We finally arrived at the section where the records were kept. Charlie, now noticeably more cheerful after Ghram’s intense interrogation, pulled out three large record books. Handing one to Ghram and Luke to share, he kept one for himself and gave the third to me.

  “These books contain detailed information about every resident in the Neutral Zone,” Charlie explained, his tone upbeat as if trying to lighten the mood. “Each entry includes family trees, locations of homes and properties, sources of income, and professions. It’s a lot of information, so I suggest focusing on the family name to save time.”

  He then turned to me with an almost theatrical air of forgetfulness. “Aria, I seem to have forgotten the name of the person Grandma asked us to find. What was it again?”

  Charlie’s casual delivery was smooth, designed to keep Ghram from growing suspicious. I hadn’t shared my aunt’s name with him before, so I quickly supplied it. “I think she goes by the name Marie Smith.”

  “Marie Smith,” Ghram repeated, her sharp gaze flicking toward me before she asked, “How old is she? Does she have a husband?”

  “Um… she’s 35, and no, she doesn’t have a husband,” I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral. Ghram held my gaze for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she nodded and opened her book. She and Luke began their search, flipping through the pages methodically. Charlie started scanning his book as well, and I quickly followed suit, doing my best to stay focused despite the mix of fear and excitement building within me as I inched closer to finding my aunt.

  Charlie was right—these records were on a whole different level. Not only were the family generations documented here, but each resident’s family health history was meticulously detailed, including the time and cause of death. Flipping through all these pages felt overwhelming. This would be so much easier if everything were stored in a computer. People could simply type in a name, and the information would appear instantly. Instead, flipping through these pages made me feel buried under mountains of paper.

  “Charlie, wouldn’t it be better if you guys had computers? I mean, it’d be so much faster and less tedious. Plus, it would save paper and be more environmentally friendly,” I said, turning toward him with a hopeful suggestion. Of course, I knew Charlie didn’t have the authority to make that kind of change, but I couldn’t help but bring it up.

  Without glancing up from his book, Charlie replied, “We don’t use computers here. No cell phones, laptops, iPads, or calculators either. We know about them and how they work, but they’re not part of life here. The only advanced equipment we use are radios for communication and news, some medical devices, and a few modern construction tools. Even for building, we mostly rely on traditional methods. The closest thing to a phone here is the teletabbies, though only a few people have one.”

  I blinked at his response. Life here really was so different from the fast-paced, tech-reliant world I tilted my head thoughtfully and asked, “What if it’s nighttime and you’re at home? Let’s say you need to ask a friend for a favor for tomorrow or just have a quick question. How do you reach them, since you guys don’t use phones, and considering how far apart the houses are here?”

  Charlie again didn’t even look up from his book as he responded, “We’d either walk to their place or wait until we see them the next day. If you have those teletabies, you can use that too. Honestly, we prefer to handle things on our own whenever possible. It saves the trouble of heading out at night, and if we really need help, we make sure to ask the person, but not beyond 4:30 or 5:00 p.m. as a courtesy.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “What about health emergencies? How do you handle those?” I asked, trying to picture how people here managed during critical situations.

  Charlie didn’t pause his search, his eyes darting across the pages as he flipped through them with practiced efficiency. “Some houses have bells or triangles they ring, or someone might just shout for help. Usually, the nearest neighbor responds first. That’s how it works here—the closest house is the first to lend a hand. There’s a saying here: If one member needs help, the whole group should step in, because someday, you’ll be the one in need.”

  I couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly Charlie juggled answering my questions and combing through the records. His ability to multitask was impressive. It was like he was in his element, perfectly in sync with the rhythm of this place.

  Meanwhile, I was struggling to stay focused. As much as I wanted to find my aunt, my growing hunger kept distracting me, making it hard to concentrate.

  Trying to push past the gnawing sensation in my stomach, I turned my attention back to the record book in my hands. A question popped into my head, and I decided to ask, “Charlie, do you happen to know how many people live in the Neutral Zone?”

  Charlie paused for a moment, flipping a page. “About 3,000, give or take. But I’m not sure of the exact number. The census is probably listed in the book you’re holding, likely near the front.”

  Of course. I felt silly for not checking sooner. I quickly turned to the first few pages of the record book, scanning for the information. As I worked, I glanced at Ghram and Luke, who were deeply engrossed in their search. They didn’t seem bothered by my questions or distracted in the slightest. Their intense focus reminded me to stay sharp too. They were flipping pages at a rapid pace, just like Charlie. Determined not to fall behind, I tried my best to match their speed, flipping through the pages as quickly as I could to cover as much ground as they did.

  About twenty minutes later, Ghram spoke up, her gaze directed at me. “Hey, are you sure the person’s name is Marie Smith? We’ve finished combing through all the family names starting with ‘S.’ There are Smiths listed, but no Marie. We even double-checked, just in case, but still nothing.”

  I glanced down at my own record book—nothing on my end either.

  “Nothing here, Aria,” Charlie added, his tone calm but firm. My stomach churned. It seemed impossible. Smith was my mother’s maiden name before she got married.

  “Maybe you got the name wrong,” Ghram said, crossing her arms with an air of finality.

  “That’s…” My voice trailed off. Could I have gotten my aunt’s name wrong? We always called her Aunt Marie. Mom always referred to her as Marie. The only explanation could be if she had gotten married and changed her last name. But as far as I knew, she wasn’t married. Mom always teased her about finding a husband, so she couldn’t have had a partner back then. But what if she got married recently? Doubt started creeping in.

  “Aria?” Charlie’s voice pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. He suggested gently, “How about we pause the search for now? There are some factors we might have overlooked. I should have asked more questions before Grandma left. Let’s eat something first and take a 20- to 30-minute break. Then we can come back to this with clearer heads.”

  Before I could respond, Ghram cut in, clearly annoyed. “Hey, hey, you guys promised to play dodgeball with us. We’ve done our part, and there’s no result. Accept it and honor your first agreement before jumping into another search.”

  Charlie sighed and gave in. “Alright, alright. But only after we’ve eaten and rested for a bit.”

  I nodded reluctantly, feeling the weight of frustration settle in my chest. We all agreed to break for now, but the lack of progress was eating at me. I needed to find a way to contact Mom—this was starting to feel like chasing shadows. What if Marie wasn’t even her real name? The thought alone made my stomach churn. I bit my lip, trying to hold in my frustration.

  “Right, dodgeball,” I muttered under my breath, almost mechanically.

  “Hm?” Ghram tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. Then her grin widened mischievously. “Oh~ Someone’s angry and cranky.”

  Her teasing tone made my frustration flare, but I forced myself to take a deep breath. This wasn’t over yet.

  We agreed to head to Charlie’s place for lunch. As we made our way out, Charlie, Luke, and Ghram stopped to chat with Ms. Ivy, the clerk. While they talked, I took the opportunity to step closer to the door for some privacy and check my phone. Hoping for a miracle, I searched for a signal and quickly dialed Mom’s number. It rang, and after a few moments, she picked up.

  “Yes, hello? Mariana Christine Greenfield speaking,” Mom answered, her voice brisk. She must’ve been busy to not check who was calling, but I was relieved she answered.

  “Hi, Mom, it’s Aria,” I said, my words tumbling out faster than I intended. “I can’t get in touch with Aunt Marie. She hasn’t responded to any of my texts. Have you heard from her?”

  As soon as the question left my lips, I realized I should’ve started by asking how she was doing. But judging by her tone, she was clearly busy, and I didn’t want to waste her time. Plus, I was in a hurry myself.