A Traveller’s Tale

Posted on Wed Sep 30th, 2026 @ 11:10am by Wanderer Brielle Anders

6,262 words; about a 31 minute read

Mission: Wandering About
Location: Brielle’s Farm – Southern Wisconsin
Timeline: August 26, 2010

The rain had come exactly when the forecast said it would. For once. It had started sometime after midnight on the twenty-fourth, first as a soft patter against the windows and then as a steady summer downpour that drummed against the farmhouse roof until morning. Brielle had woken sometime before dawn and lain beneath the covers listening to it. Rain against glass. Rain rushing through gutters. Rain dripping from the old maple outside her bedroom window. Usually, rain after cutting hay would have been enough to keep her awake.
Instead, she'd smiled into the darkness. The hay was in. Every last bale. Safe beneath the barn roof because Walter Miller had decided that Brielle asking one neighbour for help apparently meant inviting half the county. She hadn't been particularly grateful for his interpretation at six o'clock that morning. By midnight, with rain hammering against the roof and thousands of dollars' worth of winter feed safely stored in the barn, she had reconsidered. Not that she intended to tell Walter that. Ever. Now, two days later, the storm had washed the farm clean. The morning sun shone from a brilliant blue sky, catching on thousands of droplets still clinging to leaves and fence wire. The grass seemed greener than it had any right to be in late August, and the packed dirt around the barn remained dark and damp beneath the surface. Puddles occupied every depression in the driveway. The chickens regarded them with deep suspicion. The goats did not. One of the younger goats had already discovered that jumping directly into the largest puddle produced an extremely satisfying splash.

Miranda had discovered the same thing. "Miranda!" The five-year-old froze with one boot suspended over the muddy water. Brielle stood on the porch with a basket of washing balanced against one hip. Miranda slowly lowered her foot. Beside her, the goat stared innocently at Brielle. "Don't."

"I wasn't doing anything."

"You were about to jump in that puddle."

"No."

Brielle raised an eyebrow.

Miranda looked down at her boots. "I was checking how deep it was."

"With both feet?"

Miranda considered this. "Maybe."

"Go feed the chickens."

"But—"

"Before your boots mysteriously fall into the puddle."

Miranda sighed with all the suffering available to a five-year-old. "Fine."

She stomped toward the chicken run. The goat followed. "Leave the goat out of the chicken coop!"

"I know!"

Brielle watched her go. "That child."

From somewhere behind her came Carmen's amused voice. "She was absolutely going to jump."

"Oh, without question." Brielle turned. Carmen sat in one of the old wooden chairs on the porch, Leah cradled against her chest. The baby had finished feeding and was drifting toward sleep, one tiny fist tangled in the front of Carmen's shirt. At five months old, Leah seemed remarkably unconcerned with the increasingly strange world around her. Her priorities remained straightforward. Food. Sleep. Clean nappies. Something interesting to grab. Toby's ears. Toby had rapidly learned to keep those out of reach. The golden retriever lay sprawled across the porch boards nearby, one eye open just enough to monitor proceedings. Midnight occupied the porch railing above him, black tail twitching lazily. Brielle looked around the yard. Carmen's car sat beneath the lean-to beside Brielle's pickup now. It belonged there. That thought came without warning. Only ten days earlier there had been no Carmen sitting on her porch. No baby sleeping beneath her roof. No extra car beside hers. Now Brielle couldn't quite remember what the place had looked like without them. She shifted the washing basket.

"Coffee?"

"Please."

"Thought so." Brielle pushed open the screen door. "Mum!" She stopped. Sebastian came running from the direction of the machinery shed. His boots were muddy.
His jeans were muddy. There was a streak of something dark across one cheek. Brielle stared at him. "What happened to you?"

"What?"

She pointed. "All of that."

Sebastian looked down at himself. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"I was checking the shed."

"With your face?"

Carmen snorted. Sebastian grinned. Brielle tried not to. Failed. "What were you checking?"

"The roof."

Her smile disappeared. "What about it?"

"It's leaking again." Brielle closed her eyes. Of course it was. The machinery shed had been one of the less attractive surprises included with the farm. Structurally sound, according to the inspector. Weatherproof, according to the previous owner. The previous owner had apparently possessed a creative definition of weatherproof. "Where?"

"Back corner."

"Same place?"

"I think so."

Brielle put down the washing basket. "Show me."

Sebastian immediately headed toward the shed. Carmen called after them.

"Coffee?"

Brielle turned around.

"Right."

Carmen smiled. "I'll make it."

"You're holding a baby."

"I've mastered several advanced skills since becoming a mother." Brielle laughed.

"Fine. Mine strong."

"I've noticed."

She followed Sebastian across the yard. The smell inside the machinery shed was a mixture of old timber, oil, damp earth and metal. One tractor occupied the centre bay. Tools lined one wall. Spare fencing materials were stacked along another. A workbench Brielle had repaired shortly after moving in stood beneath the small window. Sebastian pointed toward the rear corner. "There."

