The First One

Posted on Fri Oct 2nd, 2026 @ 1:04pm by Wanderer Brielle Anders

4,164 words; about a 21 minute read

Mission: Wandering About
Location: Brielle’s Farm – Southern Wisconsin
Timeline: September 2, 2010

Toby found her first. The golden retriever had been restless since breakfast. At first, Brielle ignored it. Toby had spent the morning moving between the kitchen and the front door, occasionally stopping in the hall with his head tilted, listening to something nobody else could hear. Then he'd return to Brielle. Look at her. Walk back toward the door. Look at her again. By half past eight, it was becoming irritating. By nine, he had started whining. Brielle looked up from the kitchen counter. "What is wrong with you today?"

Toby immediately trotted toward the front door. "No."

He looked back. “Don't look at me like that." His tail dropped. "You're not wandering outside the fence anymore." Another whine. "You've already been out."

From the kitchen table, Sebastian looked up from the maths workbook in front of him. "Maybe he needs to pee."

"He was outside twenty minutes ago."

"Maybe he needs to pee again."

Miranda nodded seriously from beside him. "Sometimes I do."

Carmen snorted into her coffee. Brielle looked between all three of them. "I've been outnumbered."

"Yep," Sebastian said.

"Traitor."

He smiled.

Toby didn't. He remained at the door. Listening. His ears moved. Once. Twice. Then he barked. One sharp, deep sound. Not the enthusiastic bark he gave Walter's truck. Not the offended bark he occasionally directed at livestock behaving improperly. A warning.
Every trace of amusement vanished. Brielle straightened. Toby barked again. "Stay here."

Sebastian immediately pushed back his chair. "Mum—"

"Stay." Something in her voice stopped him. Brielle crossed quickly to the security monitor. Carmen was already behind her, Leah resting against one shoulder. Brielle cycled through the feeds. Barn. Nothing unusual. Rear pasture. Cattle. Garden.
Empty. Western fence. Nothing. Driveway. Empty. Front gate. She stopped. For several seconds she wasn't sure what she was looking at. Someone stood beside the road. A woman. She was perhaps fifty yards from the gate, moving slowly along the outside of the fence. Stopping. Starting again. Stopping. Her movements were strange. Not drunk exactly. Not limping. Almost as though she kept forgetting what direction she was supposed to be travelling. "Brielle?"

"I see her."

Carmen leaned closer. "Do you know her?" The camera image wasn't perfect. Brielle squinted. Pale blue cardigan. Long grey skirt. White shoes. Something about the combination tugged at her memory. Then recognition came. "Mrs Reed."

"Who?"

"Margaret Reed."

Brielle pointed vaguely south. "She lives about three miles down." Or had. Brielle immediately rejected the thought. She still lived there. As far as Brielle knew. She'd met Margaret earlier that summer after hearing she'd been having trouble with a generator.
Margaret had insisted Brielle leave with strawberry preserves afterward because, apparently, nobody was allowed to visit her house and go home empty-handed.
She'd once spent almost twenty minutes talking to Miranda about hummingbirds. Miranda had been delighted. Brielle had barely escaped with one jar of jam rather than six. Carmen stared at the monitor. "What's she doing here?"

"I don't know."

Mrs Reed continued along the fence. Slowly. Wrongly. Toby growled. Brielle looked down. The fur along his spine had begun to rise. She picked up the handheld radio Walter had given her. "Walter?"

Static. She tried again. "Walter, you there?" Nothing. Too far. Wrong terrain. Maybe he was in a barn. Maybe the radio wasn't reaching. The telephone remained dead. No sheriff's department. No ambulance. No simple number she could call and expect somebody to answer. Brielle looked at the monitor again. Margaret stopped.
Turned. And looked directly toward the camera. Something cold settled in Brielle's stomach. Her face. Even through the grainy image, something was wrong with it.

"Children stay inside."

Sebastian immediately stood. "What's happening?"

"Nothing."

He gave her a look. Eight years old and already completely unimpressed by adults who lied badly.

"Then why do we have to stay inside?"

"Because I said so."

"Mum."

Carmen quietly said, "Brielle."

Brielle looked at her.

