The morning mist still clung to the fields when I stirred awake. The smell of dew mixed with faint wood smoke drifted from the open window. Ghost, laying by the door, tail twitching in half sleep, was still alert even in rest. The sound of footsteps outside hinted that someone was already awake, probably Dale or Morgan. I sat up, stretching; joints popped faintly. It was still quiet outside, but the quiet didn't last.
By the time I stepped outside, the farm was alive with motion. Jenny was already setting up breakfast near the fire pit. Andrea and Amy were sorting canned food by expiration date, labeling everything with a Sharpie. Jim was working the truck for unseen problems, muttering to himself. Dale was perched on top of his RV, scanning the territory with his binoculars for movement, while Morgan was doing a perimeter check. I exhaled softly. They're learning, good.
I gathered everyone for breakfast, the air carrying a quiet sense of purpose. "Alright," I began, "the next few days we'll start working like an actual unit. We're done playing by the ear."
"Morgan, you and Jim finish reinforcing the south and east fences. If anything breaches from that direction, we'll funnel them through the open field—easier to handle." Morgan nodded immediately. Jim hesitated but followed with a quiet, "Got it."
"Dale, you'll manage lookout rotations. Use the RV roof during the day, barn loft at night. Keep shifts tight, no one stays up for more than two hours."
Dale gave a gruff chuckle. "Alright, soldier boy, but I'll tell you, I ain't built for running night shifts anymore."
Smirking, I said, "Then make sure your team isn't either. Rotate smart."
Turning to Andrea and Amy, "You two prep for scavenging runs. I'll handle the actual trips for now until we get more survivors, but I want supply lists ready—everything from canned foods to mechanical parts. You're also to help Jenny maintaining the pantry and checking expiration dates."
Andrea crossed her arms, half amused. "We're quartermasters now?"
"You're the backbone," I corrected her, my tone steady. "No supplies, no survival. I need people who can think ahead, not just shoot straight." Andrea looked like she wanted to argue, but Amy touched her arm lightly, diffusing the tension.
Turning to Jenny, "You'll manage supply documentation, meal prep, and ration schedules. You know better than most how to stretch things thin."
Jenny gave a faint nod. "I can do that."
Finally, I turned to Duane, who was silently watching from the side. "You have the most important task of us all, little man."
Duane perked up. "Really?" he asked uncertainly.
"Why, yes, you do. You have the important task to keep watch on the water storage and to refill it when it's running low. No water means no everything. You got it?"
"Duane answered, puffing his chest with pride. The group shared a knowing look, chuckling silently. Even Jim seemed to have a ghost grin on his face.
"Good." I looked over the small group, my eyes narrowing slightly. "You all did good work these past couple of days, but this isn't a vacation. Every one of you will learn to shoot, clean, and maintain weapons. You'll learn movement and basic formation, because the ones out there aren't slowing down." My words carried through the cool morning air.
No one spoke for a moment. Then Dale chuckled again, breaking the stillness. "Well… guess I signed up for boot camp after all."
"Not a boot camp," I said, smiling faintly. "It's survival." The tension eased, faint smiles breaking through tired faces.
Later that day, I stood in front of the group. "Today we learn how not to die stupidly." That earned a nervous chuckle from Dale and a small grin from Duane, who stood a step behind his father with Ghost by his side. Laid across a wooden table were the spoils of yesterday's run: pistols, shotguns, rifles, boxes of ammo, and even a few sets of handcuffs and spare magazines from the sheriff station. Each weapon gleamed under the sun, cleaned and ready.
Andrea folded her arms. "You really mean to arm everyone?"
"Not everyone," I replied, checking the chamber of a Glock before laying it flat. "Only the ones I trust not to shoot their own foot."
Duane's hand shot up, bright-eyed. "Can I learn too?"
Morgan started to protest, but I cut him first. "Not today, kid. You'll get there when you're ready." I gave a faint smile. "For now, you help Ghost fetch brass after we're done."
Duane nodded proudly, petting Ghost's head.
The day stretched into work and noise. I guided them patiently through the basics: first loading, clearing, stance, trigger discipline. "Finger off the trigger until you're on target!" I barked. When Andrea flinched at the recoil, "Breath out before you shoot, not during," I told Amy softly, steadying her trembling arms. "Don't muscle the shotgun," I warned Dale, "let it push into you, not away from you."
Morgan showed natural focus while Jenny's aim was shaky but improving. Jim insisted on training as well. I initially didn't intend for him to wield a gun this early, but he proved me wrong. His shots were clean and deliberate, as if he had something to prove to himself.
As for Duane… well, Duane watched everything, his eyes darting between me and his father with wordless admiration.
When the group took a short break, I noticed him crouching by the dirt, collecting brass casings into a small box. Ghost followed him like a loyal shadow.
"Good eye, kid," I said, walking over. "You've got patience. That's better than half the grown ups."
Duane grinned. "Dad said patience is what keeps you alive."
"Smart man," I murmured, glancing toward Morgan, who was helping Jenny reload her pistol. Turning to Duane, "Your father is a smart man. Learn well from him," I said, causing him to brighten up, puffing his chest in pride.
"My dad is the best," he said proudly.
I chuckled, giving his head a pat. "I'll leave you to your mission then, little soldier."
"Sir, yes, sir!" Duane giving me a salute, giggling.
(To be continued...)