Breaking New Ground

A chalky sun rose over the compound, suffusing the sky with muted yellows and pale oranges. The chill in the air had eased just enough to allow an industrious morning, and already, the courtyard buzzed with movement. A handful of survivors scurried about, loading rickety carts with planks of scavenged wood, coils of rope, and anything else that might be repurposed for building. The hush that had plagued the community—brought on by suspicions of thefts, infiltration, and Jace's looming band—had given way, at least temporarily, to a bustle of renewed purpose: constructing the outpost.

Leila stood near the compound's east gate, arms folded, scanning the organized chaos. Darren was at the center of it all, already issuing orders to a small group of volunteers:

A young farmer named Will, sturdy and patient as he handled the cart's harness.

Two older survivors who'd once been carpenters, measuring salvaged beams with battered tape measures.

And, surprisingly, a few of Harriet's newcomers—specifically Rael, the traumatized young man, along with Jonas, the quiet bruiser who rarely spoke unless necessary.

A gray donkey brayed at the activity, shifting under the weight of piled lumber. Darren patted the animal's flank, giving it a moment to calm as he turned to the gathering crowd.

"All right, everyone," he said, voice carrying over the clank of metal and whispered conversation. "We're heading out to the farmland's eastern edge. That's where we scouted the best spot for a small watch station. If we're lucky, we'll set the foundation by dusk."

At his side, Kai methodically checked a map pinned to a makeshift board. He spotted Leila and gave a faint, knowing nod. Their eyes met—a moment of quiet acknowledgment that warmed her chest. A subtle comfort. They had parted ways the previous night with lingering tension, overshadowed by theft and infiltration fears, but that tension no longer felt like a chasm. There was something bridging it, however fragile.

Tamsin's faction hovered nearby, arms crossed, watching Harriet's group with undisguised mistrust. Harriet herself lingered by the supply cart, reading from a ragged blueprint of her own—apparently, she claimed to have helped erect defensive structures before her old camp fell. She'd offered suggestions for the outpost's layout, a gesture Tamsin interpreted as either a ploy or a desperate attempt to prove innocence.

Leila closed the distance between them, greeting Darren with a half-smile. "Looks like you're well organized."

He exhaled, tucking a hammer into his belt. "I hope so. Any sign of sabotage from last night?"

She shook her head. "No new thefts. Which doesn't confirm anything, but at least we're not losing more supplies."

"Could mean the saboteur's lying low," Tamsin interjected, appearing at Leila's elbow. She wore a scowl that seemed carved into her face. "They're waiting for us to leave the compound half-empty while we chase farmland dreams."

Leila fought the urge to roll her eyes. "That's why we're not leaving it half-empty. Mark is in charge of the walls today, and we've doubled watchers around the storeroom."

Tamsin gave a tight-lipped nod, refusing to appear mollified. "Just be sure you keep Harriet's people where you can see them."

The mention drew Harriet's gaze. She shot Tamsin a brief glower but said nothing. Rael, picking up a bundle of smaller planks, looked on edge, as though every whispered accusation might be aimed at him. The memory of his claim—knowing some of Jace's operations—lingered at the back of Leila's mind. If he was genuine, his knowledge could be invaluable. If not…

Kai cleared his throat, stepping in diplomatically. "Darren, we good to move out?"

Darren nodded. "Yeah. Let's roll."

A ramshackle procession formed: two carts loaded with supplies, half a dozen armed survivors flanking them, and Harriet's group assisting. Darren took the lead, a rifle slung across his back, eyes scanning every shadow. Kai walked closer to Leila, offering silent support as they passed the orchard, where a few orchard workers paused to watch them go.

The trek to the farmland was short—less than twenty minutes—but the hush felt uneasy. Each snapping twig and rustling bush put everyone on alert, hearts drumming with the fear that undead or raiders might lurk just out of sight. Even the donkey seemed jumpy, occasionally braying as though expecting a walker to emerge from the low brush.