A dark stain spread across one section of the roof support. Brielle frowned. "Dammit."

"I told you."

"Yes, you did."

"I saw it yesterday."

She looked at him. "And you're telling me today?"

"It wasn't dripping yesterday."

"Sebastian."

"I thought it was just wet."

"Roof beams generally shouldn't be wet."

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Sorry, Mum."

Her annoyance evaporated. "It's alright."

She reached up and pressed two fingers against the timber. Damp. Not rotten. At least she hoped not. She stepped back. "Looks like another patch."

"I can help."

"I know."

"Can I go on the roof?"

"No."

"But—"

"No."

"I'm eight."

"Yes."

"I can climb."

"Also yes."

"I climbed the barn."

Brielle slowly turned her head. Sebastian's eyes widened. There was a pause. "When?"

"Never."

"Sebastian."

"I mean—I haven't."

"You literally just told me you did."

He backed toward the door. "I think Toby's calling me."

"Toby doesn't talk."

"Maybe he learned."

"Sebastian!"

He escaped outside. Brielle shook her head. "Eight." She looked at the leaking roof. "Eight years old and already trying to kill me." A bark came from outside. Sebastian called back.
"See? Toby!" Brielle laughed despite herself. Then the dog barked again. Different this time. Not the excited bark he used for Sebastian. Not the high-pitched one reserved for squirrels.
A warning. Brielle stepped out of the shed. Toby stood near the porch. His body wasn't rigid, but his attention was fixed on the road. Sebastian had noticed too. "Mum?"
Brielle looked beyond the gate. A faint plume of dust was rising between the trees.

Someone was coming. "Go back to the house."

Sebastian didn't argue. That told Brielle he had heard the change in her voice. "Who is it?"

"I don't know."

"Is it Walter?"

"No." She knew Walter's truck. Knew the sound of it now. This wasn't Ben's patrol vehicle either. And Tom Alvarez's pickup was red. "Inside."

Sebastian hesitated. "Mum—"

"Sebastian." He went. Brielle walked toward the gate. She didn't hurry. There was no reason to. But years of experience had taught her that not knowing who was coming toward you was reason enough to pay attention. Behind her, she heard the farmhouse screen door open. Then close. Good. Carmen understood. The vehicle emerged from the trees. An older green pickup. It was dusty enough to suggest it had travelled considerably farther than Milltown. A small utility trailer rattled behind it. Brielle's gaze travelled over its contents automatically. Camping gear beneath a canvas tarp. Tools. Several plastic storage containers. A large water carrier. Two red fuel cans. A rolled sleeping bag. An axe. And strapped along the top... A canoe. Brielle blinked. A canoe. The truck slowed. Stopped outside her gate. The engine ticked as it cooled. For several seconds, nobody moved. Brielle stayed where she was. Toby came to stand beside her.

The driver's door opened. A man climbed out. Mid-thirties, perhaps. Tall. Broad through the shoulders without looking like someone who spent his time deliberately building muscle. His skin was tanned from years outdoors, his brown hair a little too long, and several days of dark stubble shadowed his jaw. His jeans were faded. His boots were worn. Not fashionably worn. Actually worn. He removed his cap. "Afternoon."

Brielle didn't move closer. "Afternoon."

His gaze briefly dropped to Toby.

"Friendly?"

"Depends."

The man looked back at her. "On?"

"You."

One corner of his mouth lifted. "Fair enough." He didn't reach for Toby. Didn't crouch down. Didn't whistle. Instead, he let the dog decide. Brielle noticed that. "My name's Gareth."

"Brielle."

"I know." Every muscle in her body tightened. Only slightly. But enough. Gareth noticed. His expression immediately changed. "Walter Miller." Brielle relaxed by perhaps half an inch. "He told me your name."

"Walter tells everyone everything."

"I've noticed."

"What exactly did he tell you?"

Gareth leaned one forearm against the side of his truck. "That there's a woman named Brielle living out this way who's too stubborn to ask for help until something's already fallen down."

Her eyebrows rose. "He said that?"

"Not exactly."

"What did he say exactly?"

Gareth thought. "'If you're heading north, stop by Brielle's place. She'll probably have something broken and she'll definitely insist she can fix it herself.'"

Brielle stared at him. Gareth waited. "I am going to kill Walter."

"Would you like me to tell him?"

"No. I'd like it to be a surprise."

Gareth laughed. Toby's tail moved once. Traitor. Gareth looked beyond her toward the machinery shed. "That might be the thing."

"What?"

He pointed. "Your shed."

Brielle turned. "What about it?"

"Roofline." She looked. From the ground it appeared normal. Mostly. Gareth moved closer to the gate but didn't cross it. "Back corner's dipping."

Brielle narrowed her eyes. "You can see that from here?"

"Yep."

