20. New Day, Old Danger
New Day, Old Danger
The morning dawned cold and clear, fresh snow blanketing the ranch.
The familiar landscape transformed into a sea of white, broken only by weathered fences, the red barn, and the thin ribbon of smoke curling from the farmhouse chimney.
Its peacefulness seemed almost wrong—as though the world hadn't ended just beyond the property line.
Everyone moved with quiet purpose. Jay checked the Suburban one last time, ensuring every gas can was secure.
Cara inventoried the backpacks, reading supplies from her list while Seth loaded ammunition and extra blankets into Beast. Inside the barn, horses stamped impatiently as Liz tossed fresh hay into their stalls, and the goats complained loudly the moment they spotted anyone carrying feed.
Layla giggled, "I think they yell more than ducks."
Liz laughed. "They absolutely do."
Josie smiled. Her daughter disappeared into the goat pen, a handful of grain clutched in her small fist. For a few precious minutes, Layla looked like any other little girl spending time on her grandparents' farm, her world no bigger than the fence line.
Just childhood, exactly as it should be.
Josie held onto the sight, trying to memorize the feeling of it.
Seth climbed into the bed of Beast, tightening the last cargo strap.
"You planning on bringing the whole ranch with us?" Jay called.
"You can never have too much rope."
Jay laughed. "I've heard Sawyer say the exact same thing."
"That's because Sawyer's smart."
"I'll let him know you finally admitted it."
Seth smirked. "I didn't say that."
The laughter faded as Liz walked toward him, glancing over her shoulder to ensure no one else was within earshot. "You got a minute?"
Seth climbed down from the truck. "Sure."
They wandered several steps away, stopping beside the old fence overlooking the pasture. For a moment neither spoke, Liz watching the horses through the snow until her voice cut quietly through the cold.
"You care about her." It wasn't a question, but a truth.
Seth looked toward the farmhouse where Josie stood talking to Cara. "I do."
Liz acknowledged this with a slow dip of her head, as if she'd already known. "I can see it."
He shifted his weight, his gaze landing anywhere but on her. "I wasn't planning—"
"None of you were." She smiled sadly. "The world doesn't exactly leave much room for planning anymore."
Silence stretched between them until she turned to face him fully. "I need to ask you something."
"Okay."
"If things get bad out there..." Her voice caught, and she had to steady it before continuing. "...take care of my sister."
Seth didn't answer right away. Instead, he followed her gaze toward Josie, who now knelt beside Layla, fixing the little girl's winter hat before pulling her into a quick hug.
"I will."
Liz shook her head gently. "I don't mean because she's helpless."
"I figured."
"My sister has spent her entire life taking care of everyone else.
" Her smile held equal parts pride and heartbreak.
"Our parents. Mark. Layla. Patients. Strangers.
She'll run herself to nothing before she admits she's tired, and I've never once been able to convince her it's okay to stop.
" Liz looked back at him, her eyes shining.
A hard knot formed in Seth's throat. "I will keep her safe."
"I know." Liz squeezed his arm. "That's all I needed to hear."
They returned to the others just as Jay clapped his hands. "All right. Let's go over this one more time."
Jay traced the route toward Lakewood with one finger. "Shopping district first. Sporting goods, pharmacy, hardware store on Clement. We don't linger. If something feels off, we don't vote on it—we just go."
Cara gave a firm nod, her expression grim. Josie set her jaw. The agreement was silent, but absolute.
"No heroes," Cara added. "No unnecessary risks."
Liz folded her arms. "And if you see another group, you assume they're dangerous until proven otherwise."
“Exactly."
She looked around the circle before her eyes settled on Layla, and her expression softened into a smile. "So... I was hoping I could ask someone very important for a favor."
Layla looked up. "Me?"
"I was wondering if you'd help me take care of the horses while everyone goes shopping."
The little girl's face lit up. "I can?"
"You'd be my assistant."
Layla spun toward her mother. "Please?"
Josie knelt in front of her daughter. "I think that's a pretty important job."
"It is," Liz agreed solemnly.
"I'll feed Daisy?"
"And the goats. And maybe collect eggs, if the chickens cooperate."
Layla threw her arms around Liz. "I'll help!"
