Anna Goodnight and her husband were trying to put a good face on a weeklong ordeal that left them uncertain of the fate of their home and now had them camping next to the store with hundreds of others forced to flee from a deadly Northern California wildfire. But William Goodnight finally lost it and began to cry.

"We're grateful. We're better off than some. I've been holding it together for her," he said, gesturing toward his wife. "I'm just breaking down finally."

With the Goodnights' hometown of Paradise destroyed, thousands of homes gone and untold neighbors dead, uncertainty hangs over survivors like smoke still clouding the sky over Chico. For those who have turned a grassy lot next to the Walmart into an informal campground, the anxiety of what lies ahead is even greater.

They have no roof overhead – just a filament of nylon that provides privacy but little security. It's chilly at night and they wonder what will happen if it rains and where they'll go when the camp closes.

Word began to spread that efforts were being made to phase out the camp by gradually removing donated clothing, food and toilets.

"The ultimate goal is to get these people out of tents, out of their cars and into warm shelter, into homes," said Jessica Busick, who was among the first volunteers when she and her husband started serving free food from their Truckaroni food truck. "We've always known this isn't a long-term solution."

It's unclear what will be done if people don't leave, but city officials don't plan to kick them out, said Betsy Totten, a Chico spokeswoman. Totten said volunteers – not the city – had decided to shut down the camp.

Some, like Batres' family, had arrived after running out of money for a hotel. Others couldn't find a room or weren't allowed to stay at shelters with their dogs or, in the case of Suzanne Kaksonen, her two cockatoos.

Kaksonen couldn't remember how long she had been there, but said it felt like forever.

"I just want to go home," she said. "I don't even care if there's no home. I just want to go back to my dirt, you know, and put a trailer up and clean it up and get going. Sooner the better. I don't want to wait six months. That petrifies me."

Information for contacting the Federal Emergency Management Agency for assistance was posted on a board that allowed people to write the names of those they believed were missing. Several of those names, including Flanagan's, had the word "Here" written next to them.

Melissa Contant, who drove from the San Francisco area to help out, advised people to register with FEMA as soon as possible and not to reveal too much information about whether they own or rent homes or if they have sufficient food and water, because that could delay aid.

"You're living in a Walmart parking lot – you're not OK," she said.