What Comes After

August 2

It was pretty cold this morning, and the sky was dark like usual. It always seems to fluctuate between various shades of gray, and nothing more. No blues or anything. Just plain, dark gray skies every single day.

None of us had much energy after yesterday. Mira tried to wake Leon up, but he shrugged her off and went back to sleep, so they put off going to the library. Mom woke up sometime around noon and went to the garage to tinker with the lights and plants. Grandma and Grandpa were in their room, reading the Chinese Bible or something.

"I'm going to the garden today," I shouted to Mom in the garage.

"Be safe and come back in an hour," she replied.

"You don't need to keep reminding me of that. I already know."

"I'm your mother," she shouted back. "This is what I do."

I put on an air mask and walked outside. The wind whipped up browned leaves and the sky looked like it was going to weep, not raindrops but ashy snowflakes. The smell of brine was strong in the air, and I could hear the faint roars of crashing waves.

Everything was just empty. It felt like no one lives here anymore, and everyone has moved on to better places down south, not the Deep South, but places like Texas and New Mexico. The abandoned houses felt like monuments from a distant past, even though the Mooncrash only happened three months back.

I opened the gate for the garden and immediately noticed that something was wrong.

The wire-fencing surrounding the garden had a wide gash in it and was torn open. The plants were scattered around, some leaves on the ground torn and ripped. I moved closer to the raised beds of crops. There were big holes in the ground where the tomato and zucchini plants used to be. Someone must've ripped out all these plants and just taken them. But they didn't need to rip out all the other plants or tear their leaves and prevent me from reviving them.

I don't know why, but I decided to go to Charles' house to see if he knew about what happened. Snow began to fall down from the sky, I wasn't sure if it was ash snow or real snow, the kind I only see when we go to Lake Tahoe in the winter. But when I reached out to touch one of the flakes, it lingered on the tip of my finger, a dark smudging on my skin.

I adjusted my mask, making sure that it fully covered my nose, and picked up the pace. Mom would kill me if she found out that I didn't head home immediately when the ashfall started, but I had to let Charles know.

I turned a corner and walked down Charles' street. Pure silence greeted me, even when I stood in front of his house. It's like if I didn't know he lived there, I would think his house was abandoned. I stepped in front of his doorway and nearly rang the bell before I realized that the doorbell wouldn't work without electricity.

When I knocked on the door, there was no response at first. I thought I was at the wrong house or maybe I was hallucinating and just knocked on some random door or something. But then I heard this flurry of movement. Heavy footsteps on the ground and a clink of metal before some muffled shouting. "It's Neal, Mom and Dad."

Charles opened the door. His parents were behind him, giving me a weak smile. They all looked pretty bad with bags around their eyes and thinner faces. One can a day for one or two months must've been awful. I can't even imagine what they were going through.

"Is this a bad time?" I asked. "I can come back later if you want."

"We can talk outside," he said and stepped outside.

"Don't you need your mask?"

"We're only going to be out here for a couple minutes, right?" he asked. "Unless you're going to give me a whole lecture about something."

"When have I ever given out lectures?" I asked.

"Remember that time when we were arguing about axes and swords and gave me a whole lecture about how the rise of armored knights led to the rise in axe usage?"

"How could I forget?" I replied and chuckled softly. "Axes are still better than swords."

"I see time hasn't made you any smarter. But someday, you'll see the light," he said and sat down on a bench on his porch. "So what urgent thing did you come to see me about?"

"Did you hear about—"

"The garden?" he asked, and I nodded. "Yeah. I saw it yesterday."

"What happened?"

"Someone must've broken into the garden," he said. "The gate never had any lock on it, so thinking about it now, it was only a matter of time before someone found out what we were growing."

"But what about the torn fencing? Who would tear down the fence protecting the garden?"

"Who knows?" Charles said and sighed. "Someone could've done it just because they wanted too, and since it feels like the end of the world, why not? Maybe a deer or something broke it down. I don't know."

"All I know is that when the fence came down," he said. "The rabbits came in and ate anything that was left, and by the time I reached the garden, everything was torn to shreds."

"You salvage anything?" I asked.

"A couple of onions and garlic," he said. "All the tomatoes and zucchinis were gone. You want some? I know we were supposed to split them in half."

"Keep them," I said. "Your family would need it more than mine."

We sat there in silence. The powdery ash floated through the air like dainty snowflakes, smearing my world with a whitish gray. I stood up.

"My parents are going to kill me if I don't get home soon," I said and turned to face him as I walked away. "If you need anything, you tell me. I'll still see you on Fridays in the garden."

He nodded and waved at me. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

I hustled home, hoping that Mom wouldn't kill me for staying out during an ashfall. Another volcano up north must've erupted. It's been a month after the initial wave of eruptions, and there are no signs that the volcanoes are going to stop. Is this what life is going to be like from now on? Tinted with shades of gray and hunger.

When I opened the door, Mom pounced onto me. "What were you doing out there during the ash storm? You could've gotten seriously hurt."

"I didn't know that it was that bad," I lied.

"Look outside," she said. "It's snowing flurries of ash. Your father and I are going to have to scrape ash off the rooftop tomorrow."

