Hazel
Three Months Later...
The radio crackles at dawn, Cole's voice cutting through the quiet.
"Northern convoy, this is Hope Tower. What's your status?"
I reach for the handset while Travis checks the maps. "Hope Tower, this is Northern convoy. Three hours out with full cargo."
"Copy that. Safe travels, Hazel."
"Thanks, Cole. Convoy out."
Outside, the crew is already moving. Jess teaches Patricia suturing techniques while I prep the medical supplies for today's delivery.
Ken runs maintenance, muttering about a loose belt on ATV-3 that he's been meaning to fix for a week.
Eric scouts ahead, his skills sharp enough now that Travis actually listens to his suggestions instead of just nodding politely.
The convoy has a rhythm now. Everyone knows their role, moves without needing to be told. It's not the same as my old crew, nothing ever will be, but it's good. Solid.
The raider cell that killed my crew was neutralized last month.
Ruby and Mayson coordinated a multi-settlement response that broke their operation—leaders captured, cells scattered, supply routes safer than they've been in half a year.
Tom relayed the news over the radio, and I had to step away from the fire for a few minutes.
Travis found me sitting alone in the dark, didn't say anything. Just sat with me until I was ready to go back.
It won't bring them back. But fewer convoys will get ambushed. Fewer medics will die protecting supplies. Fewer families will wait for people who'll never come home.
That has to be enough.
The grief is still there. Some mornings I wake up expecting to hear Susan's voice. Some nights I dream about Tommy asking questions, his face so clear I can count his freckles. But it doesn't crush me anymore. Just aches, like an old injury that flares when the weather changes.
I've started training two new medics from settlements along our route.
Neither has formal training, but they're learning fast. One's a former vet tech, the other worked as a paramedic before the outbreak.
I teach them what I know, the same way I taught Tommy.
Except this time I make sure they understand how to defend themselves too.
How to shoot, how to recognize an ambush, how to survive when everything goes wrong.
Because it will go wrong. It always does eventually.
But maybe they'll be ready for it.
After breakfast, Travis pulls me aside with that look he gets when he's planning something. I've learned to recognize it—the slight smile he's trying to suppress, the way he keeps checking his pocket.
"Old Pines wants us to establish a permanent northern route," he says. "Monthly runs through winter. Tom's coordinating with three new settlements that need regular supply access."
"That's ambitious. Winter routes are brutal up north."
"Yeah." He pulls something from his pocket. "I'm thinking about making a few long-term commitments."
The ring is simple: copper wire wrapped around a piece of jade. Made by a craftsman in Old Pines from traded materials. Practical enough to wear while working, small enough not to catch on things. Durable.
Perfect.
"Hazel Cooper," he says, "will you marry me? Keep me from taking stupid risks and occasionally save my life when things go sideways?"
I laugh, and it comes out half-sob. "Only if you keep me from spiraling and remind me that living isn't betraying the dead."
"Deal." He slides the ring on, and it fits perfectly. "I already talked to Tom. He says he can do a ceremony any time we're in Old Pines."
"You were that confident?"
"I was that hopeful." He pulls me close. "There's a difference."
The crew erupts before I can respond. Jess whistles loud enough to make my ears ring. Ken grins and slaps Travis on the back. Patricia wipes her eyes. Eric pretends he's not emotional and fails completely.
"Fucking finally," Jess says, pulling me into a hug. "I've been watching you two dance around this for months."
"It's only been three months."
"Like I said. Months." She grins. "I'm claiming maid of honor, by the way. Non-negotiable."
The radio crackles—Tom at Old Pines must have his scanner on, because his voice comes through congratulating us before I even reach for the handset. Then Sierra from Mountain Station. Then Rebecca from Hope Tower. Word travels fast when you're connected to half the territory.
"About time," Sierra says. "Congratulations, you two."
Travis takes the handset. "Thanks. We'll be in Old Pines in four days if you want to make the trip."
"Wouldn't miss it."
I look around at the crew packing up camp, preparing for the day's run.
The ATVs loaded with medical supplies, tools, seeds, ammunition—everything the northern settlements need to make it through winter.
The routes we're building that connect isolated communities.
The network that keeps people alive not through force, but through cooperation.
This is what my crew died protecting. This exact thing: the idea that we're stronger together than apart.
Reggy would've liked Travis. Would've made terrible jokes at the ceremony and given long-winded advice about marriage that nobody asked for.
Susan would've insisted on braiding my hair, probably would've managed to find flowers somehow even in late fall.
Tommy would've asked a thousand questions about convoy operations and wedding logistics and whether we'd have cake.
They're not here. That still hurts. Probably always will.
But I am. And I'm done apologizing for it.
Travis squeezes my hand. "Ready?"
"Ready."
The engines start up one by one. Eric's already a quarter-mile ahead, scouting the route. Jess rides with Ken today, giving Patricia a break from his complaining. The medical supplies are secure, the weapons loaded, the maps marked with the safest path north.
The road ahead is dangerous—always will be. There will be more threats, more losses, more nights wondering if we'll make it through. Winter will be brutal. Raiders are never really gone, just scattered. And the dead keep walking, no matter how many we put down.
But we're not alone. We're not just surviving anymore.
We're building something that matters. Something worth protecting.
And some days, that's enough.
Some days, it's everything.