Carmen nodded toward Sebastian. He wasn't Miranda. He understood too much already. He had heard Ben. He had heard emergency broadcasts. He had listened when Brielle thought he wasn't. Brielle crouched in front of him. "There's somebody outside the fence."

"Bad person?"

"I don't know."

"One of the sick people?" That stopped her. Sebastian swallowed. "Like Ben said?"

"Maybe."

His eyes flicked toward the monitor. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to find out what she wants."

"I can come."

"No."

"Mum—"

"Sebastian."

He stopped. Brielle put both hands on his shoulders. "You stay here with Miranda."

"What if—"

"If something happens, you listen to Carmen immediately." His expression changed. He understood what she meant. "Okay."

"Immediately."

"I will."

"Good."

She stood. Miranda appeared at his elbow. "Who's outside?"

Sebastian opened his mouth. Brielle cut him off. "Mrs Reed."

"The jam lady?"

Brielle looked at her.

"Yes."

Miranda smiled. "Can she come in?"

"No."

The answer came too fast. Miranda's smile disappeared. "Why?"

"Because I need to talk to her first."

"But—"

"Stay with Sebastian."

Miranda frowned. Sebastian took her hand. "I'll show you my tractor."

"I don't want your tractor."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I—"

"Miranda."

Something in his voice apparently worked. She followed him. Brielle caught his eye. Thank you. Sebastian nodded. Eight. Only eight. And already helping her keep his little sister away from something he didn't understand. Brielle hated this. Carmen caught her arm as she reached the back hallway. "Don't open the gate."

"I wasn't planning to."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

Brielle reached for the pistol. She had carried it outside every time she'd left the house since Ben's visit. Yesterday, it had felt almost ridiculous. A gun at her hip while feeding goats. A gun while checking fencing. A gun while walking between farmhouse and barn. This morning it didn't feel ridiculous at all. She checked it. Then looked down at Toby. "Stay with me." He didn't need telling.
________________________________________

By the time Brielle approached the front entrance, Mrs Reed had reached the gate. Brielle kept twenty feet between them. Toby walked beside her. Not ahead. Not pulling. Beside. His ears were flat. The fur along his back stood upright. Brielle had never seen him behave like this. "Margaret?"

Nothing. Mrs Reed stood outside the gate with her head hanging forward. "Mrs Reed?"

No response. Brielle took another step. Then she saw the blood. There was a lot. Too much. The pale blue cardigan was soaked down one side. One sleeve had been torn almost completely away. Dark stains covered her skirt. Her exposed arm was mottled with bruising. "Margaret?" The woman's head lifted. Brielle stopped breathing. Her skin was grey. Not pale. Grey. Her eyes were clouded. Her mouth hung partly open. Blood covered her chin. There was dried blood across her throat. Something had torn into the flesh beneath the ruined sleeve. Brielle's stomach turned. "Margaret, can you hear me?"
Nothing. "Mrs Reed?" The woman's eyes seemed to settle on Brielle. Then she moved.

Fast. Margaret slammed into the gate. Brielle jumped backwards. Toby exploded. Barking. Snarling. Every hair along his spine standing upright. "Jesus!" Margaret clawed between the metal bars. Her fingers opened and closed. Reaching. Grabbing. Her teeth snapped together. Brielle stared. This wasn't someone confused by fever. This wasn't delirium. This wasn't anything she'd ever seen. "Margaret!" Nothing. No recognition. No fear. No confusion. The woman who'd given her strawberry preserves wasn't there. There was only hunger. Toby lunged. Brielle caught his collar. "No!"

He strained against her. Margaret reacted instantly to the movement. Her attention snapped toward the dog. Her jaw worked. Brielle dragged Toby back. "Stay!" He snarled. Margaret threw herself against the gate again. Metal rattled. Again. Again. Again. She didn't seem to feel it. One arm bent strangely when she hit the bars. Broken, maybe. Margaret didn't react. Ben's voice returned to Brielle with terrible clarity.

'He was dead. Ten minutes later he sat up. I shot him. He kept coming'

Brielle's hand moved toward the pistol. Her fingers closed around the grip. Until this moment there had still been a part of her that hadn't believed Ben. Not completely. How could she? People didn't die and get back up. Bullets stopped people. Dead bodies stayed dead. Those were facts. Fundamental ones. Then Margaret Reed slammed herself into Brielle's gate and snapped her teeth at Toby. Brielle drew the pistol. Her hands trembled. "Margaret." Nothing. Mrs Reed clawed through the bars. Brielle's eyes burned. "I'm sorry."

