LOS ANGELES -- Armed with three blankets, a plastic bag of Cheerios and a quart of soy milk, Mario and Maria Perez and their three children settled in for a night in Winnetka Park.
"Our apartment - it keeps shaking. I think it's not so safe," says Mario Perez, a laborer. "It's hard to be here under the sky but what choice do we have? It's warm tonight."
Across the San Fernando Valley, thousands of apartment dwellers and homeowners - unable or afraid to return to their dwellings - pitched tents in yards and parks.
As many as 2,500 slept in the park at Sepulveda Recreation Center in Reseda; another 1,000 or more set up camp at the San Fernando Recreation Center as dark fell on the warm evening.
The American Red Cross opened 14 shelters across the valley, and put 31 emergency response vehicles, dispensing food and first aid, into the field.
Shelters were set up in high schools, churches, recreation centers and armories.
"We're ready to open more if necessary, or to close some if we don't get that many people," said Pamela Corante, a Red Cross spokeswoman.
But for many, sleeping under the stars seemed far less fearsome than the awesome rattling of aftershocks.
"It's better here. My apartment could fall," said Elvira Albeno, 23, of Van Nuys, who set up camp in a park with her boyfriend and her 2-year-old daughter, Ninibe.
Her boyfriend, Jimmy Reyes, said that - with only $ 20 in his pocket - they had had nowhere else to go.
"This car and these blankets - that's all there is," he said. "For tonight, I'm OK. But tomorrow, I don't know."
At least 500 people streamed into the park at Chase and Winnetka streets, near the epicenter of the earthquake.
"Yes, we could probably go home, but we don't want to. My wife will not sleep in her bed," said Niaz Sadeqiar.
Sadeqiar, a computer plant worker, was resting on a blanket with his wife, Lailomah. She was holding their son Omid, 2.
"We came to the park at 9 a.m. and we've been here all day," Sadeqiar said.
A few blocks away, sisters Teri and Lori Bender pitched a tent in the front yard of a friend's mother's house.
Lori Bender refused to return to the condo she shares with her sister after a cabinet fell on her in the quake.
"The ground has constantly been shaking. I just want it to stop," she said.
As the sun set, the sisters fetched a few Duraflame logs from a convenience store and invited friends over to share five pounds of rapidly thawing chicken. They had no water, but they planned to enjoy four bottles of wine.
Later they planned to snuggle beside the fire, built in the barbecue cover, play cards, read and thank the stars they are alive.
"I feel safer already," Teri Bender said as she drove the last tent stake.
At a shelter in Reseda, Paula Jiminez and her family - two daughters, two granddaughters and a dog - planned to spend the night with 300 others on cots at Reseda High School.
A strong aftershock sent them spilling out of the gym into the parking lot. Even so, the large, sturdy building seemed a great deal safer.
Jimenez remembers lying in bed with her family when her house literally split apart.
"I just kept holding them all - saying 'I love you, I love you, I love you,' " she said. "Then the ceiling fell in.
"We'll never be able to go back there now."
Survival seemed a matter of cooperation among neighbors, friends and even strangers.
On Bassett Street, a cul-de-sac off Sherman Way, a 6-month-old neighborhood watch committee wasted no time.
The local Boy Scout leader pulled out the tents. Another neighbor went for ice. A third collected food. A fourth checked on elderly residents.
"We have enough supplies for three days, enough for everyone," said Stephan Feinbloom, a Los Angeles County worker who lives on the block.
After earlier disasters, some homeowners decided to stay at their destroyed homes to ward off looters, camping out on front lawns rather than going to shelters.
But Corante said: "That's not such a great idea. There's quite a bit of danger out in the open, from downed power lines and falling debris."
