The United Earth is gone. Not a little gone. Not broken into pieces. Gone like it never existed. The town is in chaos. People running, screaming, dragging what they can carry. Fires still burn in parts of the streets. Most of the time I just keep my head down. Can’t save everyone. I can only save myself, my food, my fields, and what I can carry.

  The burned farmhouse near the cornfield is just ash and rubble now. Roof caved in, walls blackened, smoke still drifting from smoldering beams. Someone came here while I was out, looters, scavengers, whoever, and they trampled the garden. Squashed the plants. Took whatever they could carry. But they left the tractor, probably couldn’t get it working since the main fuse is always in my backpack. So I can still use it for the garden. Still, seeing the house in ruins makes a knot in my stomach.

  The wheat field still grows, though damp from the late fall rains. I harvested what I could with the scythe. The smell of crushed wheat in the morning is sharp and sweet, and reminds me that something, some small bit of life, is still mine. The harvest will have to last through winter. I can already feel frost in the air at night. Winter’s coming early.

  I checked the burned farmhouse’s silo. At least the grain survived. Looters are generally dumb it seems, only taking the easy stuff: food in crates, small sacks of flour or preserved things. But corn and wheat in the silo? They left it. Lucky for me, or more lucky for Ravenholt who I will trade it to. Moved what I could to Nina’s old spare silo, further from town and prying eyes, safer from anyone desperate or stupid enough to trample the fields. Too late in the season to try to replant what was destroyed, except some winter wheat so getting on that while the chaos in town settles down.

  My own small garden was damaged also, so I grabbed the spare seeds and such from the barn and planted some fall crops to have a bit more of a variety to eat including: garlic, kale, spinach, lettuce, broccoli, cabbage, carrots, beets, and radishes. These I won’t trade, they’re for me and at least it’s not corn.

  A scavenger came too close to my land today. Thought he could get away with taking what was left from the burned garden. He didn’t see me until I stomped the ground with my hoe and stepped in front of him. He snarled, reaching for a knife. I didn’t even think, I swung my hoe at him. He went down with a scream. I can’t feel good about it. But I had to survive and he decided to pull a knife.

  The forest still has life. I killed three deer, a boar. Took the hides to patch clothes and blankets and such. The meat I took into town after keeping a bit for myself. The town is calmer now, but people are still hungry. I carried the meat to the square to trade for things I could use. Lot of people tried to take advantage or steal from me since I'm still on the small side. I had to leave the meat and run. After they left I went back for my wagon. Wagon was trashed, so I just left it. I have the tractor and the big wagon now anyways.

  I found the mayor and complained to him that the market wasn’t safe.

  The mayor looked tired but he agreed that I could bring my meat and grain to him directly. Ravenholt’s squad is cracking down on anyone scavenging without permission. I’m certified to scavenge locally. Feels strange. Eleven years old, in charge of survival like this. But it works. Keeps me alive. And I don’t have to waste time selling at the market. This is good.

  I got chickens today! Ren, Glenda, Brenda, and Zenda.

  Built a pen. Taught them to scratch for bugs in the garden. Only a little corn goes to them, but enough to keep them healthy. The garden feeds them a bit, will be more come spring. I’m leaving Ren with the girls for now hoping for some spring chicks. Then I’ll separate a few girls away to just be layers. Trixie showed me where the library was so I could read up on them more. I think this will make my corn supply taste better to turn it into meat and eggs.

  Town has decided on a currency now. Nobody trusts anyone else, no global government, no United Earth, nothing left. But people still needed a way to trade fairly. So everyone agreed and they made coins. Real coins, but each one has a little embedded fraction of crypto in it. Can’t fake it, can’t copy it. Not sure how that works but I put it on my to-read list.

  There are three levels: iron, nickel, and copper. Iron is the smallest, nickel is bigger, copper is the top. Scale goes like this: 100 iron is 1 nickel, 100 nickel is 1 copper. So 10,000 iron is 1 copper.

  I don’t fully understand how the crypto part works. Each coin has a tiny computer chip inside or something, but the OmniPad can scan and verify that it’s real money. Makes sense, I guess?