The smile on Josie's face faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. She stood, squaring her shoulders. "I'm going too."
The casual chatter died. Jay, who had been speaking, let his hands drop to his sides.
Jay frowned. "That was always the plan."
"It still is."
Every eye shifted toward him. He met Josie's gaze and held it. “Even if I don't like it."
Her eyebrows lifted. "You don't like what?"
"You're going."
A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. "I'm the only physician this group has."
"I know."
"I served in the Air Force before I became a trauma surgeon."
"I know."
"I've had military weapons training."
"I know."
She folded her arms. "Then what exactly is your issue?"
"My issue is you're our only trained medical professional.”
She took one step toward him. "And what happens if someone on that sweep gets hit? Who stabilizes them for the ride back?"
"We can manage."
"Can you?" A short, sharp laugh escaped her, devoid of humor. "So I'm supposed to sit here, useless, while one of you bleeds out?"
"I didn't say that."
"You implied it."
Seth scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "I'm saying you have a daughter to think about. And that means I have to think about her, too."
"And that's exactly why I need to go."
Josie's voice, though calm, held a steely resolve. Everyone watched, no one daring to interrupt.
She pointed at herself. "If someone gets hurt out there, I'm the one who keeps them alive.
I know how to clear buildings. I know how to move under fire.
I know how to shoot, and I know how to treat trauma.
" She held his gaze without flinching. "You don't get to bench me because we spent one night together. "
Her words struck him like a physical blow, leaving a ringing silence in their wake.
Seth's jaw tightened. "This isn't about last night."
"Then what is it about?"
He hesitated, the pause just long enough for the answer to be clear before he spoke it.
"I don't want anything to happen to you."
The admission hung in the cold morning air, raw and undeniable. Josie's expression softened for the briefest moment before she stepped closer, until only a few feet separated them.
"Something could happen to any of us." She glanced toward Jay, then Cara, then back to Seth. "You included."
"I know."
"I've already lost my husband." Her voice dropped, quiet enough that the words belonged only to him. "I won't sit here helpless, wondering if I'm about to lose someone else when I know I could have made a difference."
Josie's quiet admission settled over the group, the weight of it changing the air.
Finally Jay cleared his throat. "She's right."
Seth looked toward him.
"She has the training. No one here is more qualified."
Cara nodded. "And having a doctor with us could mean the difference between life and death."
Seth closed his eyes for a second. Every instinct from his training screamed to keep Josie somewhere safe, behind walls and locked doors.
But he knew better. His training confirmed it.
She wasn't someone he could protect by hiding her away.
She was someone you wanted standing beside you when everything went wrong.
He exhaled slowly. "Fine."
Josie offered the smallest smile. "I wasn't asking permission."
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself. "I figured."
Behind them, Layla tugged on Liz's hand. "Don't worry." She looked proudly at her mother. "I'll keep Aunt Liz safe while you're gone."
Laughter broke from the adults, and the tension eased just enough for them to breathe again.
But as Seth watched Josie climb into Beast, he found himself memorizing the way she moved like a man who already knew he might need to live off the memory.
As they drove from the ranch, conversation in the truck dwindled to nothing.
The unnatural quiet gave him too much time to think, and hour passed as they approached Lakeview.
Jay's Suburban led about fifty yards ahead, tires crunching steadily through fresh powder.
"So," Cara's voice crackled over the handheld radio, "this quiet is giving me the creeps. Anybody else?"
"Little late for that," Jay answered. "We're about eight months into it."
A chuckle broke through the static before silence reclaimed the convoy.
Then Seth leaned forward, every muscle in his body going still. "Slow down."
Jay's brake lights flashed immediately. "What is it?"
"There."
Seth pointed ahead. Across the two-lane highway, three abandoned vehicles sat haphazardly angled, completely blocking the road—a pickup, a minivan, an SUV. At first glance it looked like another accident, the kind they'd passed a hundred times in the last eight months.
At second glance, it was wrong—the vehicles were angled too perfectly, a barricade, not an accident.
"Back us up," Seth said quietly.
Beast rolled to a stop. Ahead, Jay leaned forward, squinting. "Looks like they just ran out of gas." He reached for the door handle.
