October 6
We've emptied out the house.
It turns out that the Hunters were avid campers, like fairly hardcore ones. Because the garage was so dark when we first raided it, May and I only got glimpses of all that they had, like the fishing poles and the axe that we took. But it turns out, in the unmarked cardboard boxes and large, opaque plastic bins that lined the walls, there were many more supplies to be found.
We found dozens of brightly colored lures and dried fish bait laying in the cardboard boxes along with a whole family of fishing rods. I'm not sure how useful fishing rods are going to be, given how unstable the ocean is, but maybe we could try our luck in the reservoir or in the rivers. But either way, Grandpa was super stoked to see them. I don't think I've ever seen him that happy before.
Mom even found some fish netting. Well, technically, it's gardening netting to prevent things like squirrels and rabbits from bounding into the garden and eating all of the crops, but she thinks that she can transform it into a net via the power of arts and crafts. We could hang the net in the tidal zone between two homes, and we wouldn't even need a boat to move the netting to capture the fish because the tide will push them straight into the nets. Even though I hate eating seafood, the thought of having a bit more food seems reassuring.
Even Dad was impressed by the riches in the Hunters home. He was hanging in the part of the garage that contained all the plywood boards and tools. "We can protect our windows with these. Maybe even build a bin."
"See," Mom said, her face dimly lit by a fading flashlight. "You don't need to be scared of dreaming big."
Dad grunted, but anyone could see the smallest hint of a smile on his face.
The only cart that we had was the medium sized wagon that we used for wood-gathering, so we brought some old suitcases for carrying everything back. If anyone had seen us, they'd probably think we were crazy because we looked like clueless tourists that arrived during the worst season to travel, rolling our suitcases behind us and blissfully ignorant of the desolation around us.
We brought back so much stuff. There were synthetic fertilizers, both liquid and solid, pill-looking forms, and bags of mulch that we didn't really know what to do with. We still took them back, possibly to burn sometime in the future because they were wood chips, and saved some of the peat-moss for gardening purposes since I know that they can help with drainage (or something like that). There was an assortment of shovels, and Dad made sure that they made their way home because he said that they could be weapons.
There were also just other basics that they left behind. We added to our, surprisingly still large toilet paper stash, and having some extra tissues and paper towels would always be useful once the toilet paper inevitably gets all used up. We also found some Christmas wrapping paper, so if those run out, we'll have some backup. And the cardboard boxes can back up the wrapping paper, if we cut the cardboard pieces really thin. That's all assuming we don't burn the boxes first, but whatever. It's nice to have a backup to the backup of the backup (Wow, that was a mouthful to write).
There were just a bunch of miscellaneous items that we found: saucepans and clay pots that were nearly too heavy to carry, a plastic Christmas tree that Mom brought back, only because it could be useful for bartering and because the metal pole trunk could be sharpened into a spear, and a plastic globe.
"Maybe they'll use this to get a geographical advantage," Mom said as she grabbed it, and she says that I'm the hoarder of the family.
Mom and Dad handled the more dangerous things in the garage, like the pesticides in case they were leaking, along with some of the cleaning supplies, like bleach and ammonia. I know that it's a pretty dark thought, but we could mix the bleach with some of the white vinegar that we have at home to produce chlorine gas, which can, well, eliminate someone. I think bleach also reacts with ammonia, but I forgot exactly what it makes.
We grabbed countless other items that I cannot remember, but there was one thing that we noticed: there was no food at all. We searched everywhere, probing for creaky floorboards and hollow walls to see if there were any hiding spots for food, but we had no luck. It's probably why the Hunters left so much behind because they had brought all of their food along with them.
And with how scarce food is in this deserted house, it makes me wonder if Charles was actually lying to me about how much food his family actually had when they made their trip to the South. He said that there was enough and seemed to be better, so he must've been eating a bit more. But at the same time, there was only so much food that you could get from these abandoned homes, especially since those who fled to the South probably took all of theirs for the journey.
Maybe I'm just extrapolating and that this house isn't representative of all the houses in this city. The Hunters seemed to be very capable and prepared people, so they were probably extra diligent. Most people would be less so, leaving behind a box of cereal in the basement or a couple cans of beans in an old earthquake kit. That's what happened because the alternative is just something that I cannot imagine.
I wonder if those are what's in the letter. I can't imagine what is worse: hearing that your only friend only packed two weeks worth of food for what is likely to be a two month journey or learning that they robbed people's homes to gather two months worth of food for that journey. Both of those could be things that he regretted. Both are things that I don't want to know about.
And I can't ruin what scraps of goodness that I still have.
October 7
They arrived early in the morning when the air was chilly and shrouded in this ominous navy glow. It felt early for all of us, but it was probably not as early as we thought since the sun has been rising later with the onset of autumn.
Dad, Mom, and Mira all answered the door with weapons in their hands, with Dad being the one to turn the knob and greet the new family. But before he did, he shouted, "Stay back. Hands up and away from your pockets. Put all weapons on the floor."
Nott like we could tell if they had any weapons. The air was misty with dust, and barely any light could pierce the thick blue shroud. I could see Dad's fingers fidgeting, and Mom readjusting her grip on the spray bottle, both of them outwardly nervous. I would be too if I was in that situation since it's just hard to see the threat. They had to go off of blind trust, literally.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Dad asked. "We should ask them to wait till daylight."
Mom nodded, and Dad shouted, "Can you wait 'till daylight? It's only in a couple of hours."
"Please," the man managed to choke out between fits of coughing. "We can't wait any longer. The more time that we stay out here, the more likely we're going to get sick, either from the ash or the cold, or killed. I know it's hard to find trust, but I swear on my son's life that we are unarmed."
Dad looked at Mom and shook his head, but Mom responded to him with a shake of her head. Mom looked out from the curtains, but her gaze probably also met the hazy, blue wall that was blinding all of us.
"They might rescind," Mom said. "I can't let this hope for a good future go. We're just going to have a little faith."
Mom reached for the door handle. "I'll open it. It's my idea. If anything goes south, keep the kids safe."
Dad put his hand over hers and took it off, replacing it with his. When Dad opened the door, I could see how he flinched a little bit, expecting a shotgun blast. But there was only eerie silence and a gust of ash and frostbit air that rushed into our home.
"Come closer," Dad said. "And then we can talk."
"We'd prefer to talk inside the house," the woman said.
