Fortifications

The following morning, the sky was streaked with soft pink and lavender, belying the brewing tension inside the shelter. Mark and Darren rallied a handful of newcomers for a labor detail on the perimeter, armed with hammers, nails, and a patched-up spool of barbed wire. Their mission: to reinforce the shaky eastern fence line, rumored to have a hole large enough for a determined intruder—or a stray undead—to slip through.

Leila observed from a short distance. The quiet synergy among those working suggested that not everyone was out to sabotage them—some newcomers were indeed cooperative, possibly even grateful for a safe place to rest. One woman, who claimed mechanical experience, adeptly taught Mark how to rig a bracket that made the fence sturdier. Another volunteer scaled a stepladder to secure barbed wire overhead. It was messy work, but the fence gradually took shape, robust enough to deter casual threats.

In the meantime, Fiona accepted help from a newcomer with medical training. She reorganized the first-aid area, labeling what few medications they had and instructing novices on how to treat basic wounds. Their small infirmary, though barebones, now carried a sense of minimal efficiency. If a serious injury occurred, they'd still be in trouble, but at least scrapes and mild fevers wouldn't spiral out of control.

Kai moved among these pockets of activity, quietly praising useful efforts and mentally noting who worked diligently versus who skirted tasks. After all, someone might be deliberately holding back or sabotaging from within.

At midday, the engineer who'd helped Mark previously revealed a design for a more stable watchtower above the main gate. While resources remained tight, the plan sparked excitement among some—and suspicious silence among others. Leila caught glimpses of a tall, wiry figure in the background, arms perpetually folded, lips twisted in a near-scowl each time the engineer spoke.

Not everyone cooperated so smoothly. Arguments flared over tool usage, each side convinced the other was hogging the best equipment. A few of the aloof newcomers complained about the watch schedule, calling it invasive. "We're survivors, not prisoners," one snapped at Darren when told she had to log her whereabouts after curfew.

Leila interceded, carefully explaining that mutual accountability was necessary to protect the entire group. "We nearly lost this place once," she told the disgruntled woman. "We won't lose it again over a misunderstanding. If that means stricter rules, so be it."

The newcomer glared, but eventually relented with a muttered "Fine." Leila noted her name on a mental list of possible troublemakers, albeit with no proof yet. The air felt thick with distrust, as if someone might snap at any moment.

That afternoon, Kai reported fresh footprints on the outermost fence line—distinct from the ones they'd made reinforcing it. The prints emerged from the nearby woods, circled close to the shelter, then vanished back among the trees. Possibly a small scouting party, or one individual checking for weaknesses.

Leila's brow furrowed as she studied the impressions. "Whoever it is, they're not coming at us openly. Could be a lone wolf, or someone inside feeding them intel."

Kai's eyes flicked around the perimeter. "We'll double watchers tonight. Mark at one corner, me at the other, and we'll trade off. If someone tries creeping out, we'll see it."

She nodded, chest tight. "I just hope we're not dealing with a more organized threat."

In contrast, the helpful presence of some new survivors offered a glimmer of optimism. A huntsman from an outlying settlement showed Leila a potential route to gather small game in the surrounding fields. Another taught Fiona how to scavenge for certain wild greens that supplemented their limited rations. The sense of progress was real—if not for the overshadowing suspicion that beneath it lurked hidden agendas.

During a brief break, Leila perched on a broken crate near the newly patched fence, sipping from a battered water flask. She watched as the huntsman gave pointers to Darren on how to track smaller animals. For a moment, she felt a flicker of gratitude that her trust in newcomers sometimes bore fruit. Then she recalled how easily trust had been weaponized by Jace and Ellie, how quickly illusions of safety could crumble. She forced the memory aside, focusing on the present.

By late afternoon, a hush settled across the courtyard as the day's labors wound down. Some survivors turned their attention to dinner preparations, rummaging for anything to bulk up the stew. Others patrolled the fence, triple-checking the fresh repairs.

Leila convened with Mark and Kai near a rusted pickup bed that served as an impromptu table. They exchanged updates:

Mark: "We got the fence about as strong as it can be. Still, we'll see if the rumored watchtower's feasible next week. Gonna need more lumber."

Kai: "I've stashed some extra ammo in a hidden spot—just in case. Don't want everything in one storeroom if we do have a mole."

Leila: "Smart move. Let's keep that between us for now."

She glanced around, noticing more new faces sitting against the compound wall, exhaustion etched into their features. A wave of pity washed through her. Many truly wanted a chance to rebuild. Was she doing them a disservice by suspecting them all? Or had betrayal taught her that caution was never wasted?

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, a sense of anticipation thickened in the air. People finished last-minute chores, eyeing the gates and watch schedules posted on a bulletin board. Some newcomers mumbled grievances about "constant observation," while older members took it in stride as necessary. A hush fell, as though the entire compound waited for night to reveal its secrets.

Kai brushed dust off his sleeves and caught Leila's eye. "I'll get the watch teams ready."

She nodded. "Let's hope the fences hold—and that if someone is up to no good, we catch them in the act."

Despite the day's improvements, the threat of sabotage persisted like an invisible timer ticking in the background. If unmasked too late, it could undo everything they'd worked for. Leila clenched her jaw, steeling herself for another sleepless night with watch rotations. All while wrestling with the uneasy thought that some who slept under this roof might be planning the group's downfall.