Enza stared at the list in front of her, the names of wholesalers she'd worked with for years. She tapped the pencil against the paper, thinking through her plan one more time. She wasn't a theologian or a prophet, but she was practical. The world was changing, and the signs were all around her—the disappearances, the chaos. The old neighbor who'd once sat across from her on the porch, explaining the Rapture and Tribulation, had been right. That neighbor was gone now, along with Angelo, along with millions.

Enza sighed, the weight of it all heavy in her chest, but she wasn't one to wallow in despair. She'd grown up in the shadow of a war, seen her village torn apart by fascists and Nazis. She knew what it was like to be left with nothing. And if that war had taught her anything, it was that survival wasn't just about faith or luck—it was about preparation.

The empty shelves in the grocery stores, the boarded-up homes, the sense of fear that gripped the remaining people—this was familiar in a way she'd hoped to never see again. But there was something else she recognized: opportunity. The population had dropped drastically, and with it, the demand for food. Prices were falling faster than people could comprehend. What had been too expensive to stock up on just weeks ago was now practically being given away.

Enza made up her mind.

With her decades of business experience, she had the know-how to liquidate her assets quickly and quietly. The bank didn't ask many questions; they were glad to see someone still using their services. A chunk of her savings went into her old accounts, but most of it—well, that was about to go somewhere else. Somewhere more useful.

She glanced around the house, noting how empty it felt without Angelo. Without all the neighborhood kids who used to come by after school. But there were still a few left. A few who hadn't been Raptured. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, but she pressed it away. It wasn't her job to understand why some had been taken and others left. It was her job to make sure the ones left behind survived.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, interrupting her thoughts. She picked it up, recognizing the voice immediately.

"Nonna Enza, it's Dominic," a rough but familiar voice said. Dominic had been one of the neighborhood troublemakers, always getting into scraps with other kids, always skating just on the edge of real trouble. "It's crazy out here. Some of the kids, they—uh, they need help. We don't know where to go. My aunt's gone, my cousin's gone—hell, half my block's gone."

Enza felt a tug at her heart. "You come to me, Dominic. All of you. Bring whoever needs help."

She hung up and grabbed her coat, her mind racing. Dominic and the others would be here soon, but first, she needed to make sure there was a plan for them. She couldn't let them wander, scared and lost. These kids didn't have anyone else. But they had her.
-

The next day, Enza was at the warehouse. A cold, concrete building with stacks of crates and boxes, the kind of place where she used to buy bulk supplies for her restaurant. The forklift hummed in the background, moving pallets of food that no one else was buying. She handed her order to the manager, a heavy-set man in a stained jacket who looked at her as if she were crazy.

"You sure about this, Enza?" he asked, glancing over the massive quantities of canned vegetables, dried beans, and powdered milk. "That's a lotta food for one woman. Most people are trying to get rid of stuff, not stock up."

She smiled politely, but her eyes were sharp. "I'm sure. You got it in the warehouse, don't you? I'll take it."

He shrugged, grateful for the business, even if it was unusual. "Well, you're in luck. With everything going on, we've got more than we know what to do with. I'll even give you a discount."

Enza didn't care about the discount. She wasn't here to haggle. She was here to ensure that, when the worst came, she and those kids had enough to get through it. She knew how to make the most of anything. A little seasoning, a little love, and even canned beans could taste like a feast.

She arranged for the food to be delivered to a derelict barn she'd bought on the edge of town. The movers didn't ask questions—again, they were just glad for the work. As the last of the crates were stacked inside, Enza allowed herself a small smile. She had enough now to feed an army. Or at least, a small neighborhood.

As the days passed, kids started showing up at her house—first Dominic, then Maria, then a trickle of others who had somehow survived the chaos. Some had parents who were still around, others had no one left. Nonna Enza became a sort of hub for them, a place they knew they could go if things got too bad. Her house was like a sanctuary, just as it had been before all of this.

She worked quietly, methodically, reuniting the ones she could with distant relatives who hadn't been Raptured. She called around, using the old landline to track down uncles, cousins, anyone who might take these kids in. For those who had no one, she found other solutions. There were always people out there who still cared, who still wanted to help, even if the world was falling apart.

She didn't shy away from the tough cases, either—the kids who were always in trouble. The ones who ran with gangs or hung around bad influences. They were still kids to her. Still worth saving.

"Nonna," Dominic said one afternoon, standing in her kitchen as she stirred a pot of pasta. His voice was hesitant, unsure. "Why are you doing all this? I mean… you're old. You could've just, I don't know, stayed out of it."

Enza paused, wiping her hands on her apron. She looked at Dominic, his face hardened by too much loss for someone his age.

"I lived through worse than this, Dominic," she said softly. "I've seen war, I've seen people disappear, I've seen hunger. And I've always believed—when you survive, you help others survive. You don't just hide away and let the world burn."

Dominic didn't say anything for a while. He watched as she ladled pasta into bowls, setting them on the table for the kids who had gathered around.

"Besides," she added with a faint smile, "someone's gotta feed you troublemakers."

Dominic grinned, a rare sight these days, and sat down to eat.
She didn't talk about the Rapture much. Most of the kids didn't either. They all knew what had happened, but no one wanted to dwell on it. What mattered now was survival. Enza kept moving forward, kept her mind on the practical things. Stocking up, making plans, caring for those who were left.