Chapter 9 – Cracks and Plans
The morning fog clung to the Carter property like a thin veil, softening edges and muffling sound. Alex stepped outside, boots sinking slightly in damp soil. The barrels were full, the fence tightened from yesterday's work, but he felt the unease that had been lingering for days.
Robert was already at the edge of the yard, inspecting the eastern fence post. It wobbled slightly when he nudged it.
"You see this?" he asked, pointing.
Alex crouched, examining the ground. "Tracks again. Small. Could be an animal… maybe."
"...Maybe," Robert said grimly. "But we can't ignore it. That post's getting braced today."
Margaret emerged from the garden, gloves dusted with soil. "You two planning more work?"
Alex shook his head. "Just reinforcement. Nothing fancy."
But even as he spoke, he wondered how long "nothing fancy" would hold if the world beyond the fields continued to shift.
They spent the morning lifting and bracing the eastern post. Alex measured carefully, cut a crossbar from the leftover wood, and hammered it into place. Robert held the post steady while Alex drilled. Margaret passed nails and screws, silently observing.
When the work was done, the post barely budged. Alex stepped back, hands on hips. "Better. But we still need to check the rest of the perimeter daily."
Robert nodded. "Agreed. And maybe some kind of alarm if anyone—or anything—gets too close."
Alex made a note in his notebook: Future project: perimeter alarm system. He didn't know exactly what it would be yet, but he liked having it written down.
Inside, Margaret had started sorting through the pantry again. She pulled out cans, stacked them in rows, and labeled each shelf with markers on scraps of cardboard. Alex watched, thinking about how they had survived so far with what they had scavenged from Daniels' farm and their own storage.
"Mom, have you checked the beans for moisture?" he asked.
She frowned. "Not yet. Why?"
Alex retrieved the small hygrometer he had bought years ago for one of his experiments. "They need to stay dry, or they'll spoil. A single mistake could ruin months of food."
Margaret gave a small nod, appreciating the attention to detail. "Good thinking, Alex."
After lunch, Alex returned to his library project. He selected Herbal Remedies from the Garden and began reading with a notebook beside him. He jotted notes on plants that could substitute for aspirin, antiseptics, or mild pain relief.
Knowledge Tally Update – Herbalism:
5 common herbs for medicine
2 plants for digestive issues
3 for wound cleaning
Further research needed: poisons, antidotes, more complex remedies
He imagined applying this knowledge someday: drying leaves, making tinctures, keeping small amounts in labeled jars. Even a minor mistake could be dangerous, but he felt confident in the slow accumulation of practical knowledge.
Later, he moved on to a small DIY project: making a simple shelf for storing garden tools. Using leftover boards from the basement shelves, he fashioned a three-tier rack. It wasn't elegant, but it would keep shovels, hoes, and rakes off the floor and organized.
Robert came by to inspect. "Looks solid. You thinking of anything else?"
"Yes," Alex said. "Water pump mechanics. Maybe something for irrigation if the well runs low. And… a tripwire bell for the perimeter."
Robert raised an eyebrow. "Tripwire?"
Alex grinned faintly. "Just a simple warning. Nothing too complicated yet. Something to alert us if someone—or something—gets close."
By late afternoon, a distant sound carried across the misty fields: a vehicle. Not a car from before, but something heavier—engine coughing and sputtering, then silence.
Alex froze mid-screwdriver turn. He looked toward the road, fog thickening. Nothing moved now, but the sound lingered in his chest like a warning.
Margaret appeared beside him. "Did you hear that?"
"Yes," Alex said, voice low. "Someone—or something—is out there."
Robert came up behind them. "Maybe scavengers. Maybe abandoned. We don't know. Stay calm. Don't investigate yet. Reinforce what we have."
Alex nodded, noting it in his book: Engine sound in distance. Unknown source. Stay alert.
Dinner was quiet, punctuated by small noises outside: a branch snapping, leaves rustling, the occasional caw of a crow. Margaret's hands trembled slightly as she passed the plates.
"I keep thinking about the Daniels' farm," she admitted softly. "And the voices… the people we haven't seen."
Alex reached across the table. "We can't save everyone. But we can protect ourselves, and we can prepare for later. That's all we can do right now."
Robert didn't speak but nodded, silently agreeing.
Night brought a new tension.
Alex sat in the basement, lantern casting long shadows across the walls and shelves of books. Introduction to Electronics lay open in front of him, wires and circuits scrawled across diagrams.
He imagined connecting a simple battery-powered buzzer to the tripwire Robert had mentioned. A small alarm that could alert them to intruders. It would take patience, scraps, and trial and error—but one day it would work.
Above him, the wind rattled a window shutter, and a faint scraping sound echoed from outside. His heart skipped.
He crept to the slit between boards and peeked. Shadows moved along the fence line. Small, but enough to make him tighten his grip on the shotgun.
Nothing came closer. After several tense minutes, he returned to the basement table.
He jotted notes:
Fence east: reinforced. Track marks continue. Possible human or animal. Tripwire alarm to test soon.Observation: Mist and darkness are both allies and enemies—they obscure movements, but hide threats too.
Sleep came fitfully. Every noise outside made him stir. The distant sound of the engine in the morning hadn't faded from his mind. He dreamed of shadows stretching across the field, of faint voices calling from nowhere, and of books stacked high like walls that could shield them from the world.
By dawn, the mist had lifted slightly. Alex joined his parents outside to continue perimeter checks. He inspected the east fence again: nothing new, but small indentations in the dirt suggested someone—or something—had been closer than they realized.
Margaret checked the garden. "Plants survived the night. No frost yet."
Robert measured boards for another DIY project: a simple lever system to keep the basement door barred from inside.
Alex made another note: Knowledge + DIY = security. One feeds the other.
By mid-morning, they returned to work on small tasks: tightening loose screws, checking rainwater barrels, adjusting the seed trays to avoid moisture damage.
Alex picked up Basic Physics for Beginners and began re-reading sections on mechanical advantage. He imagined pulleys, levers, and gears—how they might make lifting heavy logs easier or operate the tripwire alarm more efficiently.
He smiled faintly. Even if the world outside encroached slowly, each small project, each bit of knowledge, was building their fortress—one step, one shelf, one idea at a time.
Outside, the wind carried faint noises from the road, distant enough to be almost ignored but close enough to remind them: the world beyond the fence had not stopped moving, and they were not yet entirely safe.
Inside, they prepared.