She raised the weapon. Aimed. Pulled the trigger. The gunshot shattered the morning. Birds erupted from the trees. Margaret jerked backwards. Collapsed onto the gravel. Toby barked wildly. Brielle stood frozen. For half a second, relief flooded through her. It was over. Then she realised where she'd hit. Chest. The cardigan darkened around the bullet hole. Brielle stared. "No..." Margaret's fingers moved. Curled against the gravel. Her body rolled slowly onto one side. Then she began pushing herself upright. Brielle's blood turned to ice. "No." Margaret stood. Unsteadily. A bullet hole in her chest. No scream. No shock. No pain. Nothing. She turned back toward Brielle. And began moving toward the gate. Ben had told the truth. Every impossible word. Brielle raised the pistol again.

Her hands shook so badly she had to lock both around the grip. Higher. Ben had said higher. Margaret reached the gate. Brielle fired. The back of the woman's head snapped away. She collapsed. This time she didn't get up. Silence returned almost immediately. Not even Toby barked. Brielle stood staring through the bars. Margaret Reed lay on the gravel. Still. Completely still. Brielle's ears rang. Her arms slowly lowered. She had killed someone. No. She had killed something. No. That wasn't right either. Because whatever Margaret had become... She had still been Margaret Reed. A woman who grew strawberries. Who made preserves. Who talked about hummingbirds. Who'd once handed Miranda another biscuit after Brielle had already said she'd had enough. Who had been alive days ago. Brielle turned abruptly. She made it three steps.

Then vomited into the grass.

________________________________________

"Brielle?" Brielle wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and straightened. Carmen stood near the porch. Leah was secured against her chest. "I told you to stay inside."

"I did."

"You're outside."

"I'm twenty feet from the door."

Brielle glared. Carmen looked toward the gate. "Is she..."

"Dead."

"Actually dead?"

Brielle looked back. Margaret hadn't moved. "Yes."

Carmen came no closer. "What happened?"

Brielle swallowed. "I shot her."

"I heard."

"In the chest first."

Carmen's face changed. Brielle didn't need to explain the rest. But she did. "She got back up." Silence. Toby remained beside Brielle. Still staring at Margaret.

Carmen whispered: "Ben was telling the truth."

"Yes."

A movement behind Carmen caught Brielle's eye. Sebastian. He stood inside the doorway. Pale. Very still. Brielle closed her eyes for half a second. Of course he'd heard.
The whole valley had probably heard. "Did you kill her?"

There was no lying to him. Not now. Brielle walked toward the porch. "Yes."

Sebastian looked beyond her. "Was she a bad person?"

"No."

The answer came immediately. His forehead creased. "Then why?"

Brielle crouched in front of him. "Because she was sick."

"You said sick people need doctors."

"I know."

"Then why didn't we help her?"

There it was. The question Brielle didn't know how to answer. She took his hands.

"Because whatever happened to Mrs Reed..." Her throat tightened. "...she wasn't Mrs Reed anymore."

Sebastian looked toward the gate. "Was she a monster?"

"No." Brielle said it firmly. "No." She didn't want that. Not monsters. Not something that made killing easy. Margaret had been human. Whatever had happened to her mattered precisely because she'd once been somebody. "She was a person who got very, very sick."

"Can she get better?"

Brielle looked toward Carmen. Then back at him. "No."

His eyes filled. "So everyone who gets sick dies?"

"I don't know." It was the worst answer. But it was the truth. Sebastian looked down. Brielle pulled him into her arms. For a moment, he resisted. Then his arms went around her neck. "Mum?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we going to get sick?"

Brielle closed her eyes. "I don't know exactly how people are getting sick yet."

He held her tighter. "So we could?"

"We're going to be careful."

"That's not what I asked."

Brielle almost laughed. Almost cried. "You're right." She leaned back enough to look at him. "Yes. It's possible." He looked terrified. "But that's why we have rules."

“Gate stays locked."

"Yes."

"Don't touch sick people."

"Yes."

"Tell you if someone gets bitten."

Brielle's chest tightened. "Immediately."