"No," Mom said, also stepping into the doorframe, looking outside. Between Dad and Mom's figures, I couldn't really see what was happening outside, only the voices of people drifting in, along with little flakes of ash that coated the welcome mat on the inside of my door.
"Then where is the shelter we were promised," the woman added.
"We have access to another home," Mom said. "Completely untouched. Your family will be living there. You will need to provide your own firewood and gather your own water. We will not be giving any food out for free until the solar system is installed and functional."
"We'll still need food to actually survive to build the solar--" the woman protested.
"Cora," the man said. "We'll sort all of this out later."
"Then hand us the keys," Cora said. "And my husband can start working on diagnostics later today."
"We're keeping the keys to the home," Dad said. "The doors can be locked from the inside without keys. As long as one person is at home, there will be no need for keys for locking. Once the solar system is complete, and we know that we can trust each other, I will be handing this to you."
It was a good idea for Mom and Dad to keep the keys. That way we'll always be able to access the Hunters' house, and the family would have a harder time betraying us. I know that it's a bit cynical, and maybe Mom and Dad's beliefs are rubbing on all of us, but it's just so hard and weird to actually be dealing with people. It's like, ideally, I'd put my full trust in them, but when this situation pops up, it's like everything changes. And I can't live the way I want to.
But maybe that's why no one lives through the apocalypse. We only exist before fading away.
"So what now?" Cora said. "Are we going to the house?"
"Yes," Dad said. "My wife and I will be taking you two to the house."
"But there are three of us. I know that it can be hard to see, but my son is also here."
"He'll be staying with us," Mom said. "Just for now. I hope that you can understand why. He'll be joining you once we return safely home."
"How can we trust you?" she replied and turned to Tim. "I don't like this situation, at all."
"You just have to," Mom said. "We've both got a lot to lose and win in this situation. That leap of faith is the only way we can assure that everyone wins."
"Take me instead," Tim counteroffered, but both Mom and Dad shook their heads.
"It has to be your son," Dad said. "It's the only way."
We were at an impasse, as flurries of ash floated inside, like the sparkles of a snow globe. No one said anything more for a solid two or three minutes, Mom and Dad staring down Tim and Cora, who were likely doing the same back. It didn't make sense for us to back down because, well, children made good hostages, and it didn't make sense for them to back down because, well, children are good hostages. It's hard to make any more with your kid in danger.
"I'll do it," a third voice said. "It's alright. I can handle myself."
"No," Cora said. "You are not doing this. We're going to stick together. We're family."
"It's okay," Tim said softly. "He's seventeen. He can handle himself, and taking this deal is the only way we'll be able to stick together as a family. We haven't got the food to survive beyond the next few weeks. It's time that we take our leap of faith."
"If you hurt my son, I swear--"
"As long as no harm comes to both of us," Mom said. "He will be perfectly safe. We'll even prepare some soup for him, a gesture of goodwill."
"Thank you," Tim said.
And then, we made the trade. Mom and Dad left the house as the son entered, as Mira closed the door behind her. For a solid second, we all just stared at each other, Mira, May, and I looking at him and him looking at all of us, his eyes shifting from left to right. No one said a word, maybe because this normally very normal situation felt so abnormal, until the guy stepped forwards and put out his hand.
"I'm Caspian. Nice to meet you all."
Caspian. For some reason that name sounded so familiar. I just can't place where I've heard his name. He wasn't from our school, given that he claimed that he lived in the more northern part of the city, and I think that I'd have noticed him. He looks like the classic jock with the sandy blonde hair cut short and the sapphire eyes. Other than the fact that May was literally blushing when she shook his hand, there was nothing particularly remarkable about him. Still, I feel like I know him from somewhere.
"What's your name?" he asked and reached out a hand.
"Neal," I said and hesitated shaking his hand because mine was dripping with sweat from the stress of meeting someone new. But then he gave me a strange look, so I did a very brief, awkward handshake before pulling away. That felt like too abrupt of an ending, so I added, "It's Caspian, like the sea, right?"
"Yeah," he said with a chuckle that was either bemused or very forced and annoyed. "My parents just loved bodies of water."
May shot me a disgusted look for my awkward comment, and at that moment, I wanted to die from embarrassment. Sometimes, my mouth gets ahead of my mind, and while I usually have that under control to prevent myself from saying anything that I'd regret, lately, I've not been my typical self. But I think, more than that, for just a microsecond, I thought that I was talking with Charles and that he'd respond with how I'm learning from his pun skills, even if my comment wasn't exactly a pun. But Charles is gone, and I don't think I can ever have this rapport with anyone else.
Also thinking about it, for some reason, there was this tinge of sadness at the very end, the unsaid portion of the "us." I don't think Mira or May caught it, and I nearly didn't, but the "us" meant that either they were lying about the number of people in their family or that there was one or more empty chairs at their table. Maybe I'm just projecting my loss onto someone else. I probably am, just to make him more relatable, because right now, I'm finding him a bit grating.
It's not that he's a terrible person, but on the contrary, he's a bit too good of a person, in that he's so sociable and chatty that it's a bit absurd. I know that the constant silence of the world around us can be smothering, as more people disappear or wither away, the plumes of smoke coming from their chimneys turning into a thin trail. But it's like there's just too much noise right now, and it's like I'm back in high school and the old world, my social anxiety flaring up and clenching my jaw shut.
He, May, and Mira really hit it off with each other while I stewed in the corner. I wished that I had my phone with me, so that I'd be able to look down at it and pretend to read news, instead of just awkwardly standing around. Still, I think that it was a good thing that May was the one that was talking with him because man, was she milking information out of him left and right while mixing just enough truth to make her lies seem plausible.
"Where'd you go to school?" she asked.
"We're still focused on school? It's the end of the world, and all we're talking about is that boring life of books and homework."
"Well I want to learn who you were before all of this, mysterious stranger," May responded with a small smile. Was she flirting with him? If so, it takes the cake for most awkward early teen flirting ever.
Caspian smiled a little, revealing his slightly yellowed teeth, fitting with his family's narrative of lacking resources given that they either lost or bartered their toothpaste away. "I'm just from the boring coastal suburbs--"
"Were you from the giant oceanside mansions?" May asked.
"Well, not really," he said. "We weren't from the beachside ones. Ours was a bit more inland."