She looked again. Now that he'd pointed it out... Damn. "The roof started leaking."

"Today?"

"Probably yesterday."

Gareth nodded. "After that rain, I'm not surprised."

Brielle folded her arms. "And you're a roofer?"

"Forestry."

"That's not roofing."

"No."

"Builder?"

"No."

"Carpenter?"

"Sometimes."

She stared. Gareth smiled. "I spent fifteen years maintaining forestry cabins, ranger stations, storage sheds and anything else nobody wanted to spend money replacing."

"That sounds more useful."

"It usually was."

He nodded toward the trailer. "I've got tools."

"Of course you do."

"Would be a bit embarrassing if I didn't after saying that."

Brielle looked toward the house. Sebastian's face was visible through the kitchen window. When he realised she'd seen him, he ducked. She almost smiled. Almost.
Then she looked back at Gareth. "Walter really knows you?"

"About fifteen years."

"How?"

"Hunting."

"You're friends?"

Gareth considered it. "I wouldn't go that far."

Brielle smiled. "That sounds like Walter."

"He'll tell you we're friends."

"He probably will."

"He lies."

That earned him a laugh. Brielle opened the gate. "Alright."

Gareth didn't immediately enter. "You're sure?"

She appreciated that too. "You're already here."

"True."

"And my roof is leaking."

"Also true."

"But if you make it worse—"

"I'll blame Walter."

"No." She stepped aside. "You'll fix it."

Gareth grinned. "Fair enough."

Within twenty minutes, Sebastian had completely forgotten that Gareth was a stranger. Brielle had not. She watched him. Not obviously. But she watched. The way he moved. The way he spoke to Sebastian. The way he behaved around Carmen when she eventually came outside carrying Leah. The way he reacted to Miranda appearing with a chicken tucked beneath one arm. People revealed themselves in small moments. Myles had taught her that. She hated that he had taught her anything useful. Gareth set a ladder against the machinery shed.
Sebastian stood beside it. "What are you doing?"

"Going up."

"Can I come?"

"No."

Sebastian frowned. "Why?"

"Because your mother would kill me."

Sebastian glanced toward Brielle. She smiled sweetly. "He's learning."

"But I'm good at climbing."

"So I've recently discovered."

Sebastian's face changed. Gareth looked between them. "I'm staying out of that."

"Wise man." Gareth climbed. Sebastian immediately moved around the side of the ladder so he could see. "What can you see?"

"A roof."

"Mum said it's leaking."

"It is."

"Can you fix it?"

"Probably."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Give me a minute."

Sebastian gave him approximately six seconds.

"Do you know yet?"

Brielle laughed.

Gareth looked down. "Does he ever stop?"

"No."

"Mum!"

"What?"

"I stop."

"When?"

Sebastian thought about it. "When I'm asleep."

"Exactly."

Gareth chuckled and returned to inspecting the roof. He worked methodically, checking each sheet and the flashing around the damaged section before climbing down again.
"Good news and bad news." Brielle wiped her hands against her jeans.

"Bad."

"Two sheets are finished."

"Finished as in?"

"Replace them."

She sighed. "Good news?"

"The structure underneath looks solid."

"Looks?"

"I need to take the sheets off to be certain."

He pointed toward one section. "You've got water coming in here. It runs along the underside and drops back there."

"Which is why I kept patching the wrong place."

"Probably."

Brielle glared at the roof. "Excellent."

Gareth smiled. "I've got some sealant."

"Why?"

"Because apparently I was destined to repair your roof."

"No, seriously."

"I picked some up yesterday."

"For what?"

"My own supplies." He shrugged. "I tend to carry things I might need."

Brielle looked toward his trailer. Fuel. Water. Tools. Camping equipment. A canoe. "Apparently."

Sebastian pointed to the gutter. "What about that?"

Gareth followed his finger. "What about it?"

"It's bent."

Gareth looked more carefully. Then walked several steps sideways. "Huh."

Sebastian looked pleased.

"You're right."

Brielle examined it. She hadn't noticed.

Gareth looked down at Sebastian. "Good eye."

Sebastian practically glowed. "I help Mum fix stuff."

"I can see that."

"We fixed the chicken coop."

"Did you?"

"And the goat fence."

"Sebastian helped with the goat fence," Brielle corrected.

"I hammered."

"Three nails."

"Four."

"One was bent."

"It still counts."

Gareth nodded gravely. "Definitely counts."

Sebastian beamed. Brielle pointed at Gareth. "Do not encourage him."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He picked up a roofing square.

Sebastian immediately noticed. "What's that?"

And so it began. The next hour was filled with questions. What was that? Why did he need it? What did it do? Why was it shaped that way? Why did the chalk line have chalk inside it?
How did it make a straight line? Why couldn't he just use a ruler? What happened if the roof wasn't straight? Had Gareth ever fallen off a roof? Had he ever fixed a cabin? Had he ever seen a bear? Had he ever been attacked by a bear? Had he ever climbed a mountain? Did he sleep in the forest? Why did he have a canoe? Could the canoe fit in the creek?