  When I trade with the mayor, I can either take stuff others have scav`d, or take the coins. I started keeping some coins in my bag. It feels strange holding money instead of food, but if I have coins, I can buy more later if I need it. Maybe even trade them with people who aren’t in town. The mayor says everyone is using the same coin system globally. Not sure how that happened at all. Didn’t ask, figured he would try to explain it to me. He really likes to talk. Like a lot.

  I like the feel of the copper coins. Heavy in my hand. Shiny, like they mean something. I feel a little grown-up carrying them. But I know grown-ups still die, even with coins. So I don’t trust them too much. Just enough to trade. People in town started calling them pebs because they look like small flat pebbles.

  I got a copper peb and some Irons and nickles but mainly for the wheat, corn and a little meat today I got some solar panels. Set them up on the roof. Freezer works. Fridge works. For the first time in forever, I can keep food fresh. I can sleep knowing the meat won’t spoil overnight.

  I used a recipe book I traded a couple irons for and I made a cake today. Flour, eggs, sugar, milk. Burned a little, but ate it anyway. Needed it. No one else is making cakes out here anymore. I made the icing with lard and some other stuff, lots of sugar too. Tasted a little different because I used the boar lard but cake is cake.

  Winter is coming early. Air smells like frost even when the sun hits. The fields are damp. Nights long. Stacking firewood, checking the chickens, reinforcing pens. Everything now is about survival. Killed a coyote that was trying to get into the chicken pen. I didn’t eat that but I kept the fur. It’s on my bed now.

  Trixie came to visit, she looked thin so I cooked up a big meal. Apparently nobody is buying tattoo’s right now. Her and Nina got along great, but I think that’s because Trixie kept giving Nina pieces of meat. She’s going to help me with the garden and such in exchange for food. Help is good, company is better. No mom, she’s not my girlfriend. She’s too old for me. But she is my friend.

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  The garden at the burned farmhouse is ruined. Squashed vegetables, broken fencing. Planted a small patch in the fields with the tractor. Seeds go into the soil, hope goes into my head.

  Hunting again. Deer, boar, rabbits. Field dressing takes time. Cleaning, cutting meat into manageable pieces. Skins stretched and salted. Trade what I can in town, keep what I need. No one else has time for courtesy. I always wait for Trixie to help when I take stuff to town. She has a gun so that keeps people away.

  Brought another load of meat into town. Things are getting repaired, Someone tried to steal meat from me but the guards stopped them this time before Trixie could shoot them. I took the meat to the guard house like the Mayor said and got a bunch of irons and nickels for it.

  Town is slowly starting to settle down now.

  Ravenholt guards keep watch now.

  Started lessons again today. Books I managed to scavenge from ruined homes, some left in town libraries. Math mostly. A little science. Learned how to calculate harvest yield, how to track rations. History is hard to read when everyone around you is dead or running. Still, some nights I sit by the fire with the cat and a book. Can’t let the brain rot even if the body fights to survive.

  Traded some more meat and grain with the mayor. Town slowly settling. Ravenholt watches everything, keeps order. Any scavenger has to be certified, and I am. Learned how to navigate the rules. Learned that being alive is harder than just being brave.

  Every day, I wake up. Feed the chickens, check the garden, hunt, harvest, trade. Repeat. Nights are long and cold. I keep finding small fires, people not knowing how to control their fire right. Some burn out on their own, some I have to put out. Every day is a test. Every day, scared. But alive.

  Nina follows me whenever I go to the old farm. Never to town, or anywhere else. But she seems to always know when I go visit her old home. Maybe cats are smarter than I first thought.

  Back home I have new chicks in the pen growing. Solar panels humming. Freezer full. Trixie has her own garden now so doesn’t need to come by and help as much. Gave her some chicks to raise too. I have too many chicks, so I asked the mayor to find some more people who will raise them. Everyone in Ravenholt still lives scattered around the city.

  I can survive this.

  Fear is always there. I feel it in my stomach. I feel it in my hands. I feel it when I’m alone in the barn, listening to the wind over the burned fields. I’m scared. But I keep moving. Keep surviving. Keep breathing. Nobody really visits now, which is fine. Any time someone in town sees me they ask about food before anything.

