a reason."

Mom awkwardly nodded along since there was no good way to add to the conversation. None of us were particularly religious or spiritual, so I have no idea what we could've added that wouldn't potentially cause offense.

"Well, the universe certainly has been kind to us. We're under the protection of the Shepards and now we've found actually good people," the man replied. "I hope that it'll continue blessing your family with good fortune and an abundance of fish."

"Let's certainly hope that it stays that way," Mom said as she shuffled us away quickly so that we wouldn't get dragged into an possibly divisive conversation about religion. When we were out of earshot of them, May literally burst out into laughter as Mom shot her a dirty look.

"What?" May said. "They're literally like the hippie version of those hardcore people that go to your homes and literally try to convert you. Like a complete stereotype"

"That's not very polite. You shouldn't judge people so quickly," Mom said disapprovingly, but she had a small smile hanging at the corner of her mouth that made it very clear that she, at least in some form, thought they were hippie evangelicals.

In the next room, we met the resident lone wolf of the group. I wish I could describe him, but his face was entirely covered by a ski mask, and he had sunglasses on, probably to appear intimidating since the skies were still shrouded in ash. All I caught were tufts of brown hair, and the skin of his hands, which were calloused but not wrinkled. He seemed like around Dean and Mira's age, maybe a bit older, but there wasn't much to go off of from our brief conversation, which consisted of a handshake met with silence, and Dad's awkward comment about the rifle slung around his shoulder.

"That's a big gun," Dad said. "Seems a bit unnecessary–"

"It's needed," the guy said. "Hits targets over a hundred feet away."

Dad's face went pale, even more so than in the morning, and he replied with a meek "Okay" as we scurried out of the room, finished with meeting everyone new and all the eccentric personalities of the night watch.

The last person that we went to visit was Dean, and while there was a hint of the brashness that he had when he had confronted us with the solar panels, in the house, without his gun strapped to his waist, there was this shyness and more conciliatory nature about him.

"I know that we didn't get off the strongest foot when we first met," he said. "But since we're going to be working very closely with each other, I think it's best that we start with a clean slate."

His apology and offer were definitely a bit stiff, and I could see both Mom and Dad furrowing their eyebrows out of skepticism. I mean, the gesture is nice, but it's hard to tell whether it's safe to fully trust him since who knows how genuine his peace offering is. Luckily, before Mom and Dad could voice their skepticism, Mira stepped in.

"Thanks for that, Dean," Mira said. "I'll introduce you to the Coopers, the family that was with us–"

"I think I'm done with the apology tour," he said, snapping at her a bit and Mom looked like she was going to step in and put him in place, but Mira motioned her not to. "I'm not sorry for being skeptical about the Coopers. You just met them a couple of days prior–"

"It was over two weeks."

"Two weeks is nothing–"

"It's everything," Mira said. "It's forever during times like these, and it's been over a month since we've met them, and I know that they're good people. You can't distrust everyone–"

"We'll talk about this later," Dean replied. "Not in front of your family. It was nice to meet you all, but I've got to get going. I've got a lot to move."

He then walked out of the room, the thuds of his loud footsteps echoing in the cramped house, and as we were walking out of the house, Mom said, "You don't need to have to change his mind. You'd have better luck with other members of the night watch."

"I'm not," Mira replied. "It's frustrating to work with him because I know that he means well, but he always looks the wrong way."

"Well that's life," Mom responded. "Sometimes, people don't agree with you."

"Wow, Mom," May sarcastically commented. "That's so deep. I think it's pretty obvious from this family that literally no one agrees with each other."

"I'm just saying to not spend all your emotional energy on him," Mom said to Mira. "I know you're night watch partners, but instead of arguing and hardening his position, go and talk with other people. The Xiaos seem like good allies, and I'm sure that we can get the Weavers or the God couple on our side since they seem like decent people."

"I know," Mira said. "But he'll come around eventually. I know it."

Mom just nodded skeptically at Mira's dream of a fully unified community before telling May and I to head home in order to prevent snooping while she and Dad and Mira helped the families unload their luggage and settle into their new homes. There was nothing much to do for the rest of the day other than watch over the plants and wait till nightfall.

I think that we all knew that the Shepards had told everyone that we had gotten tons of fish, or, even if they didn't, people were going to find out quickly. To get ahead of the game, we invited the entire community to get cooked seafood from our house, everyone getting a bowl of molluscs and other miscellaneous seafood in a warm broth. Unlike our dinner with the Coopers, there wasn't this warmth radiating from this gathering, possibly because we were just handing people food instead of eating with them. However, from people's relief and small smiles as they got handed the soup, I could tell that we were building trust and the foundations of community, one bowl of soup at a time.

In the meantime, Mom slipped the Coopers a package of smoked fish, a gesture to show that we were still the original group, while the rest of us attempted to stuff as much fish as we could in our mouths, except for May and I. We each ate a handful of shellfish, finishing up the rest of it, and if there was no risk of food going bad, I'd feel extremely guilty for eating so much. Even though my stomach and my mind were both feeling better than ever, there was a small part of my brain that is making me feel bad for not feeling like I'm starving. Two weeks of work on the net, only for most of the food to be gone in a couple of days and the net ripped to shreds.