At that question, Miranda suddenly appeared. "We have a creek."

Gareth looked down from the roof. "So I've heard."

Miranda pointed toward his trailer. "Can we use your canoe?"

"No," Brielle answered.

Miranda frowned. "I asked him."

"And I'm answering."

"It's his canoe."

"And my creek."

Gareth looked between mother and daughter. "I feel like I should stay out of this."

"Yes," Brielle said.

"No," Miranda said simultaneously.

Carmen burst out laughing. She was sitting beneath the oak with Leah on a quilt beside her. The baby lay on her back beneath the shade, kicking her legs and staring upward at leaves moving in the breeze. Toby lay nearby. Every few minutes Leah made a small noise and Toby lifted his head to check her. Miranda turned to Carmen. "Do you think the canoe would fit?"

"Absolutely not getting involved."

"Everybody's boring."

Miranda wandered back toward the chickens.

Gareth watched her go. "She's something."

"That's one word."

"You've got good kids." The comment was casual. Simple.

Brielle looked at him. "Yeah." She watched Sebastian handing Gareth a tool. "I do."

The damaged roofing sheets came away shortly before lunch. Gareth had been right. The timber underneath was damp but structurally sound. Brielle stood on the ladder examining it while Gareth worked above her. "You got lucky."

"I prefer skilled."

"This isn't skill."

"I bought a farm with a mostly intact roof."

"That's definitely luck."

She looked up. "You're very irritating for someone receiving free coffee."

"I haven't received any coffee yet."

"Then perhaps you should reconsider your attitude."

From below came Carmen's voice. "Coffee!"

Gareth looked down at Brielle. "Perfect timing."

"Don't get used to it."

They took a break beneath the oak.

Carmen had brought out coffee, lemonade and sandwiches. Leah was awake now. Carmen sat with the baby propped against her thighs while Leah concentrated intensely on attempting to capture her own toes. Gareth sat several feet away. He looked at the baby. Leah stopped trying to eat her foot. She stared at him. Gareth stared back. "Hello."

Leah's brow furrowed.

"That's not promising."

Carmen smiled. "She's deciding."

"About?"

"Whether you're acceptable."

"How long does the process take?"

"Depends."

Leah continued staring. Toby wandered over and shoved his nose beneath Gareth's hand. Gareth automatically scratched behind his ears. Leah immediately kicked both feet. Carmen nodded. "Toby's vouched for you."

"Good."

"Apparently that helps."

Brielle handed Gareth coffee. "You've been travelling?"

"A bit."

"From where?"

"Yesterday?"

She smiled. "Let's start there."

"Illinois."

Brielle paused. The strange reports on the radio suddenly seemed closer. "Where in Illinois?"

"Moved around quite a bit. Came north yesterday."

"How was it?"

Gareth took a drink. His answer wasn't immediate. "Busy."

"Busy how?"

"Roads."

"Summer traffic?"

"No."

Brielle sat opposite him. Carmen looked interested now too. "What then?"

Gareth rested his mug against one knee. "People moving around more than usual."

"Going where?"

"North. West. Anywhere, really."

"Holiday traffic?"

"Some." He paused. "Not all."

Brielle heard the distinction. "What did you see?"

Gareth glanced toward Sebastian and Miranda. The children were several yards away. Sebastian was examining the removed roofing sheets. Miranda was apparently giving Leah's discarded wooden spoon to a chicken. Nothing required shielding them from. Not yet. "Queues at petrol stations."

Brielle nodded. "They've been talking about shortages."

"Long queues."

"How long?"

"One station had forty cars."

Carmen stared. "Forty?"

"At least."

"Why?"

"Rumours deliveries aren't getting through."

Brielle thought of Tom Alvarez. "Tom's had trouble getting some things."

"It's not just here."

"Food?"

"Supermarkets were still stocked."

"Were?"

Gareth looked at her. "People were buying a lot."

"How much is a lot?"

"Enough that I noticed." He leaned back in the chair. "Water. Canned food. Batteries. Propane. Fuel cans. Camping supplies." Brielle looked pointedly toward his trailer. Gareth followed her gaze. "I already had most of that."

"And the canoe?"

"The canoe has nothing to do with civilisation collapsing."

Carmen laughed. "Civilisation collapsing?"

"Figure of speech."

"Interesting choice."

Gareth smiled. "Alright. Bad choice."

Brielle wasn't laughing. "You think something's happening."

Gareth looked at her. "I think people think something's happening."

"That's different."

"Very."

"What do you think?"

He was quiet for several seconds. "I think people know something doesn't feel right." That silenced them. A breeze moved through the oak. Leaves whispered overhead. A chicken scratched through damp soil beside the porch. Somewhere in the pasture a goat bleated. The farm seemed impossibly peaceful.

