(Unedited)
The first night after the burial passed in a haze of half rest, half nightmares Mason could remember quite vividly. Samantha slept beside Cheshire on a nest of blankets. The dog's head was resting protectively across the girl's legs, rising and falling with each soft breath.
Mason let her sleep a little longer; she's going to need it for the day they have ahead of them. They needed the orphanage secured. They needed supplies. And they needed a plan.
Mason stretched, cracked his neck, and stood. "Time to work," he muttered to himself. Before gently shaking Sam awake, "Time to wake up kid"
She let out a groan while stretching at the same time "I'm up" she mutters, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
Mason lets out a little laugh at the sight, "let's eat then". Giving Sam some oatmeal he made using water and a drop of honey. Samantha didn't say much. She ate with her knees tucked up to her chest. Cheshire simply gets a couple handfuls of Dog food; Mason also has what's ever left over from the oatmeal.
"Alright," he said brushing off his hands. "today's a big one. We gotta make this place safe, at least till we leave."
"You mean… board it up?" Samantha asked.
"Yeah. Windows, back door, front door."
Her brows pinched. "Are we staying here?"
Mason hesitated, then shook his head. "For now," is all he said
Samantha didn't argue. "Okay. What do we do first?"
Mason forced a small, proud smile and tapped her shoulder. "First thing? We'll broad up the windows using some wood I left here from doing some repairs"
It took a while to gather the wood into the orphanage from the shed. Mason hauled the heavy pieces while Samantha carried the nails and the toolbox. Cheshire trotted between them like she was supervising the whole operation.
The downstairs windows were the priority.
Mason hammered planks across the big living room windows first, wiping sweat from his brow as he worked. Every time the hammer hit a nail, Mason couldn't help but pause to listen for any Roamers. Thankfully it seemed they haven't made it to the outskirts of the city yet.
Still, he kept his Glock tucked in the waistband of his jeans, always within reach.
Samantha helped hold the boards in place. She flinched at the loud hammering at first, but gradually steadied, growing more confident. By the third window she was handing nails to him without being asked.
"You're doing good," Mason said, adjusting the plank.
"Miss Anne always said I'd make a good assistant," Samantha murmured.
The words carved a hollow ache in Mason's chest. He forced a soft hum in response, the only thing he could manage without his voice breaking.
By noon, the windows were covered, the back door was braced shut with a cabinