In the After

didn’t notice me in the doorway. Even then I was good at being quiet.
    They kept the gun, thanks to my mother’s stubbornness. My father surrendered, as long as I learned how to use it properly and knew it wasn’t a plaything. I was ten. My father came up with some lame excuse about wanting me to gain a better understanding of the world, but I knew it was because he feared I would find the gun hidden in the closet and think it was a toy.
    I never thought about the gun, not after my lessons at the shooting range were finished. That day, however, when I needed to leave the house for the first time since They arrived, all I could think about was how grateful I was that my mother was super paranoid, that her work demanded it.
    I loaded the clip into the gun and smiled, putting the holster on, slipping my arms through the straps. I packed my backpack with a flashlight, a knife, and my wallet, unsure of what I would find outside. Looking back, it just goes to show how clueless I was.
    I waited until sunset, when there would be less of Them. It took me twenty minutes to work up the nerve to open the front door. The lock clicked open, painfully loud. I checked to make sure They weren’t waiting for me at the fence. We lived in a nice neighborhood: big expensive houses with well-manicured lawns. Ours was the only one with a fenced-in front yard. I unlocked the electric gate, checking for the hundredth time that the key was safely tucked into my pocket for when I returned. To lock myself out now would most certainly mean death. I felt sad remembering when I’d done it a couple of times Before, when the penalty was only heading over to Sabrina’s house to mooch junk food until one of my parents got home.
    I took a deep breath and steadied my shaking hands, willing myself into calmness, pushing my terror away as I stepped past the rubble of what used to be our outer gate.
    I had decided I would start out simple; venture to the corner store a block away, have a quick look around, grab some canned ravioli, and haul my butt back to my house. I was careful to walk quietly.
    “Slow and steady wins the race,” my father had always said. He is such a dork , I thought automatically. It made me want to cry. My father wasn’t anything anymore. No one was anything.
    I walked slowly, carefully placing each foot on the sidewalk to avoid making noise. The night was windy, which made me jumpy. Any movement of a bush or tree and I froze. After constant stalling, I had to force myself to calm down again. I didn’t want the sound of me hyperventilating to bring Them. The shadows are just shadows , I told myself. They are all sleeping now , I reasoned. But I wasn’t very convincing.
    As I walked, I noticed a few of the houses had broken windows or open doors. Cars had been abandoned in the street, some with blood on the windshield. I tried not to look at these things too closely, not to let them psych me out. I had survived an alien invasion, I wasn’t going to starve to death because I couldn’t overcome my fear.
    I made it to the store without spotting any of Them. Cautiously I pressed at the door, expecting it to be locked, but it gave way with little trouble. The smell hit me first, musty and rotten. I stood for a moment with the door open, breathing shallowly until I became used to the stink. When I stepped inside, my shoes squeaked on the linoleum floor, making me cringe. I slipped them off and left them by the door.
    This is the market that Sabrina and I would sneak off to, to buy junk food when she stayed at my house. There used to always be customers here, buying munchies or lottery tickets, sipping on sodas in supersize cups. The outside world was empty now, but being in that vacant store was somehow worse.
    I made myself focus into the darkness and went straight to the canned food aisle, frantically filling my backpack with corn, soup, tuna fish, anything I could get my hands on. The cans clanged loudly when I hoisted the bag to my shoulders and I froze. There was no way I could make such a racket and get home alive. Quickly I repacked the bag, placing candy bars and bags of marshmallows between the cans.
    But now not all the cans fit. I don’t know why I didn’t leave them on the floor, but it didn’t seem right. Your mind does funny things when you spend so much time alone. I stocked them back on the shelf, one by one. Anxiety was flooding my body, and my hands were shaking with fear and hunger. I dropped a can on the