Rael trudged near the back, one hand on his bandaged shoulder. His wound had mostly healed, but the scar remained. He'd insisted on coming, hoping to prove he and Harriet's group weren't part of any infiltration. It was a risk—if he was truly an agent of Jace, this gave him a perfect vantage to learn about their new outpost. But trust has to start somewhere, Leila reminded herself, tamping down a surge of apprehension.

Eventually, they reached the farmland's outer boundary—marked by a row of stakes hammered in after the initial scouting. The terrain sloped gently downward, offering a broad view of patchy fields and the distant line of a half-dried creek. The orchard's last row of trees ended here, giving way to barren land in desperate need of cultivation.

Darren halted, surveying the area. "This is it," he said, turning in a slow circle. "We'll build the outpost on that slight rise. Should give us a vantage point over the farmland and the main approach from the south."

Leila nodded, trying to envision a small wooden tower perched on the knoll. Even a basic structure could provide early warning if a horde of zombies or a raider gang approached. "We should clear the brush first," she noted. "The last thing we need is a lurking spot for anything to hide."

Kai gestured to a cluster of volunteers. "Right. Let's get axes and machetes, cut down enough brush to give us a clear perimeter."

Harriet approached with a measured step, her blueprint rolled under one arm. "We did something similar in my old camp," she offered quietly, voice tinged with nostalgia. "Cleared out a circle around the main tower so watchers had an unobstructed view."

Tamsin hovered a few yards away, watchful as Harriet gestured to a patch of undergrowth. At least she's contributing, Leila thought.

The sound of chopping machetes and axes soon filled the chilly air. Brush toppled, thick weeds pulled up by the roots. Darren directed a handful of people to dig shallow trenches for a basic defensive ring, while others measured out postholes for the watchtower's foundation. The donkey whinnied as they offloaded lumber, planks scraping against the cart's metal frame.

Leila took a moment to help position the first corner posts, pressing her foot atop a spade to widen the hole. Dirt clung to the edges of her worn boots. She couldn't help recalling the sense of satisfaction she'd felt building fortifications back in her first timeline—only to have it all undone by Jace's cunning. This time, she was determined to do it better, even if the fear of infiltration gnawed at her.

As Harriet oversaw Jonas and Rael, Tamsin loitered nearby, arms perpetually crossed, suspicious eyes flicking from one new arrival to the next. Occasionally, Harriet would try to offer suggestions, referencing her blueprint or pointing out a better angle for fortification. Leila watched Tamsin stiffen each time, as though Harriet's every word was a possible lie. One slip, Tamsin's posture said, and I'll pounce.

But Harriet persisted in that quiet, stoic manner, rummaging through salvaged nails and hammered boards into place. Rael, breathing through lingering shoulder pain, assisted with bracing the wooden beams, occasionally wincing but refusing to sit idle.

"Trying to pull my weight," he explained to Leila in a subdued voice when she paused to check on him. "I want to show I'm not the enemy."

She offered a short nod, not fully smiling but acknowledging his effort. "Just don't tear that shoulder open again," she said gently. "We appreciate the help."

A glimmer of relief touched his eyes. "I—I won't," he mumbled, returning to stabilizing a board against the makeshift tower frame.

Some hours later, the group paused for a hastily assembled midday meal—simple rations of dried meat, crackers, and water. People gathered around the partially erected tower, grateful for the break. The donkey munched on some wilted grasses, placidly ignoring the bustle.

Leila, sweaty and covered in specks of dirt, found a corner of the clearing to catch her breath. Kai approached with a canteen in hand, offering it to her. She accepted it, letting the cool water soothe her parched throat.

"Thanks," she murmured.

He shrugged, leaning against a newly installed post. "Figured you might need a break."

She nodded, handing the canteen back. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the hectic world around them seemed to blur. She recalled the moment days ago, how she'd admitted the raw truth: Jace had literally killed her once. The memory still lay heavy, but sharing it had eased an impossible burden.

"Doing okay?" he asked softly.

She allowed a small, subdued smile. "Better than before."