  That weird star in the sky… the one I’ve been watching for years, hasn’t moved an inch… it’s not Lith. I thought it was a star. I remember hearing on the radio now, “Lith…” like it was just another thing in the night sky. But it isn’t.

  A messenger came into town today. Guards let him in, and everyone crowded to hear. I talked to him later at the bar with Trixie. He said the star is actually a planet. Its name is Lethe. Some old Greek god, I think. He said it’s coming here. Not in a hundred years, not in a lifetime… in eleven. Eleven years. And when it gets here, it’s going to smash everything. Trixie was surprised I didn’t already know this. I live alone in the woods, who would have told me?

  Everyone’s been getting messengers with the same warning. All over the world. We’re supposed to start building rockets. Rockets. To leave. They’re building something in the sky to keep us down, to keep us from escaping. But we’re not staying. We have to get off this rock before Lethe gets here.

  They even gave plans. Free plans for anyone who wants to build a rocket. They said the more rockets we build, the harder it will be for them to stop everyone. I think that’s a good idea. If they can’t hit us all at once, some of us will get out. Some of us will live. I made sure I got a copy of the plans so I could study them. This is important I think.

  I don’t know how to feel. It’s scary. Eleven years from now… I’ll be fully grown by then. But it’s also exciting. We’re going to leave Earth. And maybe I can make it. Maybe I can help others get out too. Maybe you made it too and are still alive up there? Trixie thinks that’s where you are.

  I keep staring at Lethe every night now. It doesn’t look like it’s moving, but I know it is. Slowly, slowly, it’s coming. I can’t stop thinking about it.

  I can be brave and be scared. Bravery is doing anyway. Doing when you’re scared. Doing when everyone else is dead or gone. Doing when it’s dark and cold and the world is ending.

  Love you, Mom and Dad. I miss you.

  Radio night…

  Robby moved through the cold night, carrying the salvaged radio and the last good batteries from the wrecked car. The frost had coated everything, turning the woods near his dugout home into a brittle, silent forest. Each step creaked through fallen leaves, and the air smelled faintly of smoke and wet earth.

  Inside the dugout, he set the radio down on the stone table he had made, the surface worn smooth from years of use. His fingers were numb from the cold, but he worked quickly, hauling his makeshift antenna up into a tall tree outside, twisting the wire carefully to catch the faintest signal. He ran the cable down to the radio, fumbling with connectors, testing each battery, swapping them until finally the device hummed to life.

  Static filled the room at first, crackling and hissing, but then a voice emerged. A song, tinny and slightly distorted, floated through the dugout. Robby leaned closer, holding his breath, as fragments of voices began to emerge from the noise.

  People were talking. They weren’t reporting wars or deaths anymore. They were talking about surviving, about sharing food, about building shelters, about protecting their families. There were songs, too, slow, hopeful, and sometimes mournful, sung by voices he couldn’t place but somehow understood.

  And then he heard it. “Unchained Day,” the phrase repeated over and over, sometimes whispered, sometimes shouted with excitement. It was the day. The day everyone planned to launch their rockets together. The day they would leave Earth, or die trying. People were sharing ideas, trading schematics over the radio, giving advice on construction, on fuel, on navigation. Some were scared, some were excited, all were determined.

  Robby sank onto the floor beside the radio, staring at the flickering glow from its dials. He thought about Lethe, about the fires, about the burned farmhouses, the looters, and the people who had died. He thought about Nina, about the life he had scraped together for himself. And he thought about the rockets, the escape, the chance to survive.

  It wasn’t much, but the voices on the radio reminded him that he wasn’t alone. Somewhere, across the world, people were planning the same thing, fighting the same fear, and daring to hope. For the first time in a long time, Robby allowed himself to imagine the day when he might stand on the launchpad, then in the rocket watching Earth shrink beneath him as he rose into the sky.

  The static crackled again, cutting into the song, and a new voice came through, laughing softly. “...You ready for it?” it asked.

  Robby smiled faintly, gripping the edge of the table. He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The radio had spoken enough.

  He would be ready.