Chapter 8 – Shadows at the Edge
Morning came gray and heavy with mist. The fields around the Carter house were muted, dew darkening the dirt road and the grass. Alex pulled on his boots and jacket, the leather stiff from yesterday's rain, and stepped outside. The barrels collected last night's rain, full and humming with stored potential.
Robert was already at the fence, tightening a loose wire post. Margaret moved through the garden, tying up the bean vines that had drooped under the wetness. The air smelled of damp earth and pine, strangely comforting and sharp all at once.
Alex took a deep breath. Today would be about maintenance and small improvements—but he couldn't shake the unease that had been growing in the past few days.
After breakfast, he gathered tools for his first project: repairing a sagging section of the fence along the east perimeter. One of the old posts had tilted under the rain and weight of the wire.
Robert came over, eyeing the tilt. "That could be a weak spot. Any trouble getting it upright?"
Alex shook his head. "I think we can brace it with a couple of crossbars. It'll hold better."
They worked together, hammers and nails striking rhythmically. Sweat ran down Alex's neck despite the cool mist. Every now and then, he paused and glanced down the road. Nothing moved. The mist was thick, hiding the far fields, making the horizon seem wider and emptier.
A faint crunch of gravel made Alex freeze mid-swing. He scanned the road. Nothing.
"Probably a deer," Robert said, following his gaze. But Alex's gut didn't believe him. He made a mental note to keep an eye on the east side in the evenings.
Margaret called them in for lunch. She had prepared stew from last week's canned beans, adding some herbs she'd dried herself.
Sitting at the table, Alex spread his notebook open. He'd begun a new section: Knowledge & DIY Projects.
Water: barrels, gutters, well maintenance
Food: garden, seed drying, preservation
Shelter: windows, doors, fence
Tools: basic repairs, hammering, minor woodworking
Science reading: physics, chemistry, biology, electronics, herbalism
He wrote in a corner: Need more knowledge on chemistry for cleaning and basic medicine. Need mechanical skills for pumps or engines.
Margaret peered over his shoulder. "You really treat these books like treasure."
"I think they are," Alex said. "One day, knowing how to make something or fix something could save all of us."
Robert nodded, eating silently.
After lunch, Alex returned to the basement to examine his small DIY projects. The shelves holding the books were sturdy, but one bracket had loosened slightly from the damp. He removed it, measured carefully, and replaced it with a longer screw.
Then he moved to a smaller project: a makeshift drying rack for seeds. He took old wooden frames, strung thin wire across them, and placed trays of beans and tomato seeds. It wasn't fancy, but it was functional.
"Eventually," he thought, "we can save enough to start new crops next year. If the world comes back around."
The afternoon passed with minor repairs and garden checks. Robert adjusted the wooden crossbars holding up a weak section of tomato plants. Margaret trimmed dead leaves and labeled trays with notes of the plant type and harvest date.
Alex's eyes wandered to the distant road. Mist curled like smoke along the edges. Then he saw it: a faint, dark figure.
It was too far to make out clearly, but it moved in a jerky, uncertain way.
He froze. Robert noticed and squinted. "What is it?"
Alex shook his head. "Not sure. Could be a person… maybe not."
Margaret's hands paused on a vine. "It's far. Should we…?"
"No," Alex said, voice tight. "Too risky. For now, just watch."
They all watched in silence as the figure paused, then disappeared into the mist. No sound reached them, but the unease remained.
By evening, they gathered firewood near the shed. Alex and Robert stacked logs, carefully interleaving large and small pieces to prevent collapse. Margaret carried smaller sticks and twigs for kindling.
As they worked, a low sound drifted from the distance: a moan, barely audible. Alex froze, listening. Robert stopped mid-stack. Margaret's grip on the kindling tightened.
"Probably an animal," Robert said, though his voice carried little conviction.
Alex didn't answer. He scanned the fields. Nothing. But he felt eyes on them—though he knew no one was there.
Later, he checked the fence again, tracing along the east side where the tilt had been earlier. Small, faint tracks had been pressed into the damp soil. They weren't human—too small—but they hadn't been there before.
Margaret peered over his shoulder. "Maybe it's just a stray animal," she said.
"Maybe," Alex said. But he made a note: East fence: track marks, unknown origin. Monitor.
Dinner was quiet, eaten by lantern light. The storm from two nights ago had left the air crisp and cool. Candles flickered, casting dancing shadows across the walls.
Margaret spoke softly. "I keep thinking about the Daniels' farm. And about… what we might see one day. Out there."
Alex didn't answer. He was tallying books in his mind, planning future reading: basic chemistry for disinfectants, botany for edible plants, electronics for radios and simple generators, mechanics for pumps.
Robert finally spoke. "We do what we can here. This house, this yard… it's ours to defend. And we have to get stronger, smarter, and faster. That's all we can do."
Margaret nodded, swallowing. "I know. But the unknown is… scary."
Alex made another note in his notebook: Emotional health = critical. Keep family calm and busy. Knowledge, tasks, and routines are stabilizers.
Night fell, and Alex lit a small lamp in the basement to continue reading. Introduction to Botany lay open in front of him, pages marked with pencil notes. He studied seed types, germination techniques, and soil preparation.
From above, the house creaked under the wind, and occasionally, a faint scrape or thump reached him. Shadows from the lamp flickered across the shelves.
He imagined future projects:
A small water filtration system
Reinforced gates
A rudimentary alarm system using bells or cans on tripwires
Simple tools for blacksmithing or woodworking
All of it required time, space, and knowledge. All of it would make survival easier if the outside world pressed in further.
Halfway through the night, he heard a sound—different from wind or animals. A faint scraping at the fence. He froze, listening.
Another scrape.
His heart thudded. He crept to the window slit, shotgun in hand, and peered through. Mist curled over the fields. Nothing moved, but the fence post near the east side shifted slightly, as if nudged.
Alex took a slow breath. He noted it: Fence: east post possibly tampered with. Check tomorrow. Unknown source.
He returned to his book, shaking slightly, and whispered to himself: "We reinforce, we watch, we learn."
Outside, the world waited.
Inside, they prepared.