Someone at the Gate

Posted on Wed Oct 21st, 2026 @ 9:52am by Wanderer Brielle Anders

4,672 words; about a 23 minute read

Mission: Wandering About
Location: Brielle's Farm – Southern Wisconsin
Timeline: 05 September 2010

The farm woke noisier than it had the day before, which Brielle would not have believed possible twenty-four hours ago. She had been outside before sunrise, moving through a list of chores that seemed to have doubled overnight. The air was cool enough that her breath briefly fogged when she first stepped outside, but the promise of another warm day was already there beneath it. The sky beyond the fields was beginning to pale, painting the horizon in muted gold while the farm itself came grudgingly awake. Her original chickens were not particularly pleased about the ten newcomers occupying the temporarily separated section beside their run.

Margaret's ten chickens were equally unimpressed about being newcomers. Both groups seemed to regard the wire separating them as a personal insult and had spent much of the morning pacing along opposite sides of it, clucking indignantly at one another. Daisy and Clover were worse. The two sheep had apparently decided the best way to cope with their change in circumstances was to inform everyone within several miles that they were, in fact, sheep. Their bleating had begun shortly after dawn and continued with remarkable commitment. Maggie remained watchful, rarely moving far from wherever Brielle or the children happened to be. The shepherd mix had accepted the farm, but not yet trusted it. Her eyes followed everything. Pip had taken the opposite approach. Within hours of arriving, he had apparently decided Toby was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him. Toby had not yet reached the same conclusion.

The golden retriever tolerated Pip's constant presence with the long-suffering patience of an older sibling who had not asked for one. The cats were another matter entirely. Pumpkin, Margaret's orange tabby, had disappeared into the barn sometime before dawn. Brielle had spotted him once, sitting high on a beam and looking down at the entire farm with the expression of a landlord inspecting newly acquired tenants. Smudge was somewhere inside the farmhouse. Sebastian knew exactly where. Sebastian was not telling anyone. Mabel had taken possession of one of the kitchen chairs as though it had been left vacant specifically for her. Midnight, unwilling to surrender the room entirely, had claimed the top of the refrigerator.

The two cats had spent breakfast staring at one another across the kitchen. Brielle suspected negotiations were not progressing well. "Mum!"

Brielle turned from the water trough. Miranda stood beside the sheep pen wearing pink pyjamas, gumboots and absolutely nothing else remotely appropriate for farm chores. Her hair was a tangled mess around her shoulders, and she had both hands planted on her hips. Brielle stared at her. "Why are you outside dressed like that?"

Miranda ignored the question completely. "Clover doesn't like Daisy eating her breakfast."

Brielle looked toward the pen. Daisy was chewing peacefully. Clover was chewing less peacefully, but there was no actual shortage of food. "They have the same breakfast."

"I told her that."

Brielle folded her arms. "And?"

Miranda looked genuinely disappointed by the sheep's lack of reason. "She doesn't care."

"Remarkably, that sounds like Clover's problem."

Miranda considered this with the seriousness of someone weighing an important diplomatic position. Finally, she nodded. "I'll tell her." She turned back toward the pen. Brielle watched her five-year-old march toward Clover and begin what appeared to be a stern discussion about breakfast etiquette. Despite herself, Brielle smiled. Walter had been right. Happy livestock probably did matter. She just hadn't expected to become personally responsible for the emotional wellbeing of quite so many of them. She finished checking the trough and headed toward the house. Yesterday's salvage still occupied part of the workshop. Margaret's spinning wheel had been moved carefully into a dry corner, with boxes of wool, carders, shears and knitting supplies stacked nearby. The preserving equipment had gone into the kitchen and cellar. Seeds, gardening supplies and tools had been sorted into rough groups but had not yet been properly inventoried.

There simply hadn't been enough hours in the day. That could wait. Security couldn't. The cameras had become part of Brielle's morning routine almost without her noticing. Feed the animals. Check the water. Check the garden. Check the batteries. Check the solar system. Check the cameras. Then check the cameras again because, apparently, paranoia was now another farm chore. When Brielle stepped into the kitchen, Carmen was already at the table folding freshly washed nappies. Leah lay on a blanket beside her, kicking both legs with impressive enthusiasm and attempting to capture one of her own feet. Brielle poured herself coffee and carried the mug to the security monitor. Front gate. Empty. Western fence. Empty. Barn. Pumpkin sat directly beneath the camera. Brielle narrowed her eyes at the screen. The orange cat looked up as though sensing the attention. "Don't even think about it." Pumpkin began washing his paw. Brielle switched cameras. Southern boundary. Nothing.