I mean, I guess we're trying to stretch the food for longer. Grandma and Grandpa smoked the fish, but I think that because it's fish, it won't last very long, maybe only a couple of days longer. We've also got a bit of fish that they are trying to pickle, though we don't have much vinegar and need to gather much more salt since sugar is a limited resource. Outside of that, I wish I had brought back some of the alive looking pieces of kelp because we could've gotten another stable source of food set up.

With more people, we're going to need to amp our food supply up in whatever way we can. After all, it's going to be a long winter.

November 4

I spent all morning cooped up in the greenhouse. I'd like to think it was because I wanted to be extra responsible because the water pots needed to be exchanged for hotter ones, and the plants needed to be carefully monitored. The seeds were sprouting well in the cans and makeshift trays that we had constructed, and so far, everything is going alright. I even helped create more compost bins, dumping a mixture of dried leaves and kelp into a bucket in the hopes that they'll create a bit more heat.

But saying that would be disingenuous because the truth is, I was avoiding Caspian. We hadn't talked much because the last two days were chaotic, and now that things have settled, I didn't want to face him after our last conversation. Unfortunately, the universe knew exactly what I was thinking, and while I was hand-mixing the stinky compost with the gardening gloves, Caspian popped into the greenhouse.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I replied, just drowning in the awkwardness between us. At that moment, I really thought that I had made a mistake, opening up a little too much a couple days back, because the post-emotional awkwardness was excruciating. We ended up hemming and hawing around the subject for a while, making the stiffest, smallest talk about the most nothingest of subjects, until in some roundabout way, it eventually made its way back to the memorial.

"Where'd you all learn this gardening stuff?"

"What happened to us trading information: medical facts for gardening?" I asked, semi-jokingly.

"Wow, you think I'm the type of person to steal information," he said. "I'm just kidding. You can ask me where all my medical knowledge came from, but I'm sure that you already know where the bulk of it comes from."

"Fine," I said. "I mean I got it mostly from my mom's side of the family. Grandma and Grandpa are both from rural Taiwan, so they know a bunch of fishing and gardening and butchering stuff, and when my sister and I were younger, we used to go to their plot at the community garden after tennis camp to hang out as they took care of the plants."

"We should grab stuff from the community garden," he said. "Maybe something might've survived there–"

"There's nothing," I responded. "My friend and I– Well, mostly my friend– were the last people to give up on the garden, but with the ash and the lack of sunlight, there was nothing that we could do. Anyways, I'm pretty sure that the last of anything salvageable was destroyed by the earthquake."

"Was this friend the one–"

"Yeah, he was the one that left a month back," I said. "Well more than one month now. I think it's been a month and a week. Feels like forever ago."

"Sometimes, it feels like I've just made up the people that I've lost, like they were just figments of imagination, because it feels like it's been decades since they've just disappeared."

I probably should've said something, but I just stood there in silence because what he said was just so uncomfortably close to the truth of how I'm feeling about Charles. At times, on the days that the memories of the last day flood my mind, details ever so subtly changing with every run-through, I wonder if it ever happened or whether it was just a fever dream that my mind made up to cope with his departure.

"I sound like an idiot, don't I?" he said. "I've never done this before. It's just so uncomfortable to talk about this sh–"

"I get it," I said. "I feel like I'm losing our past and all of our memories every day. It's like I can't do anything about it. It's just, well, happening, I guess is the best way to describe it."

"That's why we have to build the memorial," he replied. "I noticed that we've been beating around the bush with names, so maybe that might be our first step for the memorial. It seems pretty hard to memorialize people if we can't say their names."

"Sure," I responded. "His name was Charles."

But when I glanced at Caspian to speak, his mouth was just wide open, and I could see that he was struggling to choke out the words. It's like no matter how hard he wants to try, there's a part of him, the part that wants to avoid inflicting hurt and pain on others, that's got him anchored into position. He looked embarrassed and his face was bright red.

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I suggested this idea, and it's so embarrassing that I can't even take the tiniest–"

He then swore a bunch, and I didn't know what to say, so I just blurted out, "It's alright. It's–"

"No, it's not alright," he responded. "I should be better–"

"Not really. You lost more than me," I said. "I guess, I don't know, we can talk about this some other day, you know. I feel like it's been completely chaotic these few days. And, you know, you still owe a medical fact. Remember when I asked about the dirty water or hydrogen peroxide. Did you ever figure out which is better?"

I guess he just seemed a bit relieved that we had swapped subjects because the awkward nervousness that had gripped him had loosened, and there was this return back to his easy-going confidence, even if the shine had dulled a bit.

"I did, in fact," he said. "Peroxide is better. It'll damage you and hurt like crazy, but no chance of getting a nasty infection."

"That's cool," I said, bobbing my head like usual. "I mean, not the whole hurting a bunch part, but–"

"Well, I'd hope that you wouldn't think that was cool," he said with a small smile, a more timid and shy one that I was used to seeing from him. I couldn't help but smile back at him even if I guess it feels a bit more sad than his normal cheerful grin that he'd plaster on. There was this vulnerability there, the bit of sadness from our conversation seeping through, and in some ways, I do feel guilty for making him continue his facade of happiness. But I guess maybe this time, he wasn't faking it because at least he's being a little more open. At least that's what I tell myself.