He kinda drifted off, and I think May understood the implications of what he was saying, that his home was one of the ones that got flooded on the night of the first tsunami tides, when no one had any idea what was happening to us. It didn't seem like he wanted to talk about it, and I don't think it's because he only lost his home. I think they lost a lot more than that.
So May switched topics. "You still haven't answered my question. What school?"
He smiled and leaned forwards. "What school do you think I'm from?"
"Pacifica High," she said. "100%."
"I'm impressed," he said with eyebrows raised. "How'd you know?"
May shrugged. "You're rich and live next to the ocean in the north. There's really only one school up that your parents would actually send you to, and plus, I remember getting completely beaten up by your team's softball team. You guys all have this thing that you do that I'd see anywhere."
"What thing?" he asked.
"You'd know if you went to a public school," May said.
"So you're just going to leave me hanging."
"Go to my high school, and you'll find out."
"Maybe I'll find out what I'm missing," he replied with an all too comfortable smile, like he was integrating right into our family.
We ended up sitting at the dining table, sipping little bits of soup that Mira and Grandma cooked up. Mira and May managed to extract more information from him and his family, like how his mom was a pulmonologist and his dad studied electrical engineering in college and was obsessed with the off-grid lifestyle, despite them being nestled flat in the middle of the sprawling suburbs. Caspian loved playing video games and hated drawing and thought that traffic cone orange is the best color in the world, which he and Mira had a big mini-debate about.
May didn't ask about sports, but I would've. Even though everyone is a bit thin and frail, I could see that he had more muscle on him than the rest of us, the lack of fat making them stand out and defined. I do admit that it reminded me of the guy in the magazine, but unlike that guy, Caspian is a real person, and you can't fantasize over real people because fantasies are based on control, and there's nothing more unpredictable than a real person. Anyways, it's not like I'm fantasizing over him.
Even though it was originally intended for his parents and wasn't supposed to happen today, we also tried springing the trap onto him, but nothing happened (and now May owes Mira five bucks, not like money is worth anything now). May began preparing for the launch of the code-word for the trap (that I didn't mention yesterday to make sure the diary didn't get compromised) when she asked, "You've been to Tahoe, right?"
"All the time," he said. "I love the cold."
"My parents would love you. They loved skiing all the time during winter, even during snowstorms," May replied. "Maybe we should just switch places. I'll take your beachside mansion, and you can take winters at Tahoe."
I didn't hear what he said because I was already dashing out of the room since May said our codeword "snowstorm." I just hung out in the bathroom for an awkward five minutes while Mira and May found random excuses to exit the dining room, leaving him near the cans that we placed on the kitchen counter. They hung out near the doors, pretending to look for something in boxes and containers, but still making sure that he didn't leave the room and start exploring our house and find the actual food stash. Also, we had made sure to eliminate all the knives and other dangerous items from the drawers, so we couldn't be backstabbed, literally.
After what felt like a solid ten minutes, I left the bathroom and went to rejoin him in the dining room kitchen area. He was just sitting there, looking at his fingers, as if he was caught in a trance. If he was Charles, I could've straight up asked what he was looking at, but he's a stranger, and I can't ask those questions. So I just chose to stand around awkwardly until he finally snapped out of it.
"Oh, hey," he said. "Your sisters seem to have vanished. They said that they were looking for some board games to pass the time since our parents are taking forever."
"Yeah," I said. "We organized some stuff around, so I think those probably got lost somewhere."
I think I was supposed to say more because our conversation petered out, and he looked almost uncomfortable in the silence that descended upon us. I was going to try to restart it, maybe with a question, but by the time that I decided to try, it was already too late to revive the conversation. So I just stood there, hanging by the door in awkward silence.
"I wasn't able to find anything," May said, suddenly entering the room. "Everything gets lost in this house. It's one of the things it just does."
He dropped the blank look on his face and began smiling, quipping, "Don't worry. Even my 'rich person' mansion does that all the time."
I guess at that moment, I felt completely humiliated. It's embarrassing how unhappy he was talking with me, and how he perked up as soon as he started talking with May. Even though he never said it out loud, especially given how people like him are always so nice on the surface, I've had enough experience to know when I'm unwanted. So I just left and went to my room to bury myself in a book. Maybe I'm being over dramatic since I haven't talked to a complete stranger my age in forever, so who knows if my mind is making things worse.
Mira knocked on the door before entering. "Mom and Dad came back, and Caspian left. We were calling out your name to say goodbye. May thought that you had died."
I just wanted to bury myself deeper into the book from the embarrassment. I'm so glad for once for the gray skies and muted light because Mira wasn't able to see my cheeks, flushed brightly with red.
"Is this about Charles--"
"No," I said. "It has nothing to do with him."
"You know that you don't need to hold yourself back from a friendship in his name," she said, clearly not believing me. "It's not going to be a betrayal."
"It's not like that," I said. "I just didn't want to be there. It was just too uncomfortable being around that many people."
Mira scrunched up her eyebrows, probably because she was confused when I said "many people" given that Caspian was just one person. But given how much he talked, it's as if he was a whole crowd of people.
"Well, Mom and Dad want to talk with us all," Mira said. "But I can stay if you want to say something more."
I shook my head. While I was walking to the living room, I kept thinking about what Mira said, about me thinking that having another friendship would be a betrayal of Charles. I guess I wasn't lying when I responded to her because I never thought of it that way. Maybe she's right in that I'm scared of having another friendship because I'll start forgetting about Charles quicker, but at the same time, I don't think she's entirely correct. I've just fallen out of practice with making friendships, and I don't think I can do it anymore. Not with the anxiety that paralyzes me.
"We came up with an agreement," Dad said, as we sat on our mattresses. "Fifty cans for setting up the solar system."
"Isn't that a lot," May said. "Like, that's literally a week's worth of food for us."
"They originally wanted 80," Mom said. "We said 30 only. 55 was the compromise, but we managed to keep it lower than that. It's going to be hard, I know. Your father and I will be cutting down to three cans per day shared between the two of us, so we can squeeze a little more from our stocks."
"What about looting?" May asked. "We can get food from those abandoned homes. We don't need to starve every single day until the greenhouse is running."
"That's something your father and I need to discuss more--"
"What's there to discuss? You literally supported looting. We even did that to the Hunters' home, so like, there's actually nothing to talk about," May replied. "I am not going to die because you guys don't want to take things."