Driveway. Nothing. Road— She stopped. Someone was walking toward the farm. Every muscle in her body tightened.

"Brielle?" Carmen had noticed.

Brielle leaned closer to the monitor. "Someone's coming."

The nappies were forgotten immediately. Carmen stood and came around the table. "Walking?"

"Yes." That meant something now. A vehicle approaching the property would almost certainly contain living people. Someone walking could mean either. Brielle studied the grainy image. One person.
Male. Backpack. Moving slowly, but not like Margaret had moved. He wasn't dragging his feet. He wasn't wandering. He was tired, certainly. He occasionally stumbled slightly on the uneven road. But he was walking with purpose. Alive. Probably. Outside, Maggie barked. Toby answered. Pip joined them because Pip apparently believed all barking should be a group activity.

"Sebastian!" Brielle called without taking her eyes from the screen.

Her son appeared in the kitchen doorway almost immediately. "Yeah, Mum?"

"Take Miranda inside. Now."

Sebastian heard the tone. He didn't argue. "Come on, Miranda."

"But—"

"Now." Miranda looked toward Brielle, clearly hoping for intervention. Brielle merely nodded. Her daughter followed Sebastian. Good. On the monitor, the stranger stopped. For a few seconds, he stood perfectly still. Then he looked directly toward the camera. Brielle leaned closer. The man raised both hands. And waved. Recognition hit a second later. "No way."

Carmen moved beside her. "What?"

Brielle was already reaching for her pistol. "Gareth."

---

She still didn't open the gate. That was a rule now. It didn't matter that she knew him. It didn't matter that Toby had begun whining excitedly inside the yard the moment Gareth came close enough for the dog to recognise him. Nobody came through that gate until Brielle was certain. Gareth stopped several yards away. He looked considerably worse than the last time she'd seen him. His clothes were dirty and deeply creased, his beard several days beyond scruffy, and one sleeve of his shirt had been torn along the forearm. Dust coated his boots. His backpack looked heavy enough to explain some of the exhaustion in his posture, and there was a rifle strapped across his back. Brielle approached from inside the fence with her pistol held low against her leg. Maggie walked beside her. Toby followed. Pip followed Toby. Gareth looked at the three dogs. Then at Brielle.

"You've multiplied."

Brielle didn't smile. "You're alive."

Gareth glanced down at himself as though checking. "Last I checked."

"Not funny anymore."

The humour disappeared from his face. "No."

Maggie gave a low warning growl. Gareth looked down at her. "That's new."

"Margaret's."

Understanding crossed his face. Brielle didn't explain further. Not yet. His gaze travelled toward the gate. "Can I come in?"

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Bitten?"

His expression changed. So he knew. "No."

"Scratched?"

"No."

"Any blood on you that isn't yours?"

"No."

Brielle continued to study him. "Take your jacket off."

Gareth raised an eyebrow. "Brielle—"

"Take it off." Whatever argument he'd been about to make died when he saw her face. He shrugged off the jacket slowly and held it away from his body. "Shirt up."

The eyebrow rose higher. "Seriously?"

"Very."

Gareth exhaled and lifted his shirt enough for Brielle to inspect his torso from the other side of the fence. "Turn around." He did. No obvious wounds. No blood. No bites. She studied his arms. "Trouser legs."

"Brielle."

"Do you want inside?"

Gareth stared at her for a moment, then sighed and pulled each trouser leg high enough for her to inspect his lower legs. "Happy?"

"No."

He gave a tired half-smile. "Fair."

Only then did Brielle unlock the gate. First the chain. Then the padlock. Then the secondary lock she'd added because one lock no longer seemed like enough. She opened the gate just far enough to let him through. "Come."

Gareth stepped inside. The moment he cleared it, Brielle shut the gate behind him and reversed the process. Secondary lock. Padlock. Chain. Gareth watched silently. "You've been busy."

"You have no idea."

He looked at the additional fencing, cameras and animals scattered across the property. "I might." Toby couldn't contain himself any longer. The golden retriever launched forward. Gareth barely had time to drop his backpack before Toby hit him with enough enthusiasm to send him staggering backwards. "Whoa!" Toby's tail whipped violently from side to side. "Alright! Alright!" Gareth grabbed the dog around the shoulders. "I missed you too!" Pip watched this for approximately three seconds, concluded that Gareth was clearly safe and joined the celebration. Maggie did not. She remained beside Brielle, watching. Gareth finally managed to regain his balance and looked down at Pip.