He nodded. Miranda appeared behind him. "Why is Sebastian crying?"

Sebastian quickly wiped his face. "I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"Your eyes are wet."

"Miranda."

She looked at Brielle. "Did Mrs Reed go home?" The question hit harder than the gunshot. Brielle stood.

Carmen moved closer. "I'll take them inside."

Miranda frowned. "Why?"

"We're going to have lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

"That's unfortunate.” Carmen held out her hand. Miranda hesitated. Then took it.

Sebastian followed. Before going inside, he turned back toward Brielle. "Mum?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't go outside the gate."

Brielle looked toward Margaret. "I won't." Not yet.
________________________________________

Brielle waited. An hour. Then two. Mrs Reed didn't move. She watched from the security monitor. Front gate. Body. Nothing. At one point, a crow landed on the fence. Brielle immediately chased it away from inside the boundary. She didn't know why. It felt wrong. By midday, the temperature had climbed. Margaret remained where she'd fallen. Brielle knew they couldn't leave her there. Carmen knew too. Neither said it immediately. They ate lunch in the kitchen. Or pretended to. Sebastian barely touched his sandwich. Miranda talked about Buttercup. Leah kicked happily on a blanket on the floor. Toby wouldn't leave the front hallway. Every few minutes, he walked to the door. Listened. Returned. Midnight slept on a chair as though absolutely nothing unusual had happened. Brielle envied the cat. At one-thirty, Carmen finally said: "We can't leave her there."

Brielle stared at her coffee. "I know."

"Do you want me to help?"

"No."

"Brielle."

"You've got Leah."

"I can put her in the crib."

"And leave the children alone inside while we're both outside the fence?"

Carmen stopped. "No."

"I'll do it."

"You're not doing it unprotected."

"I know."

Brielle stood. She went to the utility area. Heavy work gloves. A thick coat despite the warmth. Safety glasses. A scarf across her mouth and nose. She added rubber gloves underneath the work gloves. Then another layer over the cuffs. Carmen watched. "Do we know if that helps?"

"No."

"Do we know how it spreads?"

"No."

Ben had mentioned bites. Bodily fluids. Brielle had seen blood. A lot of blood. Maybe that was enough. Maybe it wasn't. She wasn't taking chances. Carmen handed her a bottle of disinfectant. Brielle took it. "Thank you."

"I still don't like this."

"Neither do I."

Sebastian stood at the end of the hallway. "You said nobody goes outside alone." Brielle froze. He pointed toward yesterday's rules. "You wrote it."

Of course he had noticed. Carmen folded her arms. Brielle sighed. "Technically I wrote nobody leaves the property alone."

Sebastian stared. "That's cheating."

"It is a bit," Carmen said.

Brielle looked at her. "Helpful."

"Just saying."

Sebastian didn't move. "You told us rules are rules."

Brielle looked toward the gate. Then back at her son. He was right. Damn him. "Fine."

Carmen raised an eyebrow. "I'm not leaving Leah."

"No." Brielle thought. "You stay inside the gate."

Carmen nodded. "I go outside."

"Gate stays open only enough for me."

"Agreed."

"If anything happens, you close it."

Carmen stared. "Brielle—"

"Immediately." A long pause.

Then Carmen nodded. "Okay."

Brielle looked at Sebastian. "Satisfied?"

"Not really."

"Me either."
________________________________________

The gate opened only far enough for Brielle to slip through. Toby tried to follow. "No."

He pushed against her leg. “Toby. Stay." He whined.

Carmen caught his collar. "I've got him."

Brielle stepped outside. The gate closed behind her.

The click of the lock felt much louder from this side.

For the first time since everything began, Brielle stood outside her own fence and wanted desperately to be back inside it.