"We are not going to die," Mom said. "I support making use of these abandoned resources, but we need to plan this carefully. We need to be safe because we're going to make a lot of enemies when we start doing this: the neighborhood watch, fellow scavengers, families that may be living in seemingly abandoned homes. Once we create a plan, your father and I will start scavenging."
"Well, I'm coming," May announced.
"No," Dad said. "Only your mom and I will be doing this."
"What you guys need are eyes," May responded. "Mom, you are very far-sighted given how you read everything in a size billion font, and Dad, you literally never drive your car in the dark because you have zero night vision. There are no working lightbulbs in these looted homes, so, like, how are you even going to find anything?"
"You're fourteen--" Mom was about to say.
"I'm actually fifteen, but I'm basically eighteen because every single month of the end of the world is like a year," May said. "I can do it, you know."
"We'll think about it," Dad said, which we all knew was synonymous to never going to happen. "But first, we need to sort everything out with the Coopers."
May huffed and sat back in her seat, clearly mad at Mom and Dad. I think she might be resuming her secretive looting, but with the new family being around our house more and Mom and Dad being more wary, I don't think she'll have much of an opportunity. Plus, I can't even cover for her since Mom and Dad literally will never trust a single thing coming out from my mouth.
"Tim is going to be here tomorrow morning," Dad said. "We need to keep an eye on him and make sure that he doesn't snoop around. His son and wife may also come over, so I'll need everyone watching them."
"I'll keep him busy and focused," Dad said and pointed at Mom, Mira, and May. "I'll need you three to take care of his wife. She doesn't trust us at all, so there's a chance she won't come. But she's a loose cannon, and I don't want to risk it."
Then he turned to me. "Neal, you can hang with Caspian."
"I don't want to," I said. "May can do that. I'll just keep a general eye out."
"You need to socialize," Dad said. "And he's your age. I'm sure that you'll have a lot in common."
I think he was trying to make me feel better, but all it seemed like was that he wanted to swap out Charles with Caspian, as if they were the same exact person. Charles understands me, the weird conversations and debates, the inside jokes from middle school, the way that sometimes I struggle to fill the words in the conversation, in a way that I don't think that I'll ever get with Caspian. Unlike Dad, who can just pop into a stranger's party and chat it up with everyone, I just don't have that degree of comfort around strangers.
Looking at this now, I realize that I'm stuck in a paradox. I'll never be able to become comfortable around strangers because I can't talk with them. But because I can't talk to them, I'll never be comfortable around them. It's like a self-reinforcing feedback loop that gets worse and worse.
I thought that I was finally over it, but all my grievances against Dad just flared up again because what if I become friends with Caspian, even when I know that it's not really going to happen, and Dad does the same thing he did with Charles. If he's just going to leave behind anyone who isn't family, then what's the whole point of this?
"Don't try and replace Charles," I said. "Just stop."
"I wasn't--" he said. "I'm just trying to make things better."
"Well, you aren't," I said. "So can you stop trying to make me make friends? I don't want it."
That last sentence was a lie. I do, at some level, want a friend. I know that it's weird, but at times, I hold conversations with myself, imagining what the ideal person for me would say back. Most of the time, I think about having conversations about the mundane, rants about canned food, political hot takes, random bits of trivia that I picked up from the internet. But at times, even though it's dangerous, I think of spilling all my secrets or confessing everything that's on my mind. All the anger, the emptiness, the just hopelessness that just isn't consuming enough for me.
I think it might be because there were actually some good things that happened. I kinda want to take back what I wrote earlier, about no one living through the apocalypse. There were moments that I felt alive, like the glorious few golden flashes of joy when we saw the sun blinking from behind the clouds, and every time that Charles and I worked on our bucket list. But now, neither of those are possible. Barring some unexpected surge in winds, the clouds of ash are likely here to stay, and we finished our bucket list, however imperfect.
I'm tempted to make my own bucket list, just for myself, so that maybe I can find purpose. Right now, I feel like I'm drifting a bit. I want to be doing something. I want to be better. But I just can't because I don't know what I should be doing. At the same time though, I feel like making my own bucket list feels like a retread of an old idea, the sophomore slump or the mediocre single. Even worse, maybe it'll retroactively tarnish all the memories with Charles.
I feel bound to the past. I know that Mira said that I should be giving myself space to help process everything, but I wonder if I'm just digging myself into the rut that I found myself in the beginning. If anything, I have too much time and space for introspection. But at the same time, maybe rut isn't as bad as I'm making it out to be.
Maybe if I dig deep enough, it'll eventually turn into an underground bunker. I'll at least be able to shield the precious few golden memories that I have from the worsening world around me. I don't think anything better is going to arrive in the coming days of the rest of my life.
October 8
"We're going to need many more supplies."
That's what Tim (Or Mr. Cooper, I'm not really sure what to call him) said after spending a couple of hours looking at our solar system. After climbing up onto the roof to check on the solar panel wiring and then going into the garage to examine the wiring along with a bunch of grid boxes, with things like inverters or charge controllers, whatever that means, and then doing that a bunch more times with Dad breathing down his back, he had finally reached a conclusion.
"Will we need to get more panels?" Dad asked. "Given how the ones on our ceiling are dead."
"It's not going to be a top priority. These panels are tough If the solar cells were exposed to the ash directly, they'd be long destroyed, but that's why they've got a thick glass casing," Tim said. "All we need to do is get the ash caked to the glass off, and we should be fine."
"Then what else would we need, outside a some batteries and bit of spare wiring--"
"Too much," Tim said, cutting him off while putting a tired hand to his forehead. "We're going to need spare inverters along with charge controllers to make sure that the system functions properly. PV and copper wiring would also be useful along with extension cords. If we're also going to be investing in serious, long-term storage, we're going to need batteries, stacks of them lining up the garage. The only good news is that we don't need to invest any energy to keep the batteries cold since it's freezing outside."
"Seems impossible," Dad replied, with his threat of "No solar system, no food" hanging in the air remaining unsaid, even though the skepticism in his voice was apparent.
"Not impossible, just tricky," Tim said before pulling out a map from his pocket.
"Where'd you get that?"
"Cora snagged it from a school library," he said. "When we were displaced, we got sent to temporary shelters around the middle school. She grabbed it, and took advantage of the limited cellular connection to mark up some significant locations for us, just in case for the future. I admit that I wasn't in the best mental shape, but it's her quick thinking that saved us."