I suppose that was the more bearable part of the day because it was just filled with constant arguments, much more so compared to the negotiations that we had expected to fulfill. I knew that making a community would be difficult, but who knew that we'd have to deal with this much fear and distrust?

We ended up having a small community meet up just between the leaders of the two groups, Mom and Dad representing ourselves and to some extent, the Coopers, and the Shepards representing the night watch.

"The community was started by us, and it's our house and area that is going to be the headquarters for the community, so we're going to be the leaders of the community," Dad announced at the beginning of the meeting.

"No," Mr. Shepard said. "That wouldn't be fair to any of us. If we're going to be providing a service to you guys, then we deserve representation in the community decision making process."

"We never even wanted–" Dad was about to say, but he was cut off by Mrs. Shepard.

"Obviously, I understand the situation is complicated and unexpected," she replied. "And I do respect your wishes, but we need to come up with a system that will be stable and work for us in the long-run."

"What do you suggest?" Mom asked.

"One vote per family," Mrs. Shepard said. "It'll create a clean distribution of power and is easy to under–"

"That won't work with us," Mom replied. "Your group has how many families? Five families to our two families."

"We shouldn't be treating this a sides game," Mrs. Shepard said. "We're all on the same team here. No one here is your or the other family's enemy."

"We've seen the worst of humanity out there," Dad responded. "And we need to be sure that we don't turn into them because, to be honest, we don't know you."

And their argument went on and on in circles, as Dad's response provoked an annoyed retort from Mr. Shepard, which in turn caused an increasingly irritated Mom to snap back. Then, Mrs. Shepard would try to step in and attempt to calm the situation down, which would make Dad mad because he'd blame them for causing all of this chaos and so on. I could see Mira on the sidelines, just waiting for the right moment to step into the vicious cycle of fighting, so I went up to talk with her.

"Are you going to save Mom and Dad here?" I asked.

"I think I've got a solution," she replied as she fidgeted with her fingers before sighing. "But I need a few minutes to just map it out because it has to be perfect since anything other than that and we'll just need to call it a day on getting a community up and running."

"I'd say just go for it," I said. "I swear Mom and Dad are going to murder someone in the next couple of minutes if we don't reach something. This is your dream, and I know you've thought about this situation hundreds of times, so you'll be fine."

Just as I finished talking, there was a lull in the conversation, everyone catching their breath to begin another cycle of arguments, so I nudged Mira in. Just as Dad was about to open his mouth to start another bickering battle, Mira took a deep breath and spoke.

"What if we change this council system," Mira replied, with only a faint hint of nervousness in her voice. "Every adult gets a vote instead of votes being distributed per family. It makes it fairer to all of us since every person will get the ability to express their opinion and this evens out the distribution of votes."

While Dad was about to speak out, Mom put a hand on his shoulder, telling him to trust Mira, and he ended up giving a begrudging nod as the Shepards seemed to soften their position and seem more at ease.

"Also, I was thinking about giving our family a veto power," Mira said, looking at Dad and Mom, who both nodded approvingly. "It's our neighborhood, and we made the foundation, so I feel that we should be given the final choice of things that we're planning on doing."

"A veto is too powerful," Mrs. Shepard said. "We need to have a system to check it because otherwise, no offense to you or your family, it becomes a tyranny of the minority."

"Unanimous approval to overturn the veto," Mira replied. "So you'll need ten votes, excluding our family."

"Six votes," Mrs. Shepard said. "Unanimous is far too strong–"

"Six is too low," Mira replied. "That makes the veto functionally useless since it'll be basically a majority vote. How about eight votes, an 80% veto standard if more people join our community. Even if the Coopers side with us, you all will still have the votes to overturn our family veto. And I'll throw in an additional bonus: the veto overturn will drop to a 2/3 majority in six months."

"Can we push it down to seven," Mrs. Shepard replied. "And 60% in three months with the veto expiring at six months–"

"That won't work," Mira said. "My offer is the farthest we'll compromise."

"Let's work with that initial framework," Mrs. Shepard said. "Though I'm sure that we'll be making adjustments in the upcoming weeks."

Then there were more discussions about more mundane topics, like the distribution of work and our short term plan for the future. We ended up forming four loose groups for the night watch. One would be the foraging group, responsible for gathering the thousands of nuts from the oak and pine trees scattering the woods near our house along with any mushrooms or whatever edible is out there. The second would be the protection group, responsible for maintaining and building the car wall surrounding our city in order to turn it into an actual barrier and not some loose string of vehicles that is more of a liability than an asset.

Our third group would be the scavengers, and they'd be responsible for the long-distance journeys to gather specialized supplies, like solar panels and construction materials, along with finding more gardening and food supplies. The last group would be to gather the two Ws: wood and water, and everyone would rotate through the group since our community's population has more than doubled, and we're going to need tons of water to keep the greenhouse running.

Creating the groups, there obviously were issues. I guess Dad was still a bit hesitant and reluctant to fully embrace the scavenging group because there's still a part of him that's clinging to the fantasy of full self-sufficiency without needing to fall into the potential trap of scavenging. But even he gave up his resistance quickly in the face of the change washing over us with the new community and new people and new situations.

