Day 8
Began with still skies and the low buzz of insects—a calm that felt too calm, as if the world was holding its breath. But inside Gabriel's fenced-off cabin, there was movement, sweat, and a strange new rhythm taking root.
Nestor continued hammering boards into the food storage pit. His limp slowed him down, but not his determination. His shirt clung to his back with sweat, and he muttered to himself while measuring wood.
Brei and Marga were already knee-deep in their second weeding round of the garden. Brei wore a scarf wrapped tight around her head to keep off the sun. Marga hummed old tunes as she pulled stubborn weeds with mild vengeance.
Rafe and Rico headed toward the tree line with makeshift axes and a wheelbarrow that had seen better decades.
"Don't drop a tree on your foot again," Rafe called out as they vanished into the trees.
"I didn't drop it. It slid aggressively," Rico shouted back, cheerful as always.
---
In the middle of it all, Xenia sat crouched over the layout she had drawn with a piece of charcoal on an old baking tray—a crude map of Gabriel's land, the existing fence perimeter, the well's position, and a few sketches of new fencing routes and irrigation lines.
Something nagged at her.
"This can't be it…" she murmured. "I remember—Gabriel mentioned neighbors. Other houses…"
She looked up, eyes searching the horizon. "Where are they? And why haven't we heard anything?"
She stood and walked to Gabriel, who was sharpening an old blade on the porch step.
"Gabriel."
He looked up. "What's on your mind, genius?"
"You said there's a plant shop somewhere near here. You bought seeds from it before the outbreak?"
"Yeah," he nodded, wiping the blade. "Old guy runs it. Name's Conrad. Bit of a recluse. His place is about a 25-minute walk northeast, across the dry gully."
Xenia frowned. "And you haven't tried to check on him?"
Gabriel sighed. "I figured if he was alive, he'd have shown signs. Smoke, signal, anything. Nothing for three days."
She folded her arms. "Still… if he has seeds, he might have land. And if he has land—"
"You're thinking of expanding?"
"Why not?" she said, voice crisp. "This place is great, but your soil area's too tight. If we can connect to other land—open up more farming ground—we have a chance at long-term food. It means survival. Real survival."
Gabriel nodded slowly. "You'd need a bigger fence line. Barbed wire, more posts. That'll take days."
"And I want it done right," she said. "We need to fence a path to the well, too. Right now, anyone hauling water is exposed. One silent crawler and it's over. We make a secure corridor—guarded, lit at night."
She exhaled, turning to look at the group. "It's a lot. I know that. But it's doable."
---
An hour later, she gathered everyone. They stood in a loose circle around the porch as she explained the plan, charcoal map in hand, voice steady despite the knot in her chest.
"I know it sounds ambitious," Xenia said, "but if we do this, we won't just be surviving day to day. We'll be ahead of the curve."
Rafe gave a low whistle. "And here I thought the first year of the end of the world would be relaxing."
Marga and Brei exchanged a glance.
"That's… a lot of watering," Marga said, scratching her neck.
Brei leaned closer to her. "If she adds another plot, I swear I'm gonna turn into a spinach leaf."
They both chuckled but didn't argue. They kept pulling weeds.
Anna stood with arms folded, brow arched like she was about to object. But she didn't. She gave the smallest nod. Just enough to mean: if this works, I won't stop you.
Nestor looked up from his hammering, sweat streaking down his face. "If I agree to build a watch post… can I not be on the scavenging list anymore?"
"You already requested that," Xenia said with a small smile. "I'm honoring it. You'll be our eyes from above once it's done."
Nestor nodded. "It'll take 2 or 3 weeks. I'll build it alone. Just… don't rush me."
"Deal," Xenia replied. "No rush. Just make sure it holds."
---
She spent the rest of the morning drawing up a schedule, nailing it to the inside wall of the cabin with deliberate care.
WORK DUTY ROSTER:
Marga & Brei – Garden and Water Management
(5:00 AM – 7:00 PM)
Rafe & Rico – Lumber Collection and Construction Support
(8:00 AM – 6:00 PM)
Nestor – Watchtower Construction & Perimeter Monitor
(Flexible, Self-Paced)
Xenia, Gabriel, Tenorio – Scouting, Expansion Planning, Risk Mapping
(Departure @ 7:00 AM)
BREAK FOR ALL – 12:00 NOON
All meals before duty are mandatory. No one works hungry.
---
Later that evening, Tenorio found Xenia sitting on the porch, clutching her notes.
"You sure about this?" he asked quietly.
She hesitated. Then whispered, "No. I'm not. But I can't afford to show it."
He smiled slightly. "Good. That's how leaders sound."
"I'm not trying to lead," she said. "I'm just… trying to make sure we last more than a month."
"You're doing both," Gabriel said, stepping beside them. "And if you're heading to Conrad's, I'm coming with."
"Me too," Tenorio added.
"You guys don't have to—"
Gabriel cut her off. "We do. This is our home now. Our people. You point the way. We'll walk it."
She looked up at both of them, the weight in her chest slightly lighter. "Alright. We leave tomorrow. We'll head for the plant shop first."
"If he's alive," Tenorio said, "he might be a hell of an ally."
"And if he's not…" Gabriel added, "we'll take what we can and keep building."
---
As the sky faded into deepening orange, the scent of fried greens and roasted fish filled the air. Xenia stood quietly, watching the perimeter where the new fence would stretch. Where the wells would be protected. Where the garden would grow.
She didn't know if her plan would work.
But she knew she couldn't sit still and hope.
And in a world ruled by death and silence, movement—any movement—meant life.