The days that followed were quieter.
The smell of blood still lingered on the porch, faint but there, mixing with the scent of wet soil after last night's rain.
The cabin stood half-broken but alive, its walls now patched with metal sheets and nailed boards.
Ken was up early, as always. Vinz woke to the sound of wood splitting outside.
When he opened the door, Ken was there, sleeves rolled up, swinging an axe against a thick log. The noise echoed across the trees.
"Morning," Ken said, breathing heavy.
"We'll be leaving soon. But before that, you two need to learn how to survive out there."
Vinz rubbed his eyes. "Survive?"
Ken smiled faintly. "Not just hide and run. Fight, move, fix things when they break. You can't keep running and hiding forever."
Cassandra came out next, holding her knife and a piece of bread.
"He's right," she said.
"If we're going to travel, we can't keep depending on luck."
The three of them sat by the fire they made near the cabin, the smoke rising slow through the trees. For a moment, it almost felt normal.
By midday, the training started.
Ken showed them how to build small traps, how to set wire and cans near the trees, to make noise when something moved close. Then he taught Vinz how to swing properly with control.
"Swing with your shoulder," Ken said, adjusting Vinz's stance.
"Let the weight do the work, not your arm."
Vinz tried again, the hammer landing on a rotten plank with a solid thud.
"Better," Ken said.
"But don't waste your energy. Every move counts when you're tired, or hungry."
Cassandra watched them from a distance, cleaning her knife. When Ken called her over, she hesitated but obeyed.
He taught her how to aim with the pistol he got from the guy that tried to steal from them, 5 bullet left, but he said it was enough to learn how it felt.
"Keep both eyes open," Ken told her.
"You blink, you're dead."
The sound of the dry click echoed through the empty cabin when she pulled the trigger. Vinz flinched from the sound.
That night, they sat by candlelight.
Ken spread an old map on the table, creased, faded, edges burned. It showed a stretch of the Sumulo Highway and the Passi River that bent north.
"This is where we go," he said, pointing.
"A supply route used by the army before things went to hell. If it's still clear, we'll reach a safer zone near the hills."
Cassandra leaned closer. "And if it's not clear?"
Ken looked at her. "Then we find another way."
Vinz traced the road with his finger. "You've been here before?"
Ken nodded. "Before everything. I went to the Reserve Officer Training Corps with your father." He paused, eyes softening.
"Emman was a good man. He is also a hella skilled mechanic."
Vinz looked down, unsure what to say. The mention of his father still cut deep, but hearing someone talk about him felt like finding a piece of him again.
"Did you know where he went?" Vinz asked quietly.
Ken hesitated. "No. I lost contact when the lines went down. I only found his tricycle months later… yours now."
The silence stretched.
The candle flickered, shadows moving across their faces. Cassandra finally spoke.
"You two talk like you've known each other forever."
Ken chuckled. "Feels that way. I guess we both lost the same person in different ways."
The next few days passed in a slow rhythm.
Morning, training.
Afternoon, repairs.
Evening, quiet talks or silence.
Vinz learned how to patch wounds, start a fire without matches, and change the oil of the engine properly. Ken made him practice every day until his hands were sore and his shirt drenched.
Cassandra began to open up a little. She didn't talk much, but she smiled sometimes now, small, short smiles that disappeared quickly.
She was good at organizing things: food, tools, and bullets. She taught Vinz how to ration supplies, how to use herbs from the forest to treat cuts.
"You learn fast," she said one evening, not looking at him.
"I have to," Vinz replied.
"Out there, slow means dead."
Ken overheard and laughed. "He's right. You two are starting to sound like survivors."
But even with laughter, the air felt heavy. They all knew it couldn't last.
On the sixth day, the sky turned gray again.
They decided to test the tricycle. Ken helped Vinz mount a small rack for supplies and extra fuel. Cassandra checked the tires and tightened the straps. It was almost ready.
Ken stood back, wiping his hands on a cloth.
"Tomorrow, we move."
Vinz nodded. "You sure about this?"
Ken looked at the woods, the same woods where they had buried the bodies.
"We can't stay here forever. Places like this, they become graves after a while."
Cassandra looked uneasy. "We don't even know what's waiting out there."
"That's why we will go prepared," Ken said.
"We stay sharp. We watch each other's backs."
That night, rain started to fall again.
They ate quietly, listening to the soft drumming on the roof. Ken took a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and stepped outside. The glow of the ember lit his face faintly.
Vinz joined him a few minutes later. "You think we'll make it?"
Ken took a long drag, exhaled smoke into the air. "We'll make it far enough. After that… no one really knows."
Vinz leaned on the wooden rail. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to leave."
"You'll never be ready," Ken said simply.
"No one ever is. But you learn to keep moving anyway."
Vinz nodded. "You sound like my dad."
Ken smiled. "Maybe that's why he kept me around."
They both laughed quietly. It wasn't joy, more like two people remembering what laughter used to feel like.
When morning came, the rain had stopped.
Cassandra packed the bags, tying them neatly on the tricycle's back seat. Vinz checked the engine one last time, turning the key halfway, just enough to hear it hum.
Ken walked over, slinging his axe across his shoulder. "Good work," he said.
"Both of you."
Vinz looked up. "We'll be fine, right?"
Ken smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You will."
Cassandra frowned. "What about you?"
Ken didn't answer right away. He looked toward the forest, eyes narrowing, as if listening to something far away. Then he turned back. "We'll talk about that later. For now, rest. We leave before noon."
The two younger ones nodded. They were too tired to argue.
As Vinz lay down, staring at the cabin ceiling for what might be the last night there, he thought about everything that had changed.
The fear, the exhaustion, the blood, they were still there. But so was something else now.
A purpose.
He closed his eyes and let the sound of the river outside carry him to sleep.
Tomorrow, they would leave.