You will need to move

Posted on Mon Apr 6th, 2026 @ 9:50am by New York Survivor Amythyst & Survivor Elena Marwick

1,273 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Safe Harbor
Location: Bluff above the beach, Safe Harbor Island
Timeline: Thursday, 30 September 2010 Time: 1415–15h30 (mid-afternoon)

The wind rattled softly against the old Safe Harbor house, carrying the sharp scent of salt through the cracked window frames. Somewhere outside the surf rolled against the rocks in steady, distant pulses. The Storm had rolled in shortly after lunch.

Inside, the house was dim.

A single oil lantern burned on the kitchen table, its yellow light spilling across worn wood and casting long shadows along the walls. In groups, children sat around

Amy stood near the window, arms folded, eyes scanning the land beyond the glass. She’d been doing that more since Fort Mason. Since the boats. Since the guns. Since the reminder that walkers weren’t the only things that hunted.

Across the table, Elena sat wrapped in a blanket, the lantern light warming the deep lines of her face. She watched Amy quietly for a long moment before speaking.

“You’re not meant to stay here,” she said softly so only Amy would hear.

Amy glanced back toward her. “We weren’t planning on it long-term.”

“No,” Elena agreed. “But you will if no one gives you a better option.”

Amy didn’t deny it. The house creaked around them, old wood settling in the night air.

“Twenty,” Elena said.

Amy hesitated this time. “Twenty… now,” she agreed quietly. “All accounted for.”

Elena leaned back slightly in the chair, studying her. “The ones you pulled out.”

Amy nodded once. “Five from Fort Mason. Rotating them between islands, mainland, and boats.” Her jaw tightened. “Organized. Armed.”

“That’s worse,” Elena murmured.

“We disrupted it,” Amy said. “Houseboat. Guards. Weapons.”

Elena absorbed that in silence. Not shock. Calculation. “You disrupted someone’s operation,” she said quietly. “They won’t forget that.”

Amy didn’t argue. She knew they were on limited time.

“That still makes too many people for an island like this,” Elena continued. “Eventually someone notices the boat traffic. Or the smoke. Or the orchards getting picked clean. Or they come looking for what they lost.”

Amy exhaled slowly. “I know.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Elena replied gently. “That was supposed to be my generation’s problem.”

Amy moved closer to the table, lowering herself into the chair opposite her.

“You said you knew places,” she said. “Safe ones.”

Elena held her gaze for a long moment. “Yes,” she said finally. “But I don’t give those away lightly.”

“I figured. We’re not looking for charity. Just a direction that doesn’t get us killed.”

That earned a faint smile. “There’s a place inland,” Elena said. “Old family land. Quietly reinforced before anyone thought to panic.”

Amy stilled.

“Farm?”

Elena shook her head slightly.

“Looks like one,” she corrected. “That’s the point.”

Amy’s brow furrowed.

“It’s a valley,” Elena continued. “Hidden in the mountains. One way in—old rail spur through a tunnel. If you don’t know it’s there, you pass right by it.”

Amy leaned forward slightly.

“What’s inside it?”

“Working land,” Elena said. “Fields, orchards, grazing paddocks. River feeds into a lake—fresh water year-round. Enough space to live without stripping it bare.”

She paused.

“And a lodge.”

Amy blinked. “A lodge?”

“Three stories,” Elena said. “Built like as a Luxury farm stay/Ski Resort. Library, dining hall, commercial kitchen, rooms enough for seventy if you had to stack people tight. Solar, batteries. Designed to look like something worth ignoring.”

Amy’s expression shifted—interest sharpening into focus. “And underneath?” she asked quietly.

Elena watched her for a moment. “You’re asking the right questions.”

Amy didn’t look away.

“Three levels,” Elena said at last. “Reinforced. Supplies. Systems. Space to survive if the world above stops cooperating.”

Amy let out a slow breath. “That’s not a farm.”

