APEX -- With the chemical fire out, life moved on.

People packed into Apex's churches Sunday, crowded into the Bojangles' and made the Super Target hum.

"It's pretty much gone back to normal, everybody seems to have taken it somewhat in stride," said Ron Crabtree, 50, of Apex as he left the town's Target. "For an emergency, it was pretty minimal."

Schools and businesses in the town are slated to reopen today after closing for a fire-imposed long weekend.

But the environmental group Greenpeace issued a statement late Sunday evening raising concern that the "all clear" message to residents may be premature. Rick Hind, legislative director of the Greenpeace Toxics Campaign, said no one has identified the compounds that went up in smoke during Thursday night's blaze, making it difficult to assess the danger that people may have been exposed to.

Hind said any number of substances the plant was allowed to handle could have been vaporized by the fire into toxic particles, which could have settled on countertops, cars, clothing, toys, books, lawns and every other surface.

"Given the lack of information ... our question is, 'Were people's basements and closed spaces checked out to be safe against vapors?' " Hind said, noting that the vapors were likely heavier than air so would have concentrated in low-lying areas. "And are there plans from local officials to sample surface areas of the interior and exteriors of homes, schools and other occupied buildings?"

The group has written letters to the Environmental Protection Agency and the N.C. Department of Environment and Natural Resources, urging them to conduct tests.

Meanwhile, police barricades that encircled the central part of town disappeared everywhere Sunday except Investment Boulevard, site of the towering, explosive fire that began late Thursday and forced thousands to evacuate.

By this morning, authorities expected to have shrunk the restricted zone to a few hundred feet in front of the charred remnants of the Environmental Quality plant. That way, only one operating business -- East Jordan Iron Works -- would remain blocked off, Apex Town Manager Bruce Radford said.

Investigators continued to interview the EQ plant's 25 employees Sunday as cleanup specialists began looking for ways to get rid of the plant's barrels and metal skeleton.

Precautions remained: Sand berms surrounding the EQ plant and storm drains stayed in place, and black, boxy air monitors continued to hum. Herbert Recore, 59, of Pittsboro, even put on a respirator Sunday before touring the East Jordan Iron Works building where he works as a truck driver. "I'm chemical intolerant," he said.

A few blocks away, Pastor Ray Wickham started the morning in front of the New Horizons Fellowship church in a white hazmat suit. His flock laughed, which is what he wanted. "I wore it out as I started my message to lighten the mood," he said.

Outside, Jose March shared his evacuation story with those who didn't have to go through it themselves. "Our house was vibrating from the explosions," March, 54, told one man. "I had a ladder out against the house, and my wife woke up because she thought somebody was trying to steal it."

March, who returned Saturday, said everything was back to normal, though he did suggest changing the church's air filters.

The emergency workers who took over an old Winn-Dixie parking lot on U.S. 64 have disappeared. Hazardous material teams trucked their supplies home, and the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency arranged to send its emergency response RV back to Atlanta.

Meanwhile, EQ continued to collect names of people who may have claims against the company for money lost because of the evacuation. Company spokesman Robert Doyle said the company will consider compensating some evacuees in the next few weeks.

Amid the after-church crowd at the Bojangles', though, compliments for town emergency workers and officials outnumbered complaints about EQ.

Kathy Bradham, 50, of Apex said she had the second-grade students in her Sunday school class write thank-you notes to the Apex fire department. "God loves you," they read, according to Bradham. "And I do, too."