"What doesn't feel right?" Carmen asked.

Gareth looked toward the road. "The quiet."

Brielle frowned. "You just said there were forty cars at a petrol station."

"Not that kind of quiet." He struggled for the words. "People aren't panicking."

"Isn't that good?"

"Usually."

He rubbed a thumb across the side of his mug. "But they are preparing. Quietly. Filling their cars. Buying supplies. Calling family. I saw people loading vehicles like they were going camping for a month."

"Maybe they were."

"Maybe." His tone said he didn't believe it.

Brielle leaned back. "What else?"

"More police."

"Where?"

"Supermarkets. Petrol stations. A couple of intersections."

"Trouble?"

"Some."

"What kind?"

"Saw two men fighting over a place in a fuel queue."

Carmen shook her head. "Idiots."

"Scared people do stupid things."

Brielle understood that. Perhaps too well. "Anything to do with the illness?"

Gareth's gaze returned to her. "Maybe."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I don't know." There it was again. Nobody knew. Every radio report seemed to contain the same phrases. Officials investigating. Authorities monitoring. No cause for alarm.
Isolated incidents. Temporary measures. Stay calm. Nobody ever seemed to say what was actually happening. "I stopped at a hardware store yesterday," Gareth continued.

"That's where you got the sealant?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"People were buying generators."

"People buy generators."

"Six people were arguing over the last two."

Brielle's expression changed. "Six?"

"Store manager eventually called the police."

Carmen looked toward the farmhouse. "We have a generator."

"More than one," Brielle said.

Gareth glanced at her. Brielle immediately regretted saying it. Old instincts. Don't tell people what you have. Don't tell them what you're worth. Don't give anyone information they can use against you. Gareth seemed to notice her discomfort. He simply nodded. "Good." No questions. No interest. Brielle relaxed. Slightly. "How about water?" he asked.

"Covered."

"Food?"

"Covered."

"Fuel?"

"Mostly."

Gareth looked directly at her. "Make it completely."

Brielle's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because if people keep filling up the way they are, stations around here will start running dry whether there's a real shortage or not."

That made sense. Annoyingly. "When?"

"Could be tomorrow. Could be next week. Could never happen."

"Useful."

"It's the best I've got."

Brielle looked across the farm. Her fuel tanks were already reasonably full. She had filled the cans. The tractor had fuel. The pickup had more than half a tank. The SUV had 1/2 a tank.
Carmen's car... She glanced toward the lean-to. "How full is your car?"

Carmen looked surprised. "Three quarters, maybe."

"Fill it tomorrow." Carmen nodded. No argument. Gareth noticed that exchange.

"You've got a good setup here."

Brielle looked at him sharply. "Meaning?"

"Meaning you're outside town, you've got land, animals and water. He lifted both hands. "That's all."

Brielle held his gaze. Then nodded. "Alright."

"I wouldn't advertise it." That surprised her.

"No."

"If things get worse, people remember farms."

Carmen's expression changed. "Why?"

"Food." The word sat between them. Simple. Obvious. Uncomfortable. Brielle looked toward her barn. Her pantry. Her animals. Her garden. Everything she had spent months building because she wanted independence. Safety. A home. For the first time, she saw it through someone else's eyes. Resources. She didn't like that at all.

Walter arrived in the middle of the afternoon. His truck rattled down the driveway towing a trailer loaded with fence posts, wire and several rolls of mesh. Brielle stared as he climbed out. "What is that?"

Walter looked behind him. "Fencing."

"I can see that."

"Then why'd you ask?"

She pointed at him. "Don't."

Gareth, still on the roof, called down. "She threatened to kill you earlier."

Walter looked delighted. "Only earlier?"

"You told a complete stranger I always have something broken."

"He's not a stranger."

"He was to me."

Walter considered this. "Fair."

"You could have called."

"I did."

"When?"

"Last week."

"About Gareth?"

"No."

"Then that doesn't count!"

Walter grinned. Gareth climbed down from the roof. "You two haven't changed."

Brielle looked between them. "How long have you known him?"

Walter thought. "Fourteen years."

"Fifteen," Gareth corrected.

"Can't be."

"It is."

Walter stared at him. "Damn."

"Getting old."

"Watch yourself."

Brielle smiled. There was no hesitation between them. No cautious politeness. No performance. They knew one another. Well. That eased something she hadn't realised was still tight inside her. Walter looked up at the roof. "How bad?"

"Two sheets."

"That's all?"

"Timber's good."

Walter looked at Brielle. "See? Told you he was useful."

"You also told him I'm incapable of maintaining my own property."

"I never said incapable."

"What did you say?"

Walter looked at Gareth. Gareth suddenly became very interested in packing away a drill. "Walter."

"I might've said stubborn."

"You definitely said stubborn," Gareth offered.

"Thank you."

