The mountains really are colder, but I came prepared. I tighten my grip on the ends of the sleeves of my thick sweater as I follow Ava, her ponytail bouncing with every step.
It's not a massive crowd, but it's not tiny either – at least fifty people are scattered around the compound – building, talking, helping.
My head is buzzing. To go from being alone for years to surrounded by strangers has left me dazed.
"I'm guessing you're hungry," Ava says, turning around. "I'll take you to our... quasi-picnic area. We don't really have a system yet. Like I said – work in progress. Have a seat."
It's an old broken down bench made of stripped wood, but I'm not complaining. Ava promises to be back soon, and when she is, I'm seated and digging into stew. It's thick and mushy and delicious.
I've gotten used to sharing all my food with Boy, but there's no dog to feed and cuddle, and every time I'm reminded of that, it hurts a little bit more.
"Thank you," I say, tending to my empty stomach.
"Where'd you come in from?" she asks.
"Close to San Diego," I answer.
"No kidding. I was in Fairfield." I pause, holding my metal spoon tightly.
"Wow."
"Yeah. That always gets that reaction." I nod, knowing full well Fairfield was the eye of the storm.
"How'd you end up here?" I ask.
"That guy on the radio? He was part of our original colony. We lived underground and he went on this huge ass adventure... he tells it better than I do." Her mouth quirks up in a smile. "But anyways, it got him all inspired and he sent out that broadcast, as you know and... here we are. Not too bad, is it?"
I look around to see the small community that all the survivors have made for themselves. It's new, but it seems like everybody has gotten into their role already. It seems... happy.
But I'm not an idiot. I know peace doesn't last.
I can't tell Ava that, though. She seems sweet. Excited, even. And maybe I'm doing her a disservice by not warning her that people are only ever looking out for themselves, but I can't bring myself to dampen her spirits.
"It's really nice," I say honestly. "And... I appreciate you welcoming me in like this."
"The more, the merrier," Ava says. "Plus, once you get settled in, I'm sure you'll be helping, too. Everyone here helps in their own way."
"I will," I promise, already picturing myself helping gather food, putting together tools, sharing what I've learned.
I know I've been doing a poor job for myself lately with my absentmindedness, but maybe this is what I need. Other people relying on me now that I've lost Boy. Only temporarily, I tell myself. He has to be out there still. He has to be okay.
I don't know how long I'll be here, how long I'll last, but I know one thing: I'm no freeloader.
"There's a lot of room here," Ava says. "We've built some sleeping quarters over there. Temporary, until the underground shelter is done." She turns her head and points to a few big tent-like structures, grouped together.
I clear my throat.
"I can hunt," I say. "I can help build the underground shelter, too. I can teach, even. Anything you need."
Ava nods and smiles, as if to silently tell me I've already proven my worth.
"I should get back to work," she says. "Let me know if I can help with anything else, but feel free to explore. Make yourself at home, okay?"
I nod and force a smile, and when she leaves, the sudden loss of companionship makes the hole in my chest reopen.
I scrape the last of my stew and when I stand, my tired legs shake beneath me. I find a makeshift sink to rinse my dishes and ask a man where to put them. Once I've placed them in a neat pile with other bowls as he's told me, I go towards the collection of tents that Ava had called the sleeping quarters.
The sun is hanging low, and will sink below the horizon in at least an hour.
There aren't many people in the tent, nylon draped over wooden posts. I see an unoccupied space near one of the posts and kneel down, noticing a young girl sitting on a sleeping bag, playing what seems to be solitaire with a pack of ripped up playing cards.
Her eyes curiously peek through her scraggly hair as I begin to empty my backpack.
"You're new," she states.
"I am." I say. "How long you been here?"
"Since the beginning," she replies vaguely.
"What's it like?"
"Not as boring as I thought," she tells me.
"You cool with me setting up here?" I ask, slowly pulling out my quilt.
"Yeah," she says. "What's your name?"
"I'm Nora," I say. "Yours?"
"Minnow."
I can't remember the last time I've seen a kid since this whole thing started, and I think the last one I ever spoke to was my little cousin at my aunt's wedding. That was two full weeks before the world began to end. I think everyone at that wedding is gone now.
There's nothing fair about an apocalypse, but it stings sharper when I think about the kids that had no choice but to grow up in this. To be raised in fear of giant lizards. Kids like Minnow. Kids that are surely afraid, on edge, and neurotic. I swallow the lump in my throat.
"That's a nice name," I say.
"You don't look like a Nora," Minnow says. I half-chuckle. "Is it short for something?"
"Yeah."
"What?"
"Honora," I say without thinking.
"I'm gonna call you Honora."
For a kid raised in an apocalypse, she doesn't seem neurotic at all. I guess you can't afford to be in this world.
I want to tell her: no, please don't call me that. My parents called me that, and I can't bring myself to think about them. But I decide to give her a pass.
"Okay, but you're the only person who's allowed to, got it?"
"Deal." She smiles at me like I just let her in on the biggest secret in the world. It's in that moment that I feel an obligation to protect this young girl. Even though she seems like she could easily do it herself.
I smirk and lay out my blanket, then my pillow, my eyelids feeling heavy. As I unpack my things, I'm reminded of my missing red dress, sensing the same turn in the pit of my stomach that I always get when I remember someone was in my bus when I wasn't.
"Did you come here alone?" Minnow asks.
"Yeah. You?"
"No. I'm with Clyde. Big, tall guy with a beard. You'll meet him eventually," she says. "They're all out getting food right now."
"Is there, like, a designated group for that?" I ask.
"Basically whoever wants to, can. They go out every two days."
I nod, already mentally planning to go out on the next one. I'll hunt for food and I'll help build the underground shelter. That's what I'll do.
My yawn interrupts my thoughts.
The thought of sleeping with a stranger around scares me, but I should have figured it's what I signed up for. And Minnow doesn't feel like much of a stranger already.
"Do you mind if I sleep here, Minnow?"
"Go ahead," she says.
I give her a tight smile and settle down on the hard ground. Every sleep I've had these past seven nights has been out in the wilderness, interrupted by my own thumping heart and racing thoughts.
I woke up ready to fight for my life what felt like twenty times in a night, and I'm hopeful I can get some semblance of peace.
I don't remember dozing off.
I dream of my aunt's Shannel's wedding - a memory playing back in my head.
I'm sitting at table 3 and my mom and dad are slow-dancing and me and Isaak look at each other, sticking our tongues out in disgust at our parents.
"I came back to town for this?" he cringes.
We laugh together and I look back at mom and dad, so happy to be in each other's arms, and I smile to myself.
But then I turn back around and see myself sitting at the table. But it's Nora now. Present day. Post-apocalypse. My black hair is poorly cut to my shoulders, and I'm dressed in dark clothing, gloved hands holding a dagger.
I'm suddenly both Nora's at the same time, looking at each other. One in a beautiful dress, swaying to the music in her seat, happy to see her family together again since Isaak moved out for college, and the other, with nothing. Nothing at all.
I stir awake. It's nearly pitch black.
The tent seems to be empty, but I can't tell – with blankets and tarps draped everywhere and segmenting off sections of the large area, coupled with the dark, it's not easy to count.
But Minnow is definitely gone, her playing cards left scattered on her sleeping bag.
I sit up, slowly recollecting where I am, tuning into my surroundings. I hear light snoring, confirming there is at least one other person with me in here, but I also hear chatter outside, and the sound of a crackling fire and a faraway guitar.
People are chatting and laughing and making music. They've really found a home up here in the mountains.
I don't think I have, though.
Curiosity gets the best of me and I stand on wobbly knees, stretching out my back and slowly finding my way out of the tent. I'm eager to talk to people, yet afraid of them, and realize what a terrible paradox that is.
A large gathering of people settled around a bonfire is in the distance, close to the quasi-picnic area Ava introduced me to.
With my hands in my pockets, I approach the scene, planning to stay back far enough to be able to observe with nobody noticing me. The cold air presses against my face.
Seeing people, especially such a large group of them, is still so harrowing to me. I stare into the crowd, wondering what they've done to come here, how many secrets they have, and what they could do to hurt me.
My heart begins to race, prompting me to fear that coming here was all one huge, stupid mistake.
Until my eyes rest on familiar pointy ears. It's Boy – it has to be Boy. He has his chin resting on a man's thigh. Boy's squinting. That same squint I remember when he's slowly falling asleep, but doesn't want to be. He wants to be awake for the excitement.
The man is sitting in a lawn chair, in conversation with whoever's beside him, chuckling and scratching Boy's neck.
The fire casts orange lights and dark shadows on their features.
I have no control of my feet as they pace forward, trying to confirm that what I think is happening is actually really happening.
"Hey, Nora," I hear. I look to the side to see a smiling Ava sitting on a log with others.
"Hi," I say quietly, feeling new eyes on me. I'm too preoccupied to focus on them, though. My gaze snaps back to Boy, who's still fighting sleep.
"Boy?" I say, loud enough to attract another few sets of eyes on me, including the man who looks to have stolen my dog.
Boy's ears perk up, and his eyes meet mine, and I'm not sure what happens first: my eyes well with hot tears and he dashes at me. I fall to my knees, feeling his familiar kisses on my chin.
I feel myself trembling, cry-laughing in awe, as Boy eagerly bumps against me, wagging tail hitting me from every angle.
"Hey, hi," I say quietly. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get home. Where have you been?"
I glance up to see the man who was just petting Boy standing above me. He kneels down, the bonfire behind him silhouetting him in darkness.
"Are you..." the man begins to ask.
I feel Boy tug at my shirt, coaxing me forward, as if to tell me to come meet this stranger.
I glare at the man, steel-faced.
"Why did you take my dog?" I demand. It doesn't come out nearly as intimidating as I had hoped.
He looks at me with sympathetic eyes, paired with the hint of a relieved smile.
I wait for his explanation, protectively holding Boy.