Margaret lay perhaps fifteen feet away. Without movement... without snarling... without clawing at the gate... she looked smaller. Older. Human. Brielle approached slowly. The gun remained at her hip. She stopped beside the body. Margaret's eyes were open. Clouded. Brielle looked away. The ruined cardigan had once been pale blue. Now it was mostly brown-red. She remembered the strawberries. A warm kitchen. Margaret pressing preserves into her hands. Miranda sitting at the table listening solemnly to a long explanation about hummingbird feeders. "I'm sorry," Brielle whispered. No response. Thank God. She unfolded an old tarp. Getting Margaret onto it was harder than Brielle expected. Bodies were heavy. Awkward. Personal. She tried not to touch exposed skin. Tried not to look at the injuries. Tried not to think about what had caused them. She wrapped the tarp securely. Then dragged Margaret away from the road. Not onto the farm. Not through the main gate. Instead Brielle took her toward an old maple beyond the southern boundary. The ground there was softer. Carmen passed tools through the fence. Brielle dug. And dug. And dug. Sweat soaked through her shirt beneath the heavy coat. Her arms hurt. Her shoulders burned. Every few minutes she looked at the tarp. Just to make sure. Margaret didn't move. Eventually the hole was deep enough. Not cemetery deep. Brielle didn't have the strength for that. But enough. She lowered Margaret into it. For several seconds she stood beside the grave. What did you say? Nothing seemed adequate. "I'm sorry." Again. "I'm sorry nobody came for you." That hurt. Because maybe somebody should have. Maybe Margaret had wandered three miles because there was nobody left at home. Maybe she'd been trying to reach someone she knew. Or maybe whatever had been inside Margaret had simply followed sound. Movement. Life. Brielle would never know. She covered the grave. When she finished, she found a flat stone and placed it beneath the maple. No name. Not yet. She would make something later. Margaret Reed had been her neighbour. Neighbours deserved more than being left beside a road.

________________________________________

Brielle disinfected everything. Tools. Gloves. Boots. Gate. Anything she thought might have touched Margaret. Then she stripped in the mudroom and put her clothes directly into a separate tub. Carmen watched. "Burn them?"

Brielle looked at the coat. "Maybe."

"Seems wasteful."

"So does dying."

"Fair."

Brielle showered. Longer than necessary. Hot water. Soap. Again. Again. Her skin became red. She still felt dirty. When she came downstairs, Sebastian and Miranda were sitting at the table. Miranda was colouring. Sebastian wasn't doing anything. Brielle took a fresh sheet of paper. She wrote carefully. Then pinned it beside the kitchen door.

FARM RULES
GATES STAY LOCKED.
NO ONE GOES OUT ALONE.
NO ONE APPROACHES A SICK PERSON.
NO ONE TOUCHES BLOOD WITHOUT PROTECTION.
IF SOMEONE IS BITTEN — TELL MUM OR CARMEN IMMEDIATELY.
IF YOU SEE SOMEONE OUTSIDE THE FENCE — GET AN ADULT.
DO NOT OPEN THE GATE.

Sebastian read the entire list. Then looked at her. "You changed one."

"What?"

"Yesterday it said tell you. Now it says Mum or Carmen." He nodded. "That's better." Carmen looked smug. Brielle ignored her. Miranda climbed onto a chair to inspect the rules.

"Where's the chicken one?"

Brielle stared at her. "What?"

"You forgot don't eat Buttercup."

Sebastian began laughing. Not much. Just a small sound. Brielle looked at him. Then at Miranda. Then at Carmen. Something inside her loosened. "Fine." She took the pen.
At the bottom she added: DON'T EAT BUTTERCUP. Miranda nodded approvingly. "Good." Carmen started laughing. Brielle looked at the ceiling. "I've had a difficult day." Sebastian smiled. Just a little. It was enough.
________________________________________

Walter's eight o'clock call came exactly on time. Brielle had been standing beside the radio since 7:55. This time nobody teased her. The speaker crackled. "...Miller to Brielle."

She picked it up. "Walter."

"...We're good."

Brielle closed her eyes. That was becoming one of the best sentences in the English language. "Good."

"...You?"

She hesitated. Walter heard it. "...What happened?"

Brielle looked toward the children. Sebastian was in the sitting room with Miranda. Carmen held Leah. Brielle lowered her voice. "Margaret Reed came to the gate."

Silence. Then: "...Margaret?"

"Yes."

Another pause. "...She alright?"

Brielle swallowed. "No." The static seemed suddenly louder.

"What happened?"

"Ben was right."

Nothing. "Walter?"

"...I'm here."

"She was dead." Brielle forced the words out. "Or... she'd died. I don't know. She attacked the gate. I shot her."

Walter said nothing.

"In the chest. She got back up.” Silence again.

Then Walter asked: "...Head?"