"And who are you?"

"Pip," Brielle said.

"Of course you are."

"Gareth!" Sebastian appeared on the porch. A moment later he was racing across the yard.

Gareth's tired expression transformed. "Hey, mate."

Miranda followed her brother at a speed Brielle definitely had not authorized. She skidded to a stop beside Gareth. "Did you bring anything?"

Brielle stared at her daughter. "Miranda."

"What?"

Gareth laughed. "Actually..." He crouched beside his backpack.

Brielle pointed at him. "Don't encourage her."

"Too late." He unfastened one of the smaller pockets and reached inside. When his hand emerged, it held two slightly battered chocolate bars.

Sebastian's eyes widened. Miranda gasped. Brielle stared. "Where did you get those?"

"Service station."

"Recently?"

Gareth considered the question. "Define recently."

"Did you steal them?"

He looked offended. "I left money."

"Does money still work?"

"No."

"Then you stole them."

"I left twenty dollars."

Miranda tugged on his sleeve. "I don't care."

Gareth handed her one of the chocolate bars. "I knew I liked you."

For the first time that morning, Brielle laughed.

---

Carmen met them on the porch with Leah settled against her shoulder, one hand supporting the baby's back. Gareth looked from Carmen to the infant. "You must be Carmen."

Carmen frowned slightly. "How do you know?"

"Walter mentioned you."

Brielle glanced at him. "When did you see Walter?"

"Four days ago. I stopped at his place on the way through."

That tracked. Walter had said nothing about Gareth yesterday, but considering everything that had happened at Margaret's, Brielle could hardly blame him for forgetting to mention one visitor from several days earlier. "That sounds like Walter," she said.

Gareth shifted the strap of his pack higher on his shoulder and looked around the property. His gaze moved across the solar panels, the barn, the cameras, the animal pens, the garden, the sheep and the separated group of newly arrived chickens. Then the dogs. "You've definitely been busy."

"Yesterday was complicated."

His eyes settled on Daisy and Clover. "You have sheep now?"

"Apparently."

Miranda stepped proudly beside him. "Their names are Daisy and Clover."

Gareth looked down at her. "Are they?"

"Clover is difficult."

"Clover is a sheep," Brielle said.

Miranda looked seriously at Gareth. "She's both."

Gareth nodded solemnly. "Good to know."

Carmen smiled. "Come inside before Miranda gives you the complete livestock briefing."

"I haven't told him about the cats."

"Inside." Miranda sighed dramatically. Adults were clearly unreasonable.

---

Gareth ate first. Brielle didn't ask him a single serious question until he'd finished two bowls of stew, half a loaf of bread and an apple. Even then, Carmen was the first to speak. She had watched the amount of food disappear with growing fascination. "When did you last eat?"

"Yesterday."

"A meal?"

Gareth paused. "Tuesday?"

It was Sunday. Brielle immediately pushed another slice of bread toward him. "Eat."

"I'm full."

"Eat."

Gareth looked at her. Then accepted the bread. Smudge chose that moment to emerge silently from beneath a nearby chair. The grey cat ignored everyone except Sebastian. She walked directly to him and rubbed against his ankle. Sebastian lowered one hand beneath the table. Smudge pressed her head against his fingers. Gareth noticed. "Another one?"

"Smudge," Sebastian said.

Brielle looked at her son. "So that's where she's been."

Sebastian suddenly became extremely interested in his stew. Gareth smiled. "How many cats?"

"Four now," Carmen answered.

He stared at her. "Four?"

"Midnight was already here. Margaret had three."

"And dogs?"

"Three."

"Chickens?"

Brielle pointed at him. "Don't."

Gareth wisely stopped counting. Only when he had finished eating did Brielle finally ask the question she had been holding back since seeing him on the road. "What happened?"

Gareth leaned back in his chair. For several seconds, he said nothing. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Outside the valley."

He rubbed both hands over his face. "It's bad."

"We know that."

"No."

His eyes met hers. "You know it's bad here." The kitchen went quiet. Gareth had been in northern Illinois when things truly collapsed. At first, he'd tried to head east. That plan had lasted less than a day. The interstates weren't simply clogged with traffic. They were clogged with abandoned vehicles. Cars left sitting with doors open. Vehicles smashed against barriers. Accidents nobody had cleared. Military roadblocks. Families walking between lanes carrying backpacks, suitcases, children and whatever possessions they'd managed to grab before leaving home. "There were thousands of them," Gareth said.

