Page 65 of What Remains

Seth looked around one last time, then gave a single, decisive nod.

Cara leaned her bow against an old workbench and gestured toward the wide interior. "I'll happily take a barn over sleeping outside."

"Me too," Josie said, her voice soft with relief.

Jay pointed to the center aisle. "We'll park nose-out. Easy exit if we need it."

Within minutes, the SUVs rolled inside and the huge doors began to swallow the outside world again. Engines echoed through the space as they found their positions, side by side with enough clearance to shift quickly if trouble showed up.

Seth and Jay worked the sliding barn doors shut until the metal scraped across frozen gravel with a harsh, stubborn sound—then slammed into place. An iron bar dropped across the track with a clunk that resonated in the chest, the kind of sound that meant something had been decided.

The silence inside the pole barn settled in fast. Outside, wind kept whistling through the fields. Inside—protected, blocked from the open air and the long sight-lines—warmth didn't exist, but safety did. For one night, that counted.

Jay removed his gloves and rubbed his hands together, his movements sharp and efficient. "Keep the fire small. No big smoke column."

Seth just nodded, already scanning the concrete floor for a clear spot away from the drafts sighing through the metal walls.

Cara was already gathering broken pallets near the wall, stacking them with the practiced speed that came from too many nights with too few options. "We've become professionals at this."

"Don't jinx it," Seth muttered.

She grinned as she tossed another board onto the pile. "You know..."

She paused just long enough for the humor to land. "...for the end of the world, we've gotten pretty good at checking into hotels."

Jay barked a laugh, and the sound eased the tightness in the space for a moment. "Yeah."

He looked around the barn, at the cows calmly chewing, at the equipment arranged like forgotten history. "The hotels are just getting progressively weirder."

Chapter 14

Kisses & Memories

Dawn slipped through gaps in the steel siding.

Josie eased out from beneath the blankets, careful not to jolt Layla awake.

One more day.

That was all Josie asked for anymore—enough food for Layla's breakfast, another dozen miles without the engine failing, another night where the only sounds were her daughter's breathing and the wind.

She pulled on her coat and left Beast, stepping into the adjoining feed storage barn.

The cows were already up. Three pairs of eyes followed Josie as she moved, heads bobbing as they paced between the empty troughs. A few impatient moos rolled through the building and bounced off the rafters.

"I know," Josie murmured, offering them a weary smile. “Your hungry aren’t you?”

The feed room was where she'd noticed it the night before: stacked fifty-pound bags against one wall, dust on the paper, dry enough to trust. She took an old utility knife from the workbench and sliced through the first bag.

Shick.

Sweet feed spilled in a golden rush onto the floor.

The nearest cow lowered her head immediately, chewing like hunger had teeth. Josie opened another bag, then a third. Soon all three crowded together, tails swatting lazily, the rhythmic sound of their chewing filling the barn and warming the air.

Josie rested her shoulder against the fence, holding her smile in place even after the work slowed.

Seth stepped into the doorway.