There was just a bit of the way that his voice caught when he was talking about his mental shape that made me feel like there was more there. It was tinged with sadness, and I think my suspicions were confirmed that their family had lost someone, or multiple someones. I don't know if it's worse than with me losing Charles. Even though they get the finality and relief of closure, they'd know that their loved one died from drowning, struggling to breathe as water flooded their lungs and their limbs got crushed by the crumbling mansions and debris rushing through the water.
He put the map on a worktable, and pointed at a black mark, located around 40 miles north of our city. "That's where we need to go."
"What's there that we'd need to travel so far?" Dad asked.
"We can try our luck at the Home Depots and Lowes and all those camping and construction stores," Tim said. "Or we can go directly down to a solar equipment warehouse and maximize our chances of success."
"Wouldn't it be raided already?" Dad asked.
"Unlikely," Tim said. "It's in the middle of nowhere, just off of a highway. Most people would be focused on getting food or water, not solar panels, especially given how cloudy it is. It's our best opportunity to get as many supplies as possible as efficiently. It's a risk, going out so far, but I think that it'll be worth it."
"I'll think about it," Dad replied, saying the kiss of death to whatever is being suggested mentra, though this time, I think he and Mom are actually going to have a long conversation about it.
Just from a brief glance, this plan has got to be the most high risk, high reward plan that anyone could have come up with. It's going to be extremely dangerous. We'd be stranded far from home in unfamiliar territory, made even more unfamiliar given how communication has been scarce post-Mooncrash, and the world has been transformed by the ashfall and the tidal tsunamis, not to mention the earthquakes. For all we know, the warehouses could be piles of rubble, with batteries leaking toxic material onto the ash being kicked into the air. We'd probably lose a couple years of our lives right on the spot.
But the possibilities are just massive.
We'd have batteries that could run our house for years, and I heard Tim muttering about these things called micro inverters that would mean that our panels would be much more efficient, even during ashstorms. We'd be able to at least cook food on boilerplates and keep the lights on for the greenbox and places like our bathroom, along with being able to afford using the heaters since at some point, the blankets won't be warm enough. It's like our lives would get some of the conveniences of normality back without the future of college and endless internships attached to it.
Caspian also came to our house today, but I mostly ignored him. It's not that I hate him, but it's just that I feel really uncomfortable around him. He has an atmosphere that makes you feel like you're forced to talk, and I'm just not in the mood to talk to a stranger right now. The only conversation that I had with him was mercifully brief (but painfully awkward nonetheless).
"What are you reading?" he asked.
I had a book pulled out, but I wasn't really paying much attention to the words. It was mostly as a way to make it seem like I was busy doing something, so that he wouldn't approach me and make me engage in conversation. But my plan badly backfired, so I put my book down and said, "Fantasy."
"Cool," he said. "Are there any knights or dragons in there?"
"Just magic," I replied.
I have this weird habit when I'm talking to people that I don't know well. Either I go on a long tangent and start rambling and ranting about something or I give the shortest, least wordy response possible, just enough to satisfy the person asking but without all the details that will provoke another conversation. The problem is that the former makes me seem self-obsessed and droning while the latter makes me cold and unintiving, and I can't really find the balance that well. At least, not with people like Caspian.
"Is this like Harry Potter magic or is it like elemental, bending type--"
"Both."
There was a little pause, where I think he wanted me to expand on what I said, but I didn't, and as soon as I thought to, it was too late to do so without making it awkward.
"Well, you seem like you're busy, so I'll see you around," Caspian said before joining up with Mira and May again.
I think they were playing poker or blackjack or some other card game in front of the fireplace. If we were trying to completely optimize our survival chances, all of us would be out in the woods gathering lumber, but I think it's good to have a boost of morale for them, considering how devastating the loss of the sun was.
At the end of the day, May had collected much more information about him, compiled into a long five minute monologue as all of us sat around the fireplace, though much of the information wasn't of particular use. He was outdoorsy and loved visiting Sequoia and Yellowstone National Parks (like either one of those still exists in a recognizable form now). He preferred dogs over cats and never watched Star Wars among other things. It was such a miscellaneous collection of random facts that Mom started giving May a weird look, as if she had lost track of the mission.
"What about sports?" I asked.
"What about sports?" May repeated back at me.
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe that'll be useful to see if he has certain skills."
"Like what?" May asked. "I don't think being very good at throwing footballs or shooting hoops really helps with anything."
"Whatever," I muttered. "I don't even know where I was going with this."
However, there were a few little gems of information that proved useful. Caspian was an awful liar, given how he got crushed in bluffing games like poker and BS, but had quick reflexes. He was able to go toe-and-toe with her during games like speed and slap jack, which was impressive since May is the queen of those card games. It's amazing how much information you can get from just a couple hours of playing cards if you pay attention.
"Do you think that we can trust him?" Mom asked.
"I do," May said.
Mom gave her a stern look. "Are you sure? I know boys like him, with their pretty smiles and nice words, are very good at, especially with people your age--"
"Geez, Mom. You think that I'm that shallow?" May asked. "Of course I don't fully trust him. That's dumb and stupid. But I'm saying that we can get whatever we want from him pretty easily."
"Good," Mom said with an approving nod. "But just to make sure, there is nothing going on--"
"Oh. My. God," May said. "Stop talking about my non-existent love life. Sure, he's cute and all, but I'm not thinking of having his babies--"
"Okay, that's enough," Dad said, cutting May off because he's very sensitive when it comes to talking about all these very birds and bees kind of stuff. "Your mom and I have a lot to discuss, but I think we want to get your input on it."
That last part seemed extremely forced, and it seemed like Dad was saying that because Mom was giving him a very stern look. I don't think that Mom would want all of us to weigh in on an issue if most of us were against it, but in this case, we were all, for the most part, supportive of working with the Coopers. She's very ruthless when it comes to winning these types of arguments. I think that's why her employees were kind of scared of her at work.
"Well we should obviously do it," May said. "Like this is literally a tiny risk, really high reward thing, so I literally don't see why we shouldn't do it."
"Plus," she added. "We could always backstab them later on and not give them the food once we get the solar panels all set up."
"But what about Caspian?" I asked.
"Just because he's hot doesn't mean I'm going to sacrifice my life," May replied. "Yeah, that's selfish or whatever, but like who would even do that?"
"Anyways, we're not going to be backstabbing anyone," Mira said. "We're going to be building a community. If the Coopers are trustworthy, maybe we've got a shot at making everything run together and make sure that we all make it through the winter. I think that it's a risk that we should take and one that can help so many more people that aren't just us."