"Wasn't helping you."

"I know."

Carmen laughed from the porch. Brielle looked at her. "You're enjoying this too much."

"A little."

Walter noticed Leah. His expression softened. "How's the little one?"

"Good," Carmen replied.

"Sleeping?"

"Sometimes."

Walter laughed. "That's babies." He looked around. "Where are the kids?" A crash came from behind the chicken coop. Brielle closed her eyes.

"There."

"Mum!"

Sebastian appeared. "Miranda knocked the bucket over!"

"I did not!"

"You did!"

"It fell!"

"You kicked it!"

"It was in my way!"

Brielle looked at Walter. "You asked."

He nodded. "I did."

By late afternoon, the shed was properly watertight. Not patched. Not temporarily sealed. Fixed. Brielle stood back with her hands on her hips and inspected Gareth's work.
The new sheets were secure. The damaged flashing had been replaced. Even the gutter Sebastian had noticed was straight again. Gareth climbed down. "That should hold."

"For how long?"

"Years."

"Actual years or tradesman years?"

He looked offended. "Actual years."

"Good."

Sebastian ran over. "Can I go up and see?"

"No," Brielle and Gareth said together.

Sebastian stopped. "Why?"

Brielle pointed toward the roof. "Because there is absolutely no reason for you to be on it."

"But—"

"No."

"Fine."

He looked at Gareth. "Can you take a picture?"

Gareth considered it.

"That I can do."

Sebastian smiled triumphantly. Brielle shook her head. Gareth began gathering his tools. Brielle reached into her pocket. "How much?"

"No."

She frowned. "Gareth."

"No."

"You spent half the day fixing my roof."

"Had nothing better to do."

"That's not payment."

"I don't need payment."

Brielle's expression hardened. "I don't like owing people."

Gareth stopped. That had come out sharper than she'd intended. He studied her for a moment. Not prying. Just listening. Then he nodded toward the kitchen. "Coffee."

"What?"

"You gave me coffee."

"That's not remotely enough."

"Sandwich."

"Gareth."

"Two sandwiches."

Walter laughed. "He's cheap."

"Apparently." Brielle still held the money. Gareth shook his head.

"Walter's helped me plenty of times." Walter frowned.

"When?"

"Cabin."

"That was years ago."

"Still counts."

"I gave you beans."

"For three days."

"They were good beans."

"They were terrible beans."

Walter looked personally offended. "You ate them."

"There was nothing else."

Brielle looked between them. Then slowly put the money away. Accepting help was still difficult. She wondered if it ever wouldn't be.

"Thank you."

Gareth nodded. "You're welcome." Simple. No debt. No expectation. She could live with that. Maybe. Gareth secured the last toolbox to his trailer.

Sebastian hovered nearby. "Are you leaving?"

"Eventually."

"Where are you going?"

"Haven't decided."

"Do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Not know where you're going."

Gareth smiled. "Sometimes."

Sebastian considered this deeply. "That sounds fun."

Brielle spoke from behind him. "Don't get ideas."

"Mum."

"I'm serious."

"I'm eight."

"Exactly."

Gareth laughed. Sebastian ignored her. "Will you come back?"

Gareth glanced toward Brielle. She caught it. "What?"

"Checking whether I'm allowed."

Sebastian turned.

"Mum?"

Brielle sighed dramatically. "If he's passing."

Sebastian grinned. "There you go."

Miranda came running across the yard. "Wait!"

Gareth stopped. She pointed at the canoe.

"You forgot it."

"No, I didn't."

"You could."

"I'm not leaving you my canoe."

"We have a creek."

"I've heard."

"It's a good creek."

"I'm sure."

"Please?"

"No."

Miranda looked at Brielle. "Mum?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why does everybody hate fun?"

She stomped away. Gareth watched her go. "She's going to be trouble."

Brielle smiled. "She already is."

He opened the driver's door. Then stopped. His expression changed. Not dramatically. The humour simply faded. "Brielle." She looked at him. "If you don't mind some advice."

"Depends on the advice."

"Fill your fuel."

She glanced toward the tanks. "Planning to."

"Do it tomorrow."

That was more specific. "Why?"

"I don't know what's happening." He gestured toward the road. "But I've been watching people for three days. People are scared. Scared people buy things. Then frightened people see empty shelves and get scared too. That's how shortages start even when there wasn't one to begin with."

Walter had stopped loading fence posts. He was listening now. Gareth continued. "Keep the vehicles full. Keep some cash. If you need animal feed, get it. Medicine too."

Brielle folded her arms. "Anything else?"

He looked toward the farmhouse. "If things start getting stranger..." A pause. "...stay close to home."

Carmen had come onto the porch carrying Leah. "How much stranger?"

Gareth looked at her. "When you start wondering whether you're being silly by staying home..."

He climbed into his truck. "...stay home."

Nobody laughed. The engine started. Sebastian waved. "Bye!"