Carmen's hand tightened unconsciously around Leah. "Dead?"

Gareth shook his head. "People." He hesitated. "At first."

Brielle understood what he wasn't saying. "What about the military?"

"Some places."

"Police?"

"Some."

"Government?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know." Gareth reached for his water. "I heard broadcasts saying there were evacuation centres. Then other broadcasts saying not to go to the evacuation centres."

"Why?" Carmen asked.

"Overrun."

Carmen looked down at Leah.

Gareth noticed. When he continued, his voice was quieter. "I stopped using the highways after that." He had travelled north as best he could. Back roads. Logging tracks. Farm roads. Anything that kept him away from larger towns and highways. His truck had lasted until two days ago.

"What happened?" Sebastian asked. Brielle hadn't noticed her son inching closer.

"Radiator," Gareth said.

Sebastian frowned. "I can help fix it."

A sad smile touched Gareth's face. "I had to leave it."

"Why?"

"Because there were too many people around."

Sebastian's expression changed. "Sick people?"

Gareth looked at Brielle. She nodded once. "Yeah," he told Sebastian. "Sick people."

Sebastian hesitated. Then asked the question anyway. "Dead people?"

Silence settled over the kitchen. Gareth looked at him. "Who told you about that?"

"Mrs Reed came here."

Gareth's expression changed.

Brielle spoke quietly. "Margaret."

"Oh."

"I had to shoot her."

Gareth didn't ask why. That told Brielle almost everything she needed to know about what he'd seen. Sebastian looked at Gareth. "Mom went to her house yesterday."

His attention snapped back to Brielle. "You did?"

"With Walter and Elsie."

"What happened?"

Brielle glanced at Sebastian, but there was little point shielding him from a story he already knew most of. "Someone came to Margaret's door injured. She tried to help him. He bit her."

Gareth's jaw tightened.

"She wrote down that she developed a fever." Brielle paused. "And she wrote that she was going to come here."

Gareth looked toward the kitchen window. Maggie was lying on the porch beyond it. The sheep grazed farther away. The new chickens paced their temporary enclosure. "So you brought everything back."

"Not everything."

"Animals?"

"Anything alive that depended on her."

"Food?"

"Some."

"Tools?"

"The things that keep people alive or help us make what we'll need."

Gareth studied her for several seconds. Then nodded. "Good."

Brielle wasn't sure why his approval mattered. Maybe because he had seen what existed beyond the valley. Maybe because yesterday she had still wondered whether taking Margaret's things had crossed some invisible line. "How many of them have you seen?" she asked.

Gareth looked down at the table. "Hundreds."

Carmen went pale. "At once?"

"No." He paused. "Not usually." That wasn't remotely comforting. "They're drawn to noise," Gareth continued. "Engines. Gunshots. People shouting. Anything loud enough."

Brielle committed every word to memory. "They're slow?"

"Most."

"Most?"

"Some are fresher."

Brielle disliked the description immediately. "The head?"

"The head." So that rule seemed universal.

"Anything else?"

"Don't get surrounded."

"That's obvious."

Gareth gave her a humorless look. "You'd be surprised." He glanced toward the window again. "You're isolated here."

"That's one reason I chose the place."

"Fences?"

"Whole property."

"Strong?"

"Livestock strong."

"Not people strong."

"No."

Gareth nodded thoughtfully. "We can improve that."

Brielle caught the word instantly. "We?"

He looked at her. "I was hoping I could stay a few days."

Carmen smiled faintly. "A few?"

"Until I work out where I'm going."

Brielle watched him. "Where were you going?"

The question seemed to catch him completely off guard. Gareth opened his mouth. Then closed it. For several seconds, he simply stared down at the table. "I don't know anymore." There it was. The truth none of them wanted to say aloud. There might not be anywhere left to go.

---

That afternoon, Gareth earned his bed without anyone asking him to. After eating, he rested for less than an hour before appearing outside again. He inspected the fences. Checked the gates. Walked the perimeter with Brielle. He examined the barn, sheds, solar installation and water systems. He asked sensible questions about battery capacity, stored water and the well. He looked over the garden, the feed stores and the various animals now occupying considerably more of Brielle's time. Eventually they reached the sheep pen. Gareth leaned against the fence. "These two came from Margaret's?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing with them?"

"Keeping them alive seemed like a good start."

He smiled faintly. "I meant long term."

"Wool."

That surprised him. "You know how?"