"I'm also volunteering to go--" Mira was going to add before she was cut off by Mom.
"We're going to decide who's going tomorrow," Mom said. "Right now, what we need is a good night's rest for tomorrow's wood and water gathering."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Dad said to Mom before turning to me, as if I was going to support him strongly. "What about you, Neal?"
"I think that we should do it," I said. "It's what Charles would've wanted."
I feel guilty for my reasoning, like I was just throwing around Charles name as a cheap, emotional weapon that cut especially deep when it was aimed at Dad. I knew that I shouldn't have done that, but there was this momentary sense of pleasure, a taste of the forbidden drink of vengeance, that felt so nice. But as soon as that came out my mouth, the whole mood dampened, with no one really knowing what to say, and I immediately regretted it. I guess it's just another moment when my brain and words were out of synch, the subconscious thoughts slipping off my tongue.
But also, I don't know if that's actually what Charles would want our family to do. I'd imagine so because the Charles I know would agree with me (and maybe even be a little proud of me for actually staking out an opinion since I always say "I don't know"), but there was a lot about Charles that I didn't know, like the version of him that broke into the houses and took food to survive.
Well, actually I don't know if he did that, even if the probability is close to a hundred. If this was a movie, I'd write this on a note, roll this up in a bottle, and chuck it into the churning waves. Somehow, that bottle would bob down the coast of California and Central America before crossing the Panama Canal, and tracing the coast again before landing on some beach in Texas. He'd be there and write a note back before tossing the bottle back into the sea, making its way right back to me, maybe when I'm gathering kelp or something. But then again, if this could actually happen, I wouldn't waste it on asking about this trivial question.
I don't know what I'd say though. There's just too much to cram onto one note. I'd want to know how he and his family are doing, but that question feels too generic and trivial, even if it's so important. Maybe I'd ask how watching anime all day and eating steak and fried chicken for every meal is like because everything turned out well. Maybe I'd tell him that I still believe that axes are better than swords until my last breaths. But those two are too light-hearted for something that'll be in a once in a lifetime note, carried upon the mystical waters of belief and luck.
I guess what I'd tell him is that I'm sorry that I couldn't open up the letter because I was too scared of losing the version of him in my mind. If he wanted to tell me all of his regrets and everything terrible he wanted to confess, he'd have to tell me in front of my face so that he'd know that I forgive him. I don't want him to die thinking that I hate him for whatever terrible things he might have done to survive.
But most of all, I'd tell him that I love him. He was the best friend that I could ever have had.
October 9
"We're going to do it," Dad said. "Your mom and I talked about it when we were gathering wood, and we decided that it would be the best option. We've already informed Tim and his family about it."
There was a bit of stunned silence in the room since no one expected Dad to agree with it. He added, "Your mom is going to need one of you to come with her. I don't like this, but we need to be able to overpower Tim in case things go wrong. Two people are always better than one, just in case the worst happens."
"Well, I'm going," May announced, standing up and radiating with newfound energy.
"I thought you were too tired to move anymore," I said, and she glared at me with her arms crossed. But, as expected, she quickly sat down, flopping against the chair, as her muscles gave out from the exhaustion of carrying buckets of water today.
"I won't be tomorrow," May replied before turning to Mom and Dad. "I have the best eyesight, so I'll actually be able to see things that we need to get. Plus, I am the only person that has literally been stuck in the house the whole time--"
"What about the trip to your friend?" Mom asked. "Not the birthday party but the one after the volcanoes."
"What are you talking about? I think you need your memory--" May said before pausing and remembering that fake trip she made up so we could scout the Hunters' home. "Oh, yeah. Well that doesn't really count because Neal saw Charles five hundred billion times and same thing with Mira and Leon, so compared to them, I have literally been trapped here. So I deserve to go out."
"Good try," Dad said. "But no. You're too young."
"I'm literally fifteen," May said. "And Mom said that we celebrated by sweet sixteen early--"
"You rejected that," Mom interjected.
"Well, I'll take it back, okay," May replied with a huff. "And you said that I could go out when I saw old enough to drive a car, so yeah--"
"May, it's a no," Mom replied with the authoritative voice that she does when the conversation has been closed for good. May knew that her hopes of escaping the walls enclosing her had been dashed.
"I'll go then," Mira said. "I know how to handle a gun, and the world out there could be dangerous, especially with this new ashstorm making people more scared of starvation. I'll be able to protect you guys and maybe even find new allies--"
"We're going to need you here," Dad said. "We need you to keep ourselves safe."
"Ourselves and the Coopers and the rest of the community," Mira replied. "And we should be looking for friends. Look how it turned out with the Coopers. We stumbled upon people are going to help solve--"
"They haven't done anything yet," Dad said, cutting Mira off. "It's too early to dream so far. And I don't want to be taking in so many people when we haven't even gotten a stable food supply yet."
This looked like it was going to escalate into an argument, Dad promoting his very selfish and pragmatic ideology while Mira leaned more into hope and selflessness during these dark times. It's like the two sides of the coin, completely opposing views somehow merging into one unified wish to maintain your sense of humanity, yet never able to see the other's perspective. Luckily, Mom stepped in to dampen Mira's hopes of joining the trip less aggressively. "Don't you have the night watch? You should continue on their schedule, especially in times like now when distrust is running high. We'll need all the trust and friends we can now."
"I can skip it--" Mira said but then gave up the argument with a loud sigh. Sometimes, her own selflessness is weaponized against her.
May stood up then. "If you're going to keep rejecting literally every single one of us, then what is the point of even asking us to do this."
"We're assessing all of our options before we make a choice," Mom said. "There's so many factors--"
"I'll do it," I said.
I was honestly shocked that I said that. The Old Neal wouldn't have risked his life going on a dangerous mission through bandit infested territory, a decision that he would've derided as "zombie movie stupid." What he would've done was hole up at home and let others put their lives on the line while he supported them behind the scenes, never too close to the conflict to get burned. He'd never be able to muster enough courage (or stupidity or ego or teenage rebellion angst) to actually take that step forwards (or backwards. It's hard to decipher which is which in this scenario).
I wanted to take that back right away and offer it to May, who was just salivating to show her house looting skills that she developed through trial and error. Or Mira since she had the people skills to secure allies along the way that'll help build the community she's envisioning. I was the least qualified to go on this journey, and they deserved to go on this journey more than me. It's something that they deserve for what they sacrificed for me. I was about to take what I said back when Mom opened her mouth.