Gareth lifted a hand through the open window. "Stay off the roof." Sebastian grinned.

Miranda shouted from beside the chicken coop. "Bring the canoe next time!"

"I already brought it!"

"Leave it next time!" Gareth laughed. Then the truck moved. The trailer bounced behind it as he headed toward the gate. Brielle watched until the green pickup disappeared between the trees. Dust hung over the road for several seconds after he'd gone. Walter stood beside her. "He likes you."

Brielle looked at him. "What?"

"Gareth."

"I've known him six hours."

"Doesn't mean he doesn't like you."

"Don't start."

Walter smiled. "I'm not starting anything."

"Good." She looked toward the road again.

"Is he always like that?"

"Like what?"

"Prepared."

"Yes."

"Paranoid?"

"Sometimes."

Brielle glanced at him.

Walter's smile faded. "But he's not usually wrong."

There it was. That bothered her more than Gareth's warning. "About what?"

"People." Walter rested both hands on the top of a fence post. "He spends a lot of time travelling. Watches what's going on."

"You believe him?"

"I believe he saw what he says he saw."

"That's not what I asked."

Walter looked across the farm. "I filled our fuel tanks yesterday."

Brielle stared at him. "You didn't tell me."
"Didn't think I needed to."
"Why?"
"Because I'd rather spend money on fuel we didn't need than need fuel I can't buy."
That sounded exactly like Walter.
Practical.
Not panicked.
Just prepared.
"Elsie?"
"Pantry could survive a siege."
Brielle smiled faintly.
"I believe that."
"Generator's serviced."
"Animals?"
"Plenty of feed."
"Good."
Walter looked at her.
"You?"
"Mostly."
"Mostly isn't full."
"Gareth already lectured me."
"Smart man."
"You're both irritating."
"Also true."
Walter started toward his truck.
"I'd fill up tomorrow."
"I will."
"And get anything else you need while you're in town."
"I said I will."
He climbed into the cab.
"Brielle."
"What?"
Walter's expression was serious now.
"If Ben tells you anything's wrong..."
She waited.
"...listen."
The unease in her stomach tightened.
"Why would Ben tell me something's wrong?"
Walter shrugged.
"He's the sheriff."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
He started the engine.
"Just saying."
"Walter."
But he only lifted one hand through the window.
"See you tomorrow."
She watched him drive away.
For the second time that afternoon, dust settled over the empty road.

That evening, the farm seemed quieter than usual.
Maybe Brielle was imagining it.
The goats had settled.
The chickens were locked away.
The horses stood near the far fence.
Cicadas buzzed in the trees.
Somewhere beyond the property, another farm's dog barked twice and fell silent.
Normal sounds.
Normal night.
Inside, Carmen bathed Leah in the kitchen sink while Miranda stood on a chair beside her providing entirely unnecessary instructions.
"Don't get soap in her eyes."
"I won't."
"She doesn't like soap in her eyes."
"I know."
"How?"
"Because nobody likes soap in their eyes."
Miranda considered that.
"Oh."
Sebastian sat at the table with a torch disassembled in front of him.
Brielle stopped.
"Why is that in pieces?"
"I'm checking the batteries."
"You need to dismantle the entire torch to check the batteries?"
"No."
"Then why did you?"
Sebastian looked at the pieces.
"I wanted to see how it worked."
Of course he did.
"Can you put it back together?"
"Yes."
Brielle waited.
Sebastian added, less confidently, "Probably."
She sighed.
"Do that first."
"Okay, Mum."
Brielle opened the pantry.
She wasn't sure why.
She knew what was in it.
Flour.
Rice.
Pasta.
Beans.
Canned vegetables.
Preserves.
Sugar.
Salt.
Cooking oil.
Powdered milk.
Coffee.
Tea.
Baby formula for emergencies.
Nappies.
Cleaning supplies.
Medicine.
She opened another cupboard.
Batteries.
Candles.
Matches.
First-aid supplies.
She checked the refrigerator.
Then the freezer.
Then felt ridiculous.
Carmen noticed.
"You're inventorying."
"No."
"You're staring at canned beans."
"I'm thinking."
"About canned beans?"
Brielle closed the pantry.
"Gareth."
Carmen nodded.
"Me too."
"He's one man."
"Who drove through Illinois yesterday."
"People panic."
"They do."
"Fuel shortages happen."
"Yep."
"Stores get busy."
"Absolutely."
Brielle looked at her.
Carmen smiled faintly.
"We're very convincing."
"Extremely."
Brielle leaned against the counter.
Tomorrow she needed feed.
A few groceries.
Fuel.
She could stop at Evelyn's clinic.
Maybe talk to Ben if she saw him.
That wasn't panic.
That was errands.
Normal errands.
She looked toward the children.
Sebastian had somehow managed to reassemble the torch.
He flicked it on.
A bright beam hit Brielle directly in the face.
"Sebastian."
"Sorry!"
He immediately pointed it downward.
Miranda laughed.
Leah squealed at the sudden light.
Carmen smiled.
For a few seconds, the kitchen was exactly what Brielle wanted it to be.
Warm.
Noisy.
Safe.
Family.
Her family had somehow grown without her noticing.
Not just Sebastian and Miranda anymore.
Carmen.
Leah.
Walter and Elsie just down the road.
Evelyn in town.
Ben.
People she trusted.
Or was learning to.
People who knew where she lived.
People who would notice if something happened.
Once, that idea would have terrified her.
Now it felt like security.
Brielle reached over and switched on the radio.
"...continuing reports of illness across several states..."
She stopped.
Carmen looked toward it.
The announcer's voice remained calm.
Professional.
Almost aggressively normal.
"...health authorities continue to advise there is no evidence of widespread risk to the general public..."
Brielle folded her arms.
"...several hospitals have requested residents avoid emergency departments unless requiring urgent medical attention due to unusually high patient numbers..."
Static crackled briefly.
"...reports of violent behaviour associated with fever and confusion remain under investigation..."
Carmen looked at Brielle. "Violent behaviour?"