"You aced it," I told Mira as soon as the Shepards had left and the situation had cooled down as the sky darkened and the night watch members on the midnight shift began lighting up small campfires outside for warmth and to illuminate the upcoming darkness. Now that we were a larger community, it was far harder to hide and hope that you'll slip between the gaps of raiders. We had to embrace the night watch, whether we wanted to or not.

"It felt so good," she said. "A little stressful, but amazing. I think we finally figured out things, at least for right now. I'm just– I'm just so excited for the future."

"Yeah, I have no idea how you did it and just, like, went for it," I replied. "High stakes diplomacy seems too stressful, but you, like, actually fixed the council issue, which I thought would've taken forever."

"Hey, don't discount yourself," she said. "Being partly in charge of the greenhouse is also a big deal."

"I wish it wasn't such a big deal," I said. "The greens are all sprouting nicely, but if the greenhouse sheeting gets ripped off by the winds or the water boiling system somehow misses a location in the greenhouse or if we forget to water the plants or check for frost–"

"Stop occupying yourself with all these dreary 'What ifs'," she said. "This won't happen. I'll even double check the sheeting for the greenhouse tomorrow to make sure that it won't fall off. I won't let the universe do that to you, you know. That's what a big sis is for."

"Thanks," I said while nodding as the conversation slowed down into a brief moment of silence. "You should become our community diplomat."

She laughed. "As much as I want to press the gas pedal on that, I think I'll take this slower for now. It's tempting to just jump for the dream, but I know that I've first got to build up trust in the community, in all of us, before doing that."

"I think I might know a way to do that," I replied. "It's something that Caspian and I are working on–"

"Oh, what is this mysterious project?" she asked.

"It's really not that special. It's just a memorial," I said. "It's for the people who aren't here with us now, you know. Like the people who disappeared or died or are just gone. I guess we're just doing it because he's having a hard time, you know, and maybe having this in our community might help everyone and bring people together."

"That's a great idea. It's very thoughtful," she replied. "Where are you guys planning–"

"We haven't really gotten to that step," I said. "You know, we're still making small steps to the dream. I guess, really small steps for Caspian, but we're figuring things out. I guess things like this just take some time, you know."

But sometimes, I wonder what's stopping me from just figuring everything out right now. Part of me feels like I tell everyone and myself that I need more time just to stall and delay and push something back. I don't know. Maybe with time, I'll run out of energy and motivation to keep stalling, and actually just go for it because I had long finished with the processing and just need the push to take the leap.

November 5

It was so strange to see the neighborhood bustling in the morning.

I've been so used to the homes around us being deserted and abandoned, the only movement within them being the curtains, fluttering in front of open windows that the original owners had forgotten to close and, for some homes, broken glass. At dawn, the only sounds used to be the crackling of the fire, the rustling branches because of gales from the ocean, and Grandma and Grandpa's soft murmurs of conversation.

But now, there's movement everywhere. I saw the Shepards working with the Xiaos in pushing the cars into place, though I noticed from the corner of my eye that Dad was flashing them a dirty look since the Shepards were sitting in the driver's seat of a car that they most definitely did not own. Still, no one wanted to question when or where they learned how to hot-wire a vehicle. In my neighbor's backyard, the Weavers and Mr. Cooper were talking about something, and even though I couldn't make out their exact words, the sound filled the air with the warmth of normal conversation. Although we all looked like pallid ghosts, drifting between the empty homes, it was at least something.

On the community billboard that had been erected in front of the Weavers home, I noticed that the food foraging group was scheduled to head out this morning to get nuts from the forest. Gardening has been fairly boring since the plants are still young, and I don't feel like it's fair for me to claim that I've been gardening all day, so I decided to tell Mom and Dad that I was going to help out.

"Are you sure?" Mom asked. "Maybe it's better to stay back right now, and let us take the lead."

Dad added, "For all we know, they could kidnap you and hold you hostage in exchange for food."

"That's not going to happen," Mom said, chiding Dad, but I could see that he was still unsure, so I decided to change up my approach.

"Well, we need someone to keep an eye on them because if it's only night watch members there, we don't know if they'll be completely honest about the food situation," I replied. "Like they totally could claim that they didn't find much food while foraging when they actually did."

Mom and Dad both looked at each other before Mom responded, "Alright, but just be careful and don't get hurt."

"Don't worry," I said, and as I was leaving the house to head to the foraging meeting spot, I caught a glimpse of May in the house. I think she heard my conversation with Mom and Dad because she was giving me a weird look, like she was envious of the ease at which Mom and Dad agreed with me.

The gun guy and the spiritual couple were the ones leading the foraging group, coincidentally the two groups of people whose names I could not recollect at all, and we walked together to the woods. Just as we were about to exit the shoddily constructed wall, I heard a "Hey" behind me as Caspian jogged up.

"Oh, hey," I replied. "You're here."

"Damn, that's harsh," he said. "All I get is a 'you're here.'"

"I mean, yeah?"

"I'm just messing with you," he replied. "I mean, it gets to the point. I am here, and you know what, my presence is making your day better, so you better upgrade your greeting."

"Whatever you say," I said and received a playful punch from Caspian.

While we were walking, I noticed some brown patches present within the dark green needles of the pine trees scattered around our community. They were only tiny brown patches, and could be caused by branches breaking since, with the deciduous trees being bare-branched, there was no buffer against the oceanic winds.