"No." Brielle pointed toward the workshop. "But Margaret did." Inside, she showed him what they had recovered. The spinning wheel. Carders. Shears. Stored fleece. Finished yarn. Knitting needles and crochet hooks. Margaret's half-completed blanket still sat in its basket.

Gareth picked up one of the skeins and ran it through his fingers. "You took all this yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Brielle folded her arms. "That's twice you've said that."

"Because it was."

"I don't know how to use half of it."

"You can learn."

"Walter said exactly the same thing."

"Smart man."

"Don't ever tell him that."

Gareth smiled. Then his expression grew serious. "This is the stuff people are going to stop thinking about."

"What?"

"Not food." He gestured toward the spinning wheel. "How to make things." Gareth looked around the workshop. "People are going to grab tins and fuel and guns. They'll take batteries, bottled water, generators. Anything immediately useful." He picked up one of the carders. "But eventually clothes wear out. Blankets tear. Boots split. Tools break."

Brielle looked at Margaret's equipment. Yesterday, it had felt like preserving part of Margaret. Today it looked different. Not merely memory. Preparation. "We keep it," Brielle said.

Gareth placed the carder down. "Definitely." They continued into the barn. Then Gareth stopped dead. The converted double-decker bus towered in front of him. He stared at it. "What the hell is that?"

Brielle folded her arms. "A bad marriage." Gareth looked at her. She pointed toward the bus. "Converted double-decker. Kitchen. Bathroom. Water storage. Independent solar and batteries. Beds upstairs. Fuel tanks."

He walked slowly around it. "Does it run?"

"Yes."

"How much fuel?"

"A lot."

Gareth glanced back at her. "How much is a lot?"

"Enough that Myles used to brag about its range until I wanted to push him out of it while it was moving."

Gareth laughed. He crouched briefly, examining underneath. "Diesel?"

"Yes."

He straightened. "This thing could be useful."

"It already is."

"How?"

"Storage. Backup shelter. Independent power. Water." Gareth gave her a look. Brielle immediately narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Gareth."

"Nothing."

"Don't start planning anything involving my bus."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking."

"You can't arrest me for thinking."

Brielle looked at him. "There aren't many police left."

Gareth paused. "Fair point." He walked away. Brielle remained where she was for a moment longer. Her eyes drifted back toward the bus. It had carried her, Sebastian and Miranda to Wisconsin when she fled. Myles had never set foot on this farm. He had never built these fences. Never installed the solar. Never designed the security. Never planted the garden. This place was hers. The bus was different. The bus belonged to the life she'd escaped. But every day she used it for herself made it a little less his. And a little more hers.

---

That evening they ate together. Leah couldn't sit at the table, of course, so Carmen kept her nearby in her portable seat while the baby kicked happily and made repeated attempts to grab anything that passed within range of her small hands. Sebastian talked almost constantly to Gareth. Miranda ate half of her chocolate bar and announced that she was saving the remainder "for emergencies." Brielle decided not to ask what constituted a chocolate emergency. Smudge sat beneath Sebastian's chair. Mabel occupied the kitchen doorway. Midnight watched her from halfway up the stairs. Neither cat appeared willing to concede an inch of territory. Outside, Pip barked once. Toby answered. Maggie didn't. Brielle had already learned that Maggie only barked when she believed something genuinely mattered. That made Brielle pay attention when Maggie did bark. For a little while, though, the farmhouse felt almost normal. Crowded. Messy. Alive. Almost. After Sebastian and Miranda were finally asleep, Brielle, Carmen and Gareth sat together on the porch.

There were no exterior lights. No music. No unnecessary noise. The farmhouse could function perfectly well now that the public grid had failed. That didn't mean Brielle intended to advertise the fact to anyone passing on the road. Beyond the porch, the farm disappeared into darkness. Gareth stared across the fields. "You've done well here."

Brielle looked at him. "I've been here since February."

"No." He gestured toward the property. "This. The power. Food. Water. Fences. Cameras. Animals." His gaze moved toward the darker outline of the barn. "You built something that can survive."

Brielle was quiet for a moment. "I built somewhere my children could be safe."

Gareth looked at her. "Same thing now."

She didn't particularly like that. Carmen shifted in her chair. "How long do you think this lasts?" Gareth didn't answer. Carmen tried again. "Days?"

"No."

"Weeks?"

He stared into the darkness. "No."

Brielle's stomach tightened. "Months?"

Gareth finally looked at her. "I think this is it."