Brielle didn't answer. The announcer continued. "...authorities are asking the public not to circulate unverified rumours online or through social media..." Then came the weather.
As though nothing unusual had been said at all. Tomorrow would be warm. Clear skies. Light winds. Chance of afternoon cloud. Brielle switched the radio off. Silence filled the kitchen.

Sebastian looked up. "Mum?"

She turned. "Yeah?"

"Is something wrong?" That was the question. The one children somehow always asked when adults were trying hardest to pretend everything was fine. Brielle looked at her son.

Eight years old. Smart enough to know when she was worried. Young enough that he shouldn't have to be. "No." She smiled. "Nothing we need to worry about tonight."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Sebastian nodded. "Okay."

"Finish putting that torch back together."

"I did."

"Then go brush your teeth."

He groaned. "Mum."

"Teeth."

"Fine." He headed upstairs.

Miranda immediately climbed down from her chair. "Do I have to?"

"Yes."

"But I brushed them yesterday."

Carmen laughed. Brielle pointed toward the stairs. "Go." Miranda trudged after her brother. Brielle waited until they were gone. Then looked at Carmen.

"Tomorrow, we fill the cars."

Carmen nodded. "Okay."

"I'll get more feed."

"Okay."

"And anything else we're low on."

Another nod. Brielle hesitated. "Not because Gareth scared us."

"Of course not."

"We need those things anyway."

"Absolutely."

"And Walter's overreacting."

"Clearly." Brielle stared at her. Carmen's mouth twitched.

"Stop agreeing with me."

"I thought I was helping."

"You aren't."

Carmen laughed.

Brielle did too.

It helped.

A little.

Later, after the children were asleep and Carmen had taken Leah upstairs, Brielle stepped outside. Toby followed. The night air was warm against her skin. The farm stretched into darkness. Moonlight silvered the roof Gareth had repaired. The barn stood solid beyond it. The fields were dark. The gate was closed. Brielle walked toward it. She didn't know why. When she reached it, she rested both hands on the timber. Beyond lay the road to Milltown. Beyond Milltown, Madison. Illinois. Chicago. Cities filled with people buying generators. Queues at petrol stations. Hospitals asking people to stay away. Police outside supermarkets. When you start wondering whether you're being silly by staying home... stay home. Brielle looked toward the road. Tomorrow she would go into town. She would fill the pickup. Fill up her SUV. Fill Carmen's car. Buy feed. Groceries. Medicine. Whatever else seemed sensible. She would talk to Evelyn.

Maybe Ben. Then she'd come home. There was nothing wrong with being prepared. She knew that better than most. Behind her, the farmhouse windows glowed warmly against the darkness. Sebastian slept upstairs. Miranda too. Carmen and Leah were safe beneath her roof. Toby leaned against her leg. Brielle rested a hand on his head. "We're alright." His tail moved. She wasn't sure whether she was telling him or herself. "We're alright." Far to the south, traffic was beginning to thicken on roads leading away from Chicago. Emergency departments were overflowing.

Police dispatchers were logging more calls than officers could answer. Ambulances were moving from hospital to hospital searching for somewhere willing to take patients. And scattered among ordinary emergency calls were reports nobody yet knew how to classify. Assault. Bite. Unresponsive person. Violent patient. Body missing. Patient revived. The words had not yet formed a pattern. Not officially. Not publicly. Not here. Brielle closed the gate latch. She stood there for another moment. Then, after a hesitation she couldn't quite explain, she slid the heavier bolt across as well. Metal scraped against metal. The gate was locked. Toby looked up at her. "Just for tonight." Brielle turned toward the house.Behind her, the road remained empty. Ahead, warm light spilled from the kitchen windows. Home. Safe. For now.

 

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