Day seven of the heatwave.
Outside, there was still no sign of any relief. The city had become a sprawling ghost town.
Hardly anyone was posting on Nextdoor anymore. The occasional message that did pop up was just desperate begging for water and food.
I sat in my storage room, pulled a carton of strawberry ice cream out of the freezer, and dug in with a little spoon.
These past few days, it had gotten quiet on the other side of the door.
They didn't have the energy to bang on it anymore. To stay alive, Ethan had even smashed open the toilet tank and drunk the industrial water residue left inside.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps and pounding came from the front door.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Someone was knocking on our front door.
I walked to the basement entrance and peered through the peep