"Stay by the damn truck," Seth snapped.
Jay froze. "What?"
Seth opened his door, rifle in hand, his eyes sweeping the scene. The ditch, the woods, the angled cars. No infected. No movement. Nothing. The perfect stillness tightened his stomach more than any visible threat.
"It's too clean."
Josie stepped out beside him. "What do you mean?"
He nodded toward the vehicles. "No blood."
She frowned, understanding dawning. "No bodies."
"Exactly."
Jay began slowly backing toward the Suburban. "Maybe people just—"
A glint caught Seth's eye. Sunlight reflecting off glass—not windshield glass.
Optics.
"DOWN!"
The crack of a rifle split the morning. The round shattered one of the vehicles windshield exactly where Seth's head had been a second earlier.
Gunfire exploded from both sides of the road, bullets punching into metal, windows bursting into glittering shards that scattered across the snow.
"Trees!” Jay yelled, diving behind the Suburban.
Seth shoved Josie behind the engine block just as another round ricocheted off the hood, close enough to spray them both with paint chips. "They're flanking us!"
"At least six of them!" Jay shouted.
Cara returned fire from behind the driver's door. "They've got the high ground!"
Seth risked a glance over the hood and saw nothing—the shooters stayed hidden among the pines, patient and deliberate. Military discipline. A cold knot of certainty formed in his gut. These weren't desperate survivors. This was organized.
Another rifle cracked. Jay grunted.
"You hit?"
"I'm good!"
Metal screamed as another bullet punched clean through the Suburban's rear panel.
"We're pinned!" Cara yelled.
Seth's mind raced through options, each one coming up empty. Wrong position. Wrong terrain. No cover, save for the two vehicles systematically being riddled with bullets around them. They were losing, and everyone behind those trees knew it.
Then a different rifle answered.
Crack.
One of the hidden shooters collapsed backward out of the trees.
Crack.
Another dropped.
The precise shots echoed across the valley, and confused shouting erupted from the woods. "What the hell?" a panicked voice yelled.
Crack.
A third ambusher fell before he could even shoulder his weapon.
Seth frowned, ears straining. That wasn't Jay. Wasn't Cara. Wasn't anyone with them.
Another shot. Another body.
The ambushers abandoned the attack at once. "Fall back!" "Move!" "They've got another sniper!" The figures burst from the trees, sprinting deeper into the forest. The unseen marksman picked off one more before the ambushers vanished into the snow-covered pines.
Silence settled almost instantly, broken only by the ringing in Seth's ears and the hiss of steam from a ruptured radiator.
Jay looked around, wide-eyed. "...Who the hell was shooting?"
Seth had already started moving. "Cover me."
He slipped into the trees, moving low where the shots had come from. His eyes scanned the ground until he found it: a single set of boot prints. He followed them, noting the disciplined spacing, the unhurried strides. Not running. Walking. Confident.
He found him nearly a hundred yards up the ridge.
A man in his early thirties knelt beside a fallen log, calmly packing away a suppressed bolt-action rifle with the unhurried precision of someone who had merely finished target practice. Dark beard. Weathered coat. A pack worn thin from months of hard travel.
He looked up before Seth could speak.
"I would've waved," the stranger said evenly, "but your friends were a little busy."
Seth kept his rifle lowered but ready. "You just saved our lives."
The man shrugged. "They picked a bad place for an ambush."
"You a vet?"
Cade offered nothing more, and Seth respected the silence. Seth appreciated that.
"You got a name?"
"Cade."
"Seth."
They shook hands—firm, brief, each man quietly taking the other's measure.
"You alone?" Seth asked.
"For now."
"You heading somewhere?"
Cade's gaze drifted toward the southern horizon, and something unreadable passed across his face. "Yeah."
"Family?"
His expression hardened. "...Something like that."
Seth nodded toward the road. "You helped us. You don't owe us anything—but we'd like to repay the favor."
Cade raised an eyebrow. "How?"
"Travel with us. We're heading for supplies. You can eat, get warm. Move on tomorrow if you want."
Cade's gaze flickered from Seth back toward the road, where Josie was checking on Jay. He seemed to weigh the offer against something else. After a long moment, he gave a short nod.
"One night."