But there was a chance that the trees were beginning to die-off and that nature would finally turn into a vast swath of lifeless gray. I suppose that's why we're foraging now because we've got to catch the last bits of what nature has to offer before it all disappears for good and the last bit of plant life will be the crops we're growing in greenhouses. I mean, thinking about it now, plant life can't totally disappear since all those ground dwelling plants in the forest thrive off of zero sunlight, so maybe I'm being too pessimistic.

The eccentric couple actually ended up being fairly knowledgeable about botany, even if it was mixed with more weirdness and confusion about what they believed in. Also, after I had nudged Caspian just before they began talking to ask about what their names were, I finally got an answer: they were the Johnsons.

"Or something like that," Caspian said just as he had told me their names. "I remember it was something generic American. It'd just be more convenient if they had a name as unique as their personality because they're a little... strange."

"That's kinda mean," I said. "But I guess they will forever be referred to as the 'hippie evangelicals' in my diary."

"Now that's actually mean," Caspian said with a small laugh that made me smile a bit. "I can't believe you're still writing in the diary. I mean, isn't it so tedious to do so, just writing about what happened in the day and repeating that every single day?"

"Not really," I replied. "I used to be a pretty casual journaler, with only a couple hundred words squeezed in every day, but ever since the Mooncrash, I guess I've been writing a lot more. I want to keep track of everything that's happening. It's like a sort-of document of life right now, to make sure that we don't forget anything."

"And anyone," I added silently in my head because that's ultimately what this diary carries. Charles, Leon, the random people that we had briefly met, the receptionist at the hospital or the librarian from Texas, and the letters from people we'll never meet sent to people we'll probably never see. And maybe someday, it'll carry the final memories of the people who are still around me, including myself.

"Alright, folks," Mrs. Johnson (I'm sticking with Caspian's name until something better comes up) said. "Or, well, the four other people here–four is certainly a very fortuitous number–"

I admit that I snickered a bit here since I couldn't hold it back, and Caspian looked at me with a strange look since he was missing the inside joke that only Chinese speakers could understand. I ended up having to explain it to him later, but basically, four sounds awfully like death in Chinese, making it most definitely not a fortuitous number by any means.

Mr. Johnson then spoke up. "We're going to be primarily gathering nuts, primarily acorns and pinecones, though the latter is something my wife and I will be handling. You young folk should be looking for hole-less acorns, unless you prefer the extra protein, and hopefully, the universe will provide us with an abundant bounty."

"And let us know if you spot any prickly plants, like thistles or blackberries," Mrs. Johnson added. "Life often brings us surprises, and I sure am hoping for some fresh greens to spice up our lives during these trying times."

They ended up going on and on about making sure to avoid picking poisonous nuts, like those from the buckeye tree, and stressing the importance of checking for any maple and birch trees present. It was a bit unnecessarily long since they kept cutting themselves off and bumbling around so much that I could even see the gun guy let out a sigh. Finally, at the end of everything, Mrs. Johnson said, "May the hand of your Creator guide you."

"If you need help, shout," the gun guy gruffly added from underneath his full-face mask, and we all nodded before dispersing into the forest.

"So I am curious," Caspian said as we were crouched down, plucking acorns from the brush and dried leaves and tossing them into a bag. "What did you write about me in the journal?"

"I won't say," I said.

"C'mon," he said. "Are you embarrassed that you wrote that I was the hot and mysterious volleyball player?"

I froze for a second because I had a mini-panic attack. For a second, I thought that he had read my diary, maybe when we had gone on the journey to get solar panels while I was sleeping, and read all the embarrassing things that I had written just for myself. But then he continued, "I bet you raved about my beautiful curls–"

"I mean, I really wouldn't consider them curls," I said. "Your hair is pretty short."

But he just ignored my quip and waved me off. "Or my sparkling sapphire eyes or my used-to-be beach body–"

"Okay, I think we get the point," I said.

"So did you write that?"

"Unfortunately, no," I said. "Though I think I might now add a paragraph about how 'Caspian is narcissistic.'"

"So you are writing about me?" he said. "I'm honored to be a part of your document about the end of the world. I'm sure that there will be people in the future looking over the document and thinking, 'Man, I wish I could see this Caspian person in real life because from the descriptions, he's smokin'.'"

"That's real funny," I said sarcastically, though for some inexplicable reason Caspian laughed a bit, as we continued the back-breaking work of bending down to pick acorns from browned leaves.

Once we had gathered every single pinecone and acorn in the general vicinity, we all headed back to Johnson's house to begin the process of extraction. Caspian got assigned to the duty of painstakingly prying open pinecones while I had to smash open acorn husks to get seeds while making sure that I discarded any acorn with a hole in it that we had accidentally grabbed to avoid accidentally eating maggots, though I suppose given our circumstances, I think there are people that would kill for maggots.

While I was smashing acorns in the room, there was a knock on the door. I was expecting Caspian, but instead, May popped in and sat on the floor.

"What were you doing all day while I was out?" I asked her.

"I was literally stuck sewing again," May replied with a groan. "Mom is literally so obsessed with repairing the net. Like we're trying to use yarn to repair the holes. It's literally such a waste."

"Well, I'm stuck with doing something even more tedious than sewing," I responded, pointing at the massive stack of acorns that were still remaining.