Brielle looked down. "Yes."

"...Stopped her?"

"Yes."

A long breath came through the speaker. Elsie's voice sounded somewhere behind him. "What is it?" Walter didn't answer her immediately. Brielle could imagine him sitting wherever they'd set up their radio. Kitchen perhaps. Elsie nearby. His farm dark outside.

Finally: "...You bury her?"

"Yes."

"...Good."

The word nearly broke Brielle. "Walter."

"...Yeah?"

"Don't let Elsie go outside alone."

His answer came immediately. "...Wasn't planning to."

"Lock everything."

"...Already done."

"If someone comes to your gate—"

"...I know, kid."

"No." Brielle gripped the radio. "You don't know." Silence.

Then Walter's voice softened. "...Alright."

"Tell me."

He understood. "...Gate stays shut."

Brielle exhaled. "Good."

"...Eight tomorrow."

"Eight tomorrow."

"...Take care of those kids."

Brielle looked toward Sebastian and Miranda. "I will."

"...And yourself." She didn't answer. Walter sighed through the radio. "...That wasn't optional."

Despite everything, Brielle smiled. “Goodnight, Walter."

"...Night, kid."
________________________________________

After the children were asleep, Brielle and Carmen sat on the porch. No lights. The curtains were already closed behind them. From the road, the farmhouse looked almost completely dark. Inside, the solar batteries were charged. The refrigerator ran. The freezers were cold. Water remained available from the well. The pantry was full. The barn held feed and hay. There were beds. There was room. Leah slept against Carmen's chest. Toby lay across the doorway. He hadn't been entirely himself since morning.
Neither had Brielle. Carmen stared into the darkness. "How many do you think there are?"

"I don't know."

"Ten?"

Brielle said nothing.

"A hundred?"

"I don't know."

Carmen rubbed Leah's back. "What if everyone's like that?"

"Carmen."

"What?"

"I don't know." Silence. A night insect chirped near the porch. Somewhere in the barn, an animal shifted. Then Brielle saw movement. "Wait."

Carmen froze. Far across the valley, near the distant road, a figure moved between the trees. Too far away to identify. Slow. Unsteady. Another appeared behind it. They moved without apparent purpose. Not toward the farm. Not away. Just moving. Brielle watched until the trees swallowed them. Her stomach tightened. Two. Maybe people. Maybe not. Yesterday, Brielle would have wondered whether they needed help. Tonight she thought of Margaret. She thought of Ben. Walter. Elsie. Evelyn. Tom. Gareth. Every person they'd met since arriving. Suddenly she wanted to know where every one of them was. Right now. Not yesterday. Not last week. Now. Alive? Safe? Bitten? Still themselves?

Beside her, Carmen whispered: "We can't help everyone."

Brielle looked at her. It was almost exactly what she'd told Ben. And she'd believed it. Maybe she still did. "No." She looked toward the dark road again. "We can't." Her eyes moved toward the locked gate. "But we can help the ones who make it here."

Carmen looked at her. "Healthy ones."

"Healthy ones."

"And if they're not?"

Brielle thought of Margaret beneath the maple tree. "Then we don't open the gate." The words hurt. But they were necessary. Yesterday the gate had been there to keep danger out. Tonight Brielle understood it had another purpose. It let her choose when to let someone in. Behind them, the farmhouse remained invisible from the road. But inside there was power. Clean water. Cold food. Stored food. Medicine. Beds. A baby sleeping safely. Two children upstairs. A dog guarding the door. A cat who considered civilisation’s collapse beneath her notice. And room. Room for more people. Brielle stared into the dark. Soon someone might arrive at that gate who wasn't dead. Someone frightened. Someone injured. Someone with children. Someone like Carmen had been. Someone who simply needed a safe place. When that happened, Brielle knew what she would do. She would be careful. She would check them. She would keep the children back. She would not open the gate blindly. But if they were alive...
If they were safe... She would open it. Because whatever the world was becoming, Brielle refused to survive it by forgetting why she'd wanted this farm in the first place.
Not just safety. Freedom. Home. A place where fear didn't get to decide everything. She looked toward the dark shape of the gate. That morning, Margaret Reed had shown Brielle what was outside. Tonight, Brielle began deciding what would remain inside. Humanity. If she could manage it.

 

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