Day 9
At exactly 7:00 AM, the sky was soft and bruised with the color of faded lilac, and Xenia was already walking with determined strides toward the northeast gully. Her boots were still damp from morning dew, her backpack tightly secured, stuffed with canned food and bottles of water. The faint sound of birdsong followed them as she led Gabriel and Tenorio into unfamiliar woods.
Her thoughts wandered as they walked. The quiet between them was comforting, but her mind was a swirling storm.
We all sleep in Gabriel's cabin, she thought. No privacy. No space. We survive shoulder to shoulder like livestock in a barn. If we secure new land, I need to build more cabins. Personal ones. Eventually…
Her brow furrowed. She didn't finish the thought. Instead, she focused on the rhythmic crunch of boots against earth.
"I met Conrad two years before this whole mess," Gabriel said, breaking the silence as they crossed a patch of dry thorns. "He's a seed man, always planting something. Had a couple of wild kids too—twin boys, Caleb and Charlie. Tall. Built like trees. Always barefoot, never trusted shoes."
Tenorio chuckled. "Sounds like a proper countryside legend."
"They kept to themselves, but good people," Gabriel continued. "Conrad used to call me when his radio batteries worked. Said he wanted to make Argenta green again one seed at a time."
As if summoned by the memory, a deer darted across their path, startled by their steps.
Before Xenia could react, Tenorio raised his rifle and—crack!—the shot rang out through the trees. The deer fell, twitching once, then still.
"Jesus," Gabriel murmured. "You don't miss."
Tenorio shrugged. "We'll come back for it on our way home."
Gabriel found a long vine and helped Tenorio tie it around the deer's hind legs, stringing it between two low branches to keep it out of reach of other animals.
"I'm impressed," Gabriel said, clapping Tenorio's shoulder. "You'll eat well tonight."
Tenorio just smiled. "We all will."
---
By midmorning, the path opened to a small clearing surrounded by young fruit trees and rows of unfamiliar vegetable plots. In the middle stood a modest wooden cabin, just slightly bigger than Gabriel's, with a square window and a tiny porch.
Gabriel approached first, calling out, "Conrad!"
A moment later, the door creaked open, and an elderly man stepped out. He looked wary—white-bearded, sunburned, and armed with a rake, of all things.
His eyes widened at the sight of Gabriel. "You've got to be kidding me. Gabriel?"
"It's me," Gabriel said, hands up in peace. "It's been a long time. These are my friends—Xenia and Tenorio."
Conrad blinked. "You're alive… but Argenta's dark. No calls. No trucks. We thought the mountain roads caved in."
Gabriel's face dropped. "There's no easy way to say this, Conrad. Argenta's gone. A sickness swept through. The dead don't stay dead."
Conrad stared at him like he was telling a ghost story.
"That's not possible."
"It is," Xenia said quietly, stepping forward. "We've seen it. We've fought it."
Conrad's mouth opened and closed. "But we've had no trouble here. Not one sick person. Not one… walker."
Gabriel nodded. "That's why we're here. Your place may be untouched for now. But it won't stay that way forever."
Xenia looked past Conrad and saw two figures approaching from behind the house. Young men—identical, tall, and tanned from farm work. Both carried hoes and had wary expressions.
"My sons," Conrad said as the men approached. "Caleb, Charlie—this is Gabriel, an old friend. And these are his people."
Xenia met Caleb's eyes for the briefest moment. He gave her a nod—calm, thoughtful, and strangely warm. It made her chest stir, but she pushed it down. No time for that.
"Do you need anything?" Conrad asked, still stunned. "I don't have much. Just the crops."
"We're not here to take advantage," Xenia said, slinging her bag off her shoulder. "But I'd like to trade."
She opened it, revealing neatly stacked cans—beans, sardines, peaches—and four full water bottles.
"In exchange," she said, "I'd like whatever seeds you're willing to spare. Edible vegetables, fruit trees—anything we can grow quickly and store."
Conrad was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. "I'll get what I can spare."
He stepped inside the cabin, and Caleb followed him, but not before glancing back at Xenia.
Charlie stayed outside, watching the sky.
"Still hard to believe," he muttered.
Tenorio stood near him, giving a silent nod of understanding.
A few minutes later, Conrad returned with a small sack and gently placed it in Xenia's hands.
"These are all open-pollinated. You'll get seeds from the next harvest too," he said.
She peeked inside and smiled faintly. It was more than she expected.
Seed Inventory from Conrad:
Tomato (Roma and Cherry)
Okra
Eggplant
Bell Pepper
Chili
Squash (Kalabasa)
Green Beans
Cabbage
Corn (Sweet)
Watermelon
Papaya
Moringa (Malunggay)
Cassava cuttings
Banana suckers
Sweet potato cuttings
Mango seeds
Guava seeds
"Thank you," she said softly.
Caleb stepped closer as she adjusted the sack on her shoulder. "If you plant the squash near the edge of your fences, they'll keep weeds down. And the vines make it harder for anyone—or anything—to move through fast."
Xenia blinked. "That's… good advice."
He smiled a little. "I could show you sometime. If you come back."
She didn't know how to respond to that. Her heart beat once, loud, but she buried it under duty and planning.
"Maybe," she said. "If we're still alive."
He looked disappointed for half a second but said nothing more.
---
As they waved goodbye and began the walk back, Xenia couldn't shake the feeling of peace lingering in that little farm. The wind was gentler there. The trees less broken.
She looked back only once and saw Caleb still watching her from the porch, one hand raised in silent farewell.
"Nice guy," Tenorio said behind her. "Kinda your type."
"I don't have a type," she said quickly.
Gabriel laughed. "You sure? Looked like he was about to hand you a flower bouquet made of sweet potato leaves."
She rolled her eyes but didn't reply.
---
As the trees swallowed them once again, Xenia stared forward.
This place hasn't been touched yet, she thought. But it will be. The infection spreads like wind—slow, silent, and then suddenly everywhere. If I move fast, we can build a fortress before it reaches this side of the valley.
Her jaw tightened.
We still have time. But not for long.
And she walked on, back toward the deer, back toward their future, back to the fortress that hadn't yet risen.