"Well, smashing things is at least fun," she said before lowering her voice and leaning towards me. "So how's spying on the weird couple and the other weirdo going? Isn't that why Mom and Dad sent you–"

"I'm not spying on–"

"Shh," she said. "Speaker softer. Like, do you literally want the whole world to hear what you're saying because literally every single person left in the world is here."

"Well, I'm not spying," I spoke-whispered. "I'm just trying to help out, that's all."

"Yeah, because that's totally what you told Mom and Dad–"

"They heard what they wanted to hear," I replied. "It's not like I was lying–"

"Whatever. Keep lying to yourself. I could literally care less," she said. "Anyways, I was thinking of telling Mom and Dad that when I join that new scavenging–"

"C'mon, don't do that," I responded with a groan.

"What?" she said. "Unlike you, I'll actually be spying on the Shepards and getting important information. And there's literally so many valuable things that we'll find while scavenging, and you think that the Shepards are going to actually tell the truth about what they find."

"What happened to the whole two weeks–"

"You've literally made no effort in doing anything. You're just stalling for time," she replied, and I sighed because she was right since I was just hoping that she would forget.

"Why are you telling me?"

"Because you owe me," she replied. "Anything, anytime, anywhere. Those are your words–"

"Can't you talk with Mom and Dad?"

"Are you actually not paying attention?" she asked rhetorically. "Mom and Dad are never going to let me go because they literally never change, and I'm sick of just going for homes that have nothing in them every once in a while. You should be happy that there's a scavenging group because it'll be much easier to cover for me, and I'll be safe-ish with the Shepards."

"You shouldn't fully trust the Shepards," I said.

"Wow, what happened to the Neal who thought everyone was great," she replied. "You're literally mansplaining the most obvious things to me. I know where my loyalties lie."

"You should be careful. That's all I'm saying."

She stood up and brushed off the acorn dust from her pants, and as she was heading out of the door, she turned back. "You don't need to play protective older brother. I'll probably be protecting you. Also, just an FYI. I'll be out next Sunday."

I shrugged her off, and once she left, I continued smashing the acorns with a newfound energy from my frustration. I wish that I didn't always have to cover for May all the time, and I wish that Mom and Dad would just let her grow up.

But I know that they're going to say, beyond just the fact that she's too young. I guess Dad was right. The lifestyle of scavenging and consuming and repeating that over and over again is addictive. There is this potent combination of danger and abdication of responsibility, though I wouldn't exactly describe it like that since we're using the salvaged material to build up our community, that makes it irresistible to some.

But not particularly for me. Yeah, breaking open the shells of acorns is fairly menial and grinding them down with a pestle and mortar is downright dull. Yet, there's something calming about having time to think and breathe, and I wish that May got that. It's these small moments that build up community, not just flashy items snatched from abandoned homes and the remains of looted stores, but I guess I get where she comes from. Washing acorns in a basin of water to remove toxins doesn't look particularly productive nor inspiring, and maybe there's a chance that the scavenging trip brings back something game changing.

Plus, it's good for morale, which is something that Caspian was definitely lacking as he was prying open pine seeds from the shells. We'd been doing it for around four hours, and while I had completely finished prepping my acorns, he wasn't even done with half a stack of pinecones.

"You need help?" I asked. "I'm done with the acorns, and I guess I was just wondering if you needed assistance."

"Overachiever," he said. "I'm just peeling the pine nuts right now. Getting the shell off is such a pain."

I sat down next to him. "How do you do it?"

He grabbed a pine seed and held it in front of me. "What you do is that you want to hold both ends of the pine nut, and at the edge of the shell, you would use your nail to place pressure on it to make a little dent. Then you squeeze at the ends, pull out, and roll the seed and it should just pop out."

But when he did it, the shell remained firmly on the seed. "Damn. These seeds seem to hate me."

"I can try," I said and followed his instructions, making sure to be both gentle and firm with the seed, and after a bit of wriggling at the very end, the smooth white seed popped out of the shell. Caspian looked at me and the seed with surprise.

"How are you good at everything you do?" he asked. "You need to teach me your secrets because I'm definitely doing something wrong."

"Let me see what you're doing," I replied, and while he was attempting to peel off the shell, I noticed that he wasn't forming enough of a crack into the seed and showed him how to do it. When he used his fingernail and actually pressed firmly on the shell, I could hear a small crack, and the seed rolled right out of the shell.

"Yes!" he shouted, and when he looked at me, he gave me one of those smiles that just makes you want to smile right back and maybe blush a bit because you almost feel embarrassed that you are so happy that another person is happy. And maybe I was blushing also because I like Caspian, like being around him and talking and stuff like that, and that what I'm feeling is moving past some not-really-lusty crush to something of a more intimate pining is the best I can describe it as. I guess it does feel a bit wrong because he's still, at least somewhere on the inside, grieving the loss of his boyfriend, but I didn't stop to think about that during that moment.

I felt that warm feeling even as ashes began snowing down on us as I began walking home from the Johnsons. By then, everybody had headed home, except for Mira and Dean, who were both on duty for the evening night watch shift, and they were engaged in such a frigid silent glare with each other that they didn't notice that I had waved at them. Or maybe it was the gray haze that was rising from the ground, enshrouding our community in a wall that seemed stronger and more imposing than the meek one that we had built, pitted with holes and gaps.

