23. Home At Last
Home At Last
The familiar outline of the ranch emerged over the next rise as the afternoon sun dipped toward the mountains, gilding the snow-covered fields in fading amber light.
Home.
He tried to push the word away. This wasn't his home; it belonged to Josie and Layla.
It was just a stop before the long road home.
But the argument felt thin as he watched smoke curl from the farmhouse chimney—a peaceful, lazy ribbon against the white landscape.
Horses wandered near the fence line, their quiet shapes a promise of sanctuary he knew he couldn't keep.
Jay smiled into the radio.
"Chimney's smoking. That's a good sign."
As Beast rolled through the front gate, the farmhouse door burst open before the truck had even come to a stop.
"There they are!" Layla's excited voice rang out across the yard as she flew down the porch steps, bundled in a coat two sizes too big, nearly losing her hat as she sprinted through the snow.
Liz followed close behind, starting at a jog before breaking into a full run, the tense line of her shoulders softening as she saw them.
"We heard the truck—I was so afraid it wasn't you," she called out, her voice filled with relief.
Layla reached Beast before Seth had the chance to shut off the engine, bouncing impatiently beside the passenger door.
"Hurry! Hurry!"
Seth climbed out just in time for her to wrap both arms around his waist and squeeze with everything her small frame could manage.
"You came back!"
He laughed, ruffling her winter hat. "I said I would."
"I know." She beamed up at him, cheeks pink from the cold. "I just wanted to make sure."
Josie stepped down from the truck, and before she could speak a single word, Liz pulled her into a fierce embrace.
Josie hugged her just as tightly. "We're okay."
Liz looked past her sister toward the loaded vehicles, and her eyes went wide. "...Good Lord."
Jay climbed down from the Suburban with a grin stretched across his face. "I think we found enough supplies to make Sawyer cry."
Cara laughed. "Happy tears."
"I meant tears of jealousy."
Liz walked slowly around the Suburban, taking in the mountain of gear lashed beneath cargo nets—sleeping bags, backpacks, boxes of ammunition, winter coats, fuel cans, propane cylinders, axes, water filters, and cases of canned food stacked nearly to the roof.
"I don't even know where to start."
Jay clapped his hands together, the sound sharp in the cold. "Alright, folks. This mountain isn't going to move itself."
They started organizing things on the porch. Every thing got split three ways with two thirds going in their trailer and two vehicles and the other going into the farm house. Layla darted in and out.
"I've got it!" she insisted, straining dramatically under the weight.
Seth caught the box just before it slipped from her mittens. "You almost did."
She looked at him suspiciously. “No I do!”
She giggled and settled instead for a much smaller box filled with seed packets, carrying it toward the house with all the pride of someone hauling twice her weight.
Liz paused when she noticed the label. "Vegetable seeds?"
Cara smiled. "Tomatoes, beans, corn, squash, carrots—even strawberries."
Josie's eyes filled with sudden tears. "Mama would've loved this."
Liz reached over and squeezed her sister's hand, her own voice softening. "We'll plant every single one. In the spring."
Inside, the pantry came to life, shelf after shelf filling with canned vegetables, soups, beans, rice, flour, coffee, and enough dried food to stretch well beyond winter.
Josie carefully organized the medical supplies into the old linen closet—antibiotics, bandages, sutures, pain medication, sterile dressings, and trauma kits—running her hand gently across the stocked shelves when she finished.
She shook her head in quiet disbelief. "This is... this is like finding treasure."
Outside, the generator came down with a shared grunt from Jay and Seth, its metal legs sinking into the snow. They moved on to the sacks of feed, their breath pluming in the cold air as they stacked them in the barn while Cara made a final check against her notebook.
"I think we're good.”
Jay nodded, glancing toward the Suburban. "Everything in that pile stays and The rest goes back with us."
Liz's gaze followed his gesture, then met his. "You've got people depending on you."
"So do you." He gestured toward the supplies now filling every corner of the farmhouse. "This should get you through another winter."
Liz looked around the kitchen. The pantry sat fuller than she'd seen it since before the outbreak. The basement shelves held enough food to feed several families, the mudroom overflowed with coats, boots, and blankets, and the barn now housed sacks of livestock feed stacked shoulder high.
She turned slowly toward the others, her voice thick. "I don't know how to thank you."
"You don't," Cara said gently. "You survive."
Nobody spoke, and nobody needed to.
Cara's word, "survive," hung in the air. Finally, Jay broke the quiet. "We're heading out. First thing in the morning."
The room went impossibly still. Layla froze in the middle of arranging canned peaches on a shelf, her small hands hovering over the jars.
"So soon?" Liz asked.
Jay nodded. "We've stayed longer than we planned."
Cara reached over and rested a hand on Liz's arm. "The cabin needs these supplies."
Liz dropped her gaze, already knowing they were right. "I know."
Josie smiled, but her eyes stayed flat and her jaw was doing that tight thing Seth had noticed before, when she was trying not to show how much something had gotten to her.
"I figured." Her voice was so soft Seth almost didn't hear it. She glanced around the farmhouse as if memorizing it with them still inside. "We just... it started feeling normal, having everyone here."
Seth's chest tightened. His gaze drifted from Josie to Layla, then to the warm kitchen that had somehow become less a temporary stop and more something he'd nearly forgotten existed.
A home.
Tomorrow morning, they would head east. He pictured the road stretching out, empty and cold, and the image felt empty.