Nobody spoke. The insects continued their constant night song beyond the porch. Carmen's voice was quieter when she eventually asked, "What does that mean?"

Gareth seemed to struggle with the answer. "It means I don't think the power's coming back everywhere."

He looked toward the distant dark horizon where towns had once glowed. "I don't think the police are regrouping." Another pause. "I don't think anyone's coming."

Brielle thought of Ben driving back toward Milltown. *There are still people there.* She wondered whether he was still alive. Then Maggie stood. No bark. No growl. She simply rose from where she'd been lying beside the porch steps and stared toward the road. Toby noticed immediately. His head came up. Pip stopped chewing whatever he'd discovered beneath the porch. Gareth saw the change ripple through all three dogs. "What?"

Brielle raised one hand. "Listen."

At first there was nothing. Then a distant sound travelled across the fields. A moan. Low. Almost swallowed by insects and wind. All three adults froze. Another answered. Farther away. Gareth stood. "Inside."

Brielle rose too. "How many?"

"I don't know."

"Two?"

"Maybe." His hand moved toward his rifle.

Brielle shook her head immediately.

"No gunshots unless they're inside the fence."

Gareth looked at her. "Noise."

"Exactly."

A small smile appeared. "You're learning."

"I learn quickly."

Maggie remained fixed on the road. Toby gave a low growl. Pip moved closer to him. They went inside. Brielle locked the door behind them. Gareth checked the windows without being asked. Carmen lifted Leah from her cot. Brielle went directly to the security monitor. She switched to the road camera. One shape wandered along the distant road. Then another appeared behind it. Neither approached the gate. Neither seemed aware that the farm existed. The three adults watched them on the monitor until both shapes eventually disappeared beyond the camera's range. The dogs settled slowly. Nobody else did.

---

Hours later, Brielle woke on the sofa. She hadn't meant to fall asleep there. For a few seconds she didn't know what had woken her. The farmhouse was silent. Not perfectly silent. Houses never were. Timber shifted. Pipes ticked. Somewhere upstairs one of the children moved in bed. The solar system hummed faintly in the background. Brielle sat up. The blanket she'd pulled over herself earlier slipped onto the floor. She checked the monitor first. Nothing. Then she walked quietly toward the kitchen. Gareth was asleep at the table. Clearly not intentionally. His head rested on his folded arms. His rifle leaned safely against the wall within reach. For the first time since he had arrived, Gareth didn't look like a hardened traveller who had crossed a collapsing state alone. He looked twenty-nine. And exhausted. Completely exhausted. Brielle stood there for a moment. Then she went to retrieve a blanket. Smudge emerged silently from the hallway, slipped past her and headed toward the stairs. Somewhere outside, one of the sheep shifted in its pen. The farm seemed to be settling around all its new inhabitants. Brielle returned to the kitchen and draped the blanket gently over Gareth's shoulders. He stirred immediately. "Sorry."

"Go back to sleep."

"I should keep watch."

"You've been walking for two days."

"Brielle—"

"Sleep."

His eyes closed again almost immediately. She picked up the empty mug beside him. Before she could leave, Gareth murmured, "Thank you."

Brielle stopped. "For what?"

There was a long pause. His voice was quieter when he answered. "I didn't know where else to go." Brielle looked around the farmhouse. Carmen was upstairs with Leah. Sebastian and Miranda were safe in their beds. Smudge had apparently chosen Sebastian. Midnight and Mabel were still negotiating ownership of the house. Pumpkin had claimed the barn. Maggie and Pip had joined Toby. Daisy and Clover were secure. Ten chickens that had once belonged to Margaret Reed now slept beside Brielle's existing flock on a farm already adjusting to their presence. Margaret's preserves filled part of the cellar. Her seeds were stored safely. Her wool waited in the workshop. Her spinning wheel stood ready for somebody to learn how to use it. The solar system quietly kept the essentials running.

The doors were locked. Only a few months ago, this place had been Brielle's escape. Then it became her home. Yesterday, it had inherited the things Margaret could no longer protect. Today, Gareth had walked to its gate because he had nowhere else to go. Somehow, without Brielle ever deciding it, the farm was becoming something else. A place where the living came when they needed somewhere safe. She looked back at Gareth. "Then I guess you came to the right place." He was already almost asleep again.

Outside the fences, the dead wandered somewhere in the darkness. Inside, the dogs slept. The sheep settled. The chickens roosted. Four cats divided a farmhouse and barn between themselves. And for one more night, everyone was safe.

TBC

 

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