That feeling even carried when we were eating a quiet dinner. I think Dad suggested that we play a board game tonight in the morning, but I'm pretty sure we'd all forgotten about that by nightfall. All we did was stuff as much smoked fish in our mouths as possible and chew. Even May and I nibbled on a couple of pieces since it was better than an empty stomach. After we all left the dining table, I noticed Mom pulling up the rationing sheet, readjusting the meal plans after the surplus of these few days.

It didn't even fade when everyone had fallen asleep, and I was the only one up, boiling up pots of water for the greenhouse and refilling the fireplace with more wood. The sprouts in the greenhouse were still doing well, the leaves looking a bit small but not wilted, and I just wanted to transfer this warmth to them so that we'd get enough crops to make it past winter and beyond.

And it was still there as I gazed at the photo of the perfect looking guy in the magazine. I haven't pulled out the magazine for a long while, at least that's how it felt, but I guess I felt like pulling it out today. I guess I did it because I wanted to preserve this feeling, if that makes sense. Before Caspian, there was this guy, and because Caspian wasn't next to me, I returned to the guy in the magazine to keep holding onto this fluttering feeling.

I just hope that I won't mess it up and never experience it again because I guess I have a feeling that he might like me too.

November 6

The first thing that I had noticed when Caspian arrived to gather water was that his short-ish blonde hair was covered in a turquoise and white baseball cap. I thought that, for a change, I'd begin the conversation after we picked up our buckets and began the weekly trudge to the river.

"That's a new hat," I said. "I've never seen it before."

"This thing?" he said, and there was an overly long pause before the words came rushing out of him. "It was my boyfriend's."

I was a bit surprised because that's the first time that Caspian has ever mentioned his boyfriend while sober, and after being caught off guard, questions began flooding my mind because I felt like this was finally a chance to possibly help Caspian with his contribution to the memorial and remove the weight of the sadness that was burdening him. I decided to start with the most basic question.

"Oh, was he on the baseball team?" I asked.

"Yeah. I just realized that we're like– You know how every teacher we've had is married to another teacher?"

"Kind of," I said. "I mean, it's pretty strange."

"I know," he replied. "But I just realized that we were just like that: the baseball player dating the volleyball player. We were always trying to cut practice early to catch each others' games whenever we could since, conveniently enough, our two seasons overlapped. It was always such a pain."

Even though he was wearing a mask, from the way that his eyes scrunched up and his sort-of wistful, reminiscent tone, I could tell that he was smiling underneath it. Maybe it's easier to start about the positive memories first, the sort-of lighter and brighter moments, before starting with names since there's something about a name that feels so high stakes, encompassing everything from the best moments to the worst.

"That's nice," I replied.

He chuckled a bit as we paused and placed the water buckets on the ground to let our aching arms get some rest, after already exerting them yesterday during the foraging expedition. "You seem surprised."

"I mean, that's dedication, you know."

"It's what you do for love," he replied more quietly, a soft statement that could've been covered by a strong gust of wind or an untimely holler, before perking up. "So what was your friend, Charles, like?"

"I mean. I don't know. That's such a broad question, you know," I said. "But he loved bad puns or just puns in general, though most of them were groan worthy. I feel like you and him would've been good friends, you know."

"Are you implying that my pun game is not on point?" he replied. "I'm o-pun-ded. Get it, offended is–"

"That wasn't even a pun," I said with a laugh.

"Then you need to give me one of his famous puns," he said. "Just one example to see where I could improve on."

"I mean, I can't think of a good one right now," I replied.

"C'mon, don't lie to me."

I was going to cave in and tell him one, but at that moment, I realized that I couldn't remember a single pun from on top of my head. I know Charles made tons of them at every moment, no matter how inopportune, but I just couldn't recall a single one, and I guess I had a mini-panic attack at that moment. It's just like what I feared, where I attempt to hold on to the memory of the last day so hard that everything around just crumbles, and I was flooded with guilt because I should've known and done and been better.

"I just don't really want to ruin his memory," I said, a response in between the truth and a lie. "I feel like I'm going to botch the pun, but maybe when the time is right and a good pun comes up, I'll reveal it."

"Well, I'll be waiting for it," he said, and I think he knew that I wasn't exactly being truthful, even if he was probably understanding that I didn't particularly want to talk about it.

After that, we walked in silence, letting the wind whip up a couple of dead leaves as the ash rose from the ground like mist on a winter day, enveloping both of us into a bit of a bubble. I suppose the veil of gray provided a bit more privacy from Mira and May's prying ears. It was nice to feel a bit alone.

I think Caspian thought the same because once they disappeared into the distance, their dark silhouettes only barely visible, Caspian turned towards me."You remind me a lot about him, you know. He was a good listener, even in the moments when I go on and on, and it's easy to be around you too."

At first, I was a bit confused because I wasn't sure who he was referring to with "him," but then I realized that it was his boyfriend. And I guess I had no idea how to feel because on the one hand, I guess it felt like an honor to remind him of someone close to him, but on the other hand, I guess my anxiety and fear just shot up. I don't want to mess things up with him, and if I reminded him of his boyfriend, I don't want to mess with the last memories Caspian had of him. But I snapped myself out of my mind to just blurt out of a response.

"Well, uh, thanks," I said, probably blushing hard under my mask. "I guess you remind me of Charles too. It's not just the puns or stuff like that, but it's like, I don't know. Kinda the same thing you said."

"Aww. That's sweet," he replied as we dipped the water buckets into the ever dwindling river before heading back home.

I guess there was a pretty long moment of silence, and I was pretty sure that I had messed things up with my hasty response since it was delivered with a ton of filler words and just was painfully awkward. I thought about apologizing, but I felt like that'd make things awkward for him, so I just chose to not talk. I thought I had made the wrong choice, but then, out of nowhere, the confession happened.

"His name was Gabe," Caspian said with a sigh of relief. "But his nickname was Zion."

I raised my eyebrows. "Zion, huh?"

"It's a story for another day," he replied wistfully, gazing a bit into the distance, probably reliving the memory of when the nickname was created.

We didn't talk much, at least in terms of substantive conversation, after that, but I was alright with that because I could see that there was a weight lifted from Caspian. I know that it's not going to last since I know that the process of creating the memorial will inevitably bring out the uglier and more painful emotions. But for right now, he's happy, glowing even at the prospect of taking the first step, and I think that's more than enough for the both of us, even if, perhaps, there's a messier and deeper pain that he's not ready to approach yet.

I suppose that's not the only major change. With more people around, Mom and Dad actually got a break from wood-chopping, so while Mom was out in the neighborhood, mingling with everyone and helping out with miscellaneous tasks, Dad was at home. While I was taking a small bathroom break from gathering water, I noticed Dad sitting on the couch with a piece of kelp in his hand and a bucket of seawater next to his legs. He didn't notice me standing there until he broke out into a coughing fit that snapped him out of his empty gaze.

"Oh, hey son," Dad replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Just to use the bathroom," I said.

Dad held up his hand with the seaweed in it. "You remember the touching pools in the aquariums, like the one in Monterey?"

I did remember. The last time that I had visited the Monterey Aquarium was for a fourth grade field trip, and much of my memories about the trip had decayed, there were a few moments that had been seared into my mind. An orange and brown striped jellyfish floating against a bright blue backdrop, leopard sharks darting in between long fronds of kelp in the turquoise waters, and, of course, the touching pools. I remembered the feeling of hermit crabs scuttling on my palm and the smooth abalone shells and the seaweed infused shells of tide pool crabs so vividly.

But I just responded with a tepid. "Yeah. They were pretty fun."

"I was thinking of making one, just to reacquaint myself with the ocean," Dad said. "You and May and Mira all loved playing with them, and I thought I should use this day off to see what I was missing out on."

"Well, you do you," I replied.

"You seem really busy."

"It's just that we're running a bit behind with the water gathering," I said. "And I don't want to offload the work to the people gathering water tomorrow. It's, like, the responsible thing to do, you know."

"Taking responsibility, huh?" Dad replied. "You're becoming a real man now."

"Yeah, whatever," I said, always uncomfortable with the weird obsession with "becoming a man" that Mom and Dad had. "I have to really go now, so you can, you know, continue with your whole touching pool project or whatever Mom is making you do."

"Your mom isn't making me do this. I'm doing it for myself," Dad replied. "I told you. I'm still trying."

"Well, continue trying," I said and flashed him a thumbs up as I left the house without even using the restroom. I guess I didn't really need to use the bathroom anymore.

Looking back at it now, I guess I was being very dismissive and snippy at Dad for no reason, and I guess I feel a bit guilty for being like that. It's just that my conversation with Caspian made me think about Charles, and there's still this lingering anger present every time that I'm around Dad, one that I'm not sure that I want to let go of. If I let it go, then I'd know that I'd have to keep moving on, and I just want to wait until someone is by my side. It's best that both Dad and I go at our own slow paces towards whatever's at the ending of a journey of healing.

Still, it feels like change is in the wind, wrapping around every person in our community and pushing all of us towards an uncertain future, no matter how hard some people anchor themselves into the ground. Mom, after talking with the other members of the community, has already planned a schedule out for me to maximize my interactions with the night watch community. I'll have to help the Shepards build the wall tomorrow and then the day after hang with another community member and so on. It's like we just met all these people three days ago, but we're already integrating ourselves into their community and lives.

I'm trying to see the positives in the changes that are happening because as many pitfalls and traps and horrible endings that could happen as a result of our two communities merging, the path to the perfect (or as perfect as possible) community has never been clearer. We've finally got the people to expand the greenhouse and ensure a stable electricity and food supply and keep each other safe, and it's like the idea of us reaching this goal is so clear but so out of reach that I almost feel like change isn't happening fast enough. It'd be pretty amazing to see this tomorrow, but I know that someday in the future, that tomorrow will actually come true.

So in some way, I guess I'm doing the best I can to embrace the changes hurtling towards me and not just the ones that have to do with community-building but also with Caspian. I guess today made a future where he sees me the same way that I see him possible or, at least, not impossible since there might be something between us. Maybe someday things will just fit into place, like autumn leaves falling and forming the perfect mosaic, for things to progress into something more.

But for the moment, that'll remain just another "maybe someday," just another dream from a perpetual dreamer.