"I didn't see any ash in the garden," I lied. "It's kinda like rain. Some places get really hard rainfall while other places that are also pretty close by don't get a lot of rainfall even though the storm is above both places. It has to do with the raindrop density—"

"Just be careful," Mom said. "I want you to have some freedom since we're all crammed together in the house, but I don't want you to get hurt."

I'm such a liar. I knowingly put myself in danger and scared Mom, and then lied to her about it. I'm such a terrible person.

August 3

Mira and Dad argued today. The flurries of ash just keep piling up, and it feels like the sun will never reappear again.

Mira and Leon asked Mom and Dad about the whole family leaving for New Mexico, and it went about as well as I had expected it to go.

"So, Mom," Mira said and leaned against the table. "Leon and I have been talking, and we think it would be best if everyone comes to where he's going."

"We can't leave," Mom said.

"The South is going to be better," Leon said. "There's fuel and the sky is clearer and the weather is going to be warmer."

"Look, I don't know about moving," Mom said. "Especially all of us. It's risky and look at the weather outside. This is what we're all going to drive in for two hundred, three hundred miles until we reach New Mexico."

"Mom, I get you're worried," Mira replied. "But look at the world around us. The volcanoes are erupting harder, and the weather is getting colder and colder. This might be our only chance to go to better places."

"How is this even going to work?" Mom asked. "We can't fit everyone into the car, and it's not going to be safe traveling around with so many people."

"Mira and I can head out first. And my family will be able to pick up you all once I reach them," he said. "We've got plenty of food and enough fuel to make it to New Mexico."

As Leon was speaking, Dad entered the room, and this was when everything exploded. "What's this talk about all of us leaving?!"

"Leon and—"

"No," Dad said. "We're all not going to leave."

"But the weather—" Leon said.

"But what if the weather isn't warmer down south," Dad said. "What if the oil rigs and natural gas processing centers got shut down by the ashfall? There has been radio silence for a month now, and we don't know what the conditions are there."

"The rumors—" Leon said again before being cut off.

"Rumors!" Dad exclaimed. "You're justifying moving all of us down based on a rumor. Maybe the rumors are true. Maybe the conditions down there are great and there's plenty of food and water and fuel to go around. Then everyone would be down there, and they'd have to remove people, and everyone who is removed would starve or freeze to death."

"My family has got a house in New Mexico," Leon said. "We'd be guaranteed an entry into New Mexico."

"Okay," Dad said. "But maybe the rumors are all wrong. Maybe the South has become a frozen wasteland with everyone fighting over whatever resources are left. Then what are we all going to do."

"We have to hope, Dad," Mira said. "We have to hope that conditions are better down there. We can't be this hopeless and cynical."

"What you have isn't hope," Dad said. "It's a delusion. Pure and simple delusion. I have hope. I do believe that the world will become better again someday in the future, but I'm realistic, and you both cannot keep holding onto these delusional fantasies."

"So what?" Mira spat out. "Let's say we stay here, and then what? It's the middle of August and the temperatures are getting closer and closer to freezing every day. By the time winter comes, temperatures might be below zero, and we'll be stuck here, and we'll all freeze to death. Is that what you want?"

"The government is more likely to fix things by the time winter comes than our chances of making it to the South and there being some haven down there."

"How is the government going to fix everything?" Mira said. "Look at the world around us. If the government can't help us now, then what makes you think we're going to get help when things get worse."

"What makes you think that the South will be any better?"

Both of their arguments hit a brick wall. I still don't know who I'd agree with more. Dad did make a good point about New Mexico and the South. We just don't know what the conditions are like down there. For all we know, the South could be having the same problems as us, covered in ash and slowly freezing. But at the same time, I don't know how long we're going to be able to stay here. One day, we're going to run out of food, and then what? We'll be trapped in this town until the day we starve to death.

Mom stepped in between Dad and Mira during the break in the argument to try to end this fight before it got any more heated. Mira was glaring daggers at Dad and Dad looked like a volcano about to erupt.

"You guys can stop arguing now," Mom said.

"Don't listen to Mom," May said. "Keep arguing. This is the most entertainment I've had in days."

"May," Mom said and put on her stern face. "Not right now."

"What?" she said and shrugged. "I'm just trying to reverse psychology them into not arguing."

"There's a better time and place and, especially, tone for this discussion," Mom said. "Yelling at each other in the living room is not an appropriate way to discuss this."

"As for what you two have been yelling at each other about, I'd have to agree with your father here, Mira," Mom said. "It's just too risky for all of us to go to the South."

"So it's alright if I go and die in the South?" Mira asked. "That's alright with you guys."

"You know that's not what I meant," Mom said. "You're an adult, and you can make the best decisions for yourself. But Neal and May are still kids, and my parents won't be able to travel well, and they are our responsibility, and right now, the best option for us is to stay and hope things will get better."

That was a pretty skillful deconstruction of an argument. Mira and Dad didn't yell at each other for the rest of the day, but you could see the tension in the air. Mira wouldn't even sit in the same room with Dad, and neither would Dad. During dinner, both of them went to their rooms and ate dinner apart from each other. Leon joined Mira in the room, leaving me, Mom, and May just awkwardly eating mushy corn.

I think Mira is going to leave. It makes sense for her to leave us all behind. She's an adult now. It's time for her to open her wings and fly to better places with the person she loves. There's no way that Leon would come to our house and propose to her if they didn't share that connection.