“No,” Elena agreed. “It’s Pine Hollow.” Silence stretched between them for a moment.

Amy nodded once. “How far?”

“Far enough from the coast that noise dies out,” Elena said. “Close enough to back routes that you can move without being seen.”

“Walkable?”

Elena shook her head. “Not with twenty people. Not with animals. Not with everything you’ll need to survive winter.”

Amy tilted her head slightly. “We don’t travel light.”

“I assumed,” Elena said dryly. “Food. Animals. Tools. Clothing. Weapons now, apparently. And people who can’t move fast.”

She leaned forward, elbows resting beside the lantern. “You’ll need wagons. Quiet ones. Rubber wheels. Something that looks like farm junk, not a convoy.”

Amy nodded slowly. “We could rotate loads.”

“Exactly. Stage it. Cache along the way.”

“And the animals?”

“Lead them at dawn. Grain works. Chickens crated. Dogs perimeter. Cats covered.”

Amy exhaled softly. “You’ve done this before.”

“No,” Elena said. “But I planned for people who would.” She reached into her coat and pulled out the black journal, placing it gently on the table.
“This stays with you,” Elena said. “Not the loudest. Not the strongest. The one who listens.”

Amy picked it up carefully. “We’ll protect it.”

Elena nodded. “There’s a pass-card inside. You’ll need it when you reach Pine Hollow.”

The house shifted in the wind.

Amy glanced upward at the sleeping children, then back down.

“We’re not just walking,” she said. “We’ve got boats now.”

Elena’s eyes sharpened. “Then you use them properly.”

Amy waited.

“The yacht carries people,” Elena said. “Children first. Anyone who panics. Keep it quiet.”

Amy nodded.

“The crew boat moves between groups. Keeps things connected.”

“Elena…” Amy said quietly, “we took one from them.”

Elena didn’t react. “Then expect someone to come looking,” she said simply.

Amy’s jaw tightened. “And Lucky Break?”

“Let it be seen,” Elena said. “Make it look important. Draw eyes to it.”

“And the barge?”

“Supplies you can afford to lose.”

“The fishing boat?”

“Scout. Distract. Never predictable.”

Amy filed it all away.

“When you leave this island,” Elena said, “you don’t go straight inland.”

Amy frowned slightly. “We don’t?”

“No. You land first. Somewhere that lets you disappear.” She opened the journal, turning it toward Amy. “There’s a place between Jonesport and Cutler. Hidden unless you know it’s there.”

Amy studied the sketch. “A cove?”

“A hamlet,” Elena said. “Gull’s Refuge.”

Amy looked up.

“Six cabins. Processing shed. Root cellar. Freshwater spring. No roads.”

“We can hide the boats,” Amy said.

“You should,” Elena replied. “Because someone may already be looking.”

Amy nodded. “So Gull’s Refuge first.”

“Yes. It’s where you breathe again.”

“And then?”

Elena closed the journal. “Then you go inland. Slow. Quiet. Over days.”
She met Amy’s eyes. “Pine Hollow is where you stop running.”

Amy let that settle. “Why not go straight there?”

“Because arriving tired gets people killed,” Elena said softly. “And Pine Hollow only works if you reach it ready.”

Outside, the surf rolled. Amy closed the journal. “We’ll do it your way.”

“I hoped you would.”

The island already felt smaller. Temporary.

“Get them off this rock,” Elena said quietly.

Amy stood. “We leave as soon as I can get them ready.” and agree. She was already counting. “Everyone gets one bag,” Amy said. “Layers, not bulk. Socks matter. Everyone carries something.”

The lantern flickered. Amy looked out into the dark. “Tonight I talk to the Council. Tomorrow we stage.”

Elena studied her. Then: “Then you’ll make it.”

Amy didn’t look back. “We have to.”

Outside, fog rolled in. And for the first time since Fort Mason—

Leaving didn’t feel like running. It felt like heading somewhere that could actually hold. Pine Hollow. Now she just had to convince the others.

 

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