"Are you sure?" Mom asked. "This isn't because of Charles--"
"I want to do it," I said, shocking myself the second time. This time I was sure that my decision wasn't based on heroics or finding the inner something in me that constituted bravery. It was just a hasty decision to do the opposite of what Mom and Dad wanted me to do. Sometimes, I'm immature and petty, and I immediately regretted it after seeing a flash of anger on May's face and the slight sigh of disappointment on Mira's breath that she attempted to hide.
"Okay," Mom said. "Then it's settled."
"What?" May exclaimed. "Why did you not interrogate Neal?"
"He's the only one that can go with me," Mom said. "Everyone has responsibilities back here. Your dad will also be staying back to make sure that everything runs fine."
"Dad, you're actually okay with this?" May asked.
"It's not ideal, but I'm going to support my wife," Dad said and looked at Mom with a thin smile.
I joined Mira and May's furrowed eyebrows because I felt like something was definitely going on. But I didn't question it because I just had to get out of here. With Charles gone, I don't have any excuses to escape the suffocation of family, and doing this journey will at least give me just the smallest break, even if I have to deal with Mom's probing questioning.
I just need space to breathe and maybe even find a sense of peace within myself and with everyone around myself.
October 10
It's not fair. Dad just has to mess everything up.
"Hey son," Dad said to me in the morning as I was packing for the trip, filling up metal water bottles and looking for miscellaneous supplies that we may need, like scissors for cutting string or rope (or poking someone's eyeballs out). I didn't really want to talk with him because I felt like I was going to say something that would make everything worse.
"What?" I asked, mustering up the most curt response that I could think of.
"Your mom isn't coming on the trip," Dad said. "We were thinking about it last night, and we decided that it would be better for her to stay behind since Cora's staying behind. They might be able to bond better, and we'll be able to learn more about them. So I'll be going instead."
"What?!" I exclaimed because all the things that I had anticipated, this never appeared in my radar. Mom was always so set on her plans, and Dad was so against this plan that I guess I never really thought of the possibility of Mom swapping out with Dad so that I'd be forced to sit through a couple day journey with him.
Dad was beaming and was so proud of pulling off this trick. The more paranoid part of me is telling me that swapping with Mom was the original plan the whole time, maybe even the precondition for him agreeing to this plan, which could explain why she quickly shot down May and Mira's efforts to volunteer. Despite the joy radiating from him, I was furious at Dad because he just kept on messing things up.
All of this is just a ploy to make everything seem fine and normal again, to pretend that everything is normal, when it's far from that. I know that I'm supposed to have reached a peace agreement with Dad, but I still can't forgive him for making Charles leave. I know that it's irrational to believe that Charles was going to stay forever because his family's resources were next to nothing, but at the very least, I could've planned something out. Maybe Mira could've helped me forge a plan to have his family work for us for food, just like the Coopers are doing right now. I know that this wouldn't be the best existence, and it might've made things a bit awkward, but it would be survival and that's the best we can hope for.
But Dad just had to lose his temper and screw everything up. And I think he knows that more and more every passing day because beneath his oddly sunny demeanor and that smile plastered on his face, he knew that everything wasn't alright and that whatever happiness he was trying to generate in me wouldn't work.
It's at that moment that I wanted to pull out. I was so tempted to do so that the words nearly slipped out from my mouth to let May go grab some solar panels. There were even bonus points in that Dad would most definitely not support this, thus annoying him anymore. I know that sounds petty and that I should be trying to survive the oncoming winter instead of scoring cheap points, but sometimes, it's hard to look past the next moment. The future is just too bleak to think too hard about.
But I stopped myself, and when Dad asked for my followup to his revelation, I said, "Whatever. I have to pack things."
Then Dad left, probably proud of himself and thinking that we've just made up, even though these scars run deeper than my words. He thinks that I'm okay with the swap because I've completely forgiven him, but to be honest, the truth is a bit different.
I guess the main reason that I chose to stay was that I need to know what the landscape Charles is passing through is like, what this changed word beyond these four walls entrapping me looks like. I need to reassure myself that the world isn't so bad out there because that's the only way that he and his family could've made it. Maybe there are good people out there, helping people on their journeys to the South. I know that Leon's letter said that the towns were burning and that danger roamed the landscape, but maybe that's just for his path and not for Charles' one. After all, Leon didn't have the power of a coin-toss wish with him.
But still, I need to know what the world out there is like. Are there blockades of cars, rusting and crumbling along the veins of freeways coursing throughout the landscape? Are there groups of roving bandits that have sacrificed all their morals, just leaning into the nihilistic and cynical view that they have to stoop down to the level of the world? I'd hope not. Leon's letter did mention that he joined a caravan of people working together to walk all the way across Southern California and Arizona to make it to New Mexico. But with the weather cooling down, I wonder if their path has frozen over and that people have turned on each other Donner Party style.
But most of all, I just want to know that he survived. I want all my wishes to be true so that there's at least a little bit of hope in the world for things to turn out all right. I don't know exactly what all right would look like, but I know that Charles surviving is an important part of it.
So I guess I did this for Charles. But I guess I did this for myself too. And maybe I did a little bit of this for Dad so that I could be there to show him that the world we live in isn't as manipulative and cynical as he wants to believe. So he'll take back what he said about Charles.
After I managed to gather all of the essentials, Mom had a go with my backpack to actually make sure that everything was packed. It turns out that I still have to brush my teeth, even during the end of the world, because she added a toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste. Also, a sleeping bag just in case we were forced to stay overnight, three matches to make a fire and a bit of fire gel even though Dad also had those since redundancies are important, and an ancient looking pocket knife that had partially rusted because it had been stored under the sink since forever. She also added one of those fancy air masks, but I took it out when she wasn't looking. We would need it sometime in the future.
When we were eating dinner, none of us talked that much. Even though this was supposed to be a moment of hope, the silence was sobering, the risks of the expedition finally creeping in, hot coffee to the drunk high of the futures of our mind.
"I think we should resume the gratitude session," Dad said. "Just for today, so that we don't leave anything unsaid."
"Do you want to die?" May asked. "We did the gratitude thing and guess what happened, an earthquake that ruined everything."
"I think that happened the week we skipped gratitude day," Dad said and then cleared his throat. "I'll go first."
He stood up and clinked his glass, as if he was going to toast or make an overly long speech. "I'm grateful for this opportunity--"
"Says the person who tried to stop is as much as possible," May grumbled but Dad ignored her.
"I know that I've opposed it," Dad said. "And I'm still not sure, but I'm going to try to change for you guys. I want a better future for all of us, and I hope that, on this trip, we'll find everything we need to repair what we have right now with us."
"I'll second this," Mom said and looked at Dad warmly, something that I hadn't seen in a while because they're always bickering. "I'm grateful that you're trying for all of us, even if that takes a lot of convincing because you're so damn stubborn."
Dad blushed a little bit and motioned for the rest of us to answer as the iciness of the dining table began melting a bit. May stood up and clanged her and my empty bowls of soup together, our spoons clanging inside.
"I don't have anything to be grateful about right now," she said, and Mom gave a bit of a disapproving stare. "It's more of a future thing. I will be grateful if the universe returns Neal home because I will die in science classes when we have to learn about the moon in the future. As for Dad, do your worst, universe. I'm only here for the life insurance money, if that's still a thing."
I think that last line was supposed to be a joke, but the most laughter we got were a couple of nervous chuckles from Mom and a forced burst of laughter from Dad, who was doing his best to rebuild all the bridges that he had burned. May sighed and sat down onto the chair. "Only Caspian gets my jokes."
"Is he coming?" I asked Mom and Dad.
"I don't think so," Dad said. "It's just supposed to be me, you, and Tim."
"Okay," I replied, and then, everyone looked at Mira, who was next in line for gratitude sharing.
She stood up. "Well, I'm grateful for a safe trip. I know that it hasn't started yet, but if we wish for a good outcome right now, it'll actually happen. It's something that we've got to hope for."
"That's the spirit," Dad said a little too jovially, given how he exploded on us two weeks ago. "We're going to make it."
I don't know if Dad really believes this. Actually, I know that he doesn't believe in this because I don't really either. I want to believe in this, and maybe if I want it enough, I'll believe it. But no matter how hard I try to, there's always this hesitation, one that's growing inside me every day ever since Charles left. Maybe we'll survive, but we, the people who we are and everything surrounding us right now, are going to be gone, buried under the layers of dust and ash piling against our walls.
Everyone turned towards me after Mira sat down. There was a long moment of silence as I thought of the most honest, yet the most safe answer possible, and in the end, I just used my default response.
"I don't really know yet," I said. "Maybe after the trip."
"Okay," Dad said after a pause before looking at the non-existent watch on his wrist. "It's going to be an early day tomorrow, so let's get all the sleep that we can. Mira, you'll be taking Neal's fire watching shift"
Even though the atmosphere had lightened up, I think my response made everything more somber. While everyone went to brush, I went to my room to search through the stack of old papers that Mom and Dad made me sort into the burn pile. When May mentioned Caspian while we were doing our gratitude list, I had a flash of a memory, where I remembered seeing his face on one of the school magazines. I don't know why I'm obsessing over this so much when I could just ask him. But that seems too intimidating.
While I was shuffling through the papers, Mira came into the room after knocking on the door lightly.
"What are you looking for?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said, an answer that hovered between the truth and lie.
"If you're looking for something that you made with Charles, you might have more luck with the boxes in the basement with all your elementary school stuff," Mira said as I stood up.
I shrugged. "What-- What was the world like when you went to look for Leon?"
"Chaotic," she said. "There were refugee camps everywhere, especially in the low lying urban areas. Traffic was really bad, with detours and signs pointing in every direction, and the air just stank of salt. I'm not sure if this is really helpful. The world is a lot more empty now."
"Yeah..." I said and an awkward silence settled into the room.
"Do you have any last things to say?" Mira asked before I gave her a strange look. "I didn't mean to say it like--"
"I'm going to die," I said, finishing her sentence. "It's not going to happen."
"I just don't want you to have the same regrets you're facing with Charles," she said.
I didn't really say much for a few moments. I guess at that moment, I realized that I was on the opposite side. Instead of being the person left behind, I'm the one doing the leaving. I know that seems obvious, but I finally got a taste of what it feels like to be in Charles' feet, to be the person leaving everything behind, even if it's just for a second. To be able to see the people you're leaving behind and decide how they'd view you when you're gone.
But the difference is that I know that I'm coming back, and Charles is gone forever. So I've still got time for all the emotional confessions that Mira is looking for and find more confidence in doing so. There's still a chance that I'm not going to make it back, but there's still a chance that I'll be able to, and I can't stand the idea that whatever I say now will forever change the way she sees me and that I'll have to face that every day.
"Promise to tutor May about the moon if I don't come back?"
"That's it?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said with the least inconspicuous shrug. "I'm going to be fine."
"Okay," she said. "I promise."
"Good," I said and bunched up all the papers that I was looking through into a plastic bin. "I guess I'll go to sleep now."
But just before I could leave, Mira gave me a hug. When I hugged her back, it was weird how much it hurt, our bodies turning into jagged edges as our skin clung closer to bone. I know that it was supposed to be reassuring, but all it did was remind me of the stakes. We couldn't fail.
After I brushed my teeth, I didn't go to sleep directly since I'm still up writing. I was going to do this entry tomorrow, but I really couldn't sleep, and with Mira kinda dozing off intermittently during my fire watch, staying up is probably the smartest idea. After spending all late afternoon on the gun patrol, I'm not surprised that she's tempted to fall asleep, especially given how we've just been scraping by with soup. I'm almost tempted to rip open the pantry to gorge myself, but I know I couldn't do that to Mom and Mira and May and even Dad.
I guess, thinking about it now, I think I've figured out what I'm grateful for. It's the same thing as May, where it's something in the future. When I go out into this ash shrouded world, I just hope that there will be a path of safety illuminating through the fog of gray that clings close to the ground and fills our lungs with death. I hope that if I could follow his footsteps carved into the ash, my boots fitting in the imprints of his shoes, that I'll find a journey so easy that we'll have a laugh about how we panicked about it. Even though I know that I'm never going to find the exact path that he took, I just hope that whatever I see out there is representative of his conditions.
I just don't want whatever he wrote in the letter, probably terrible confessions and things he's too ashamed to tell me, to be the last thing that I'll hear from Charles. There has to be more, and he has to be alive.
Nothing is worse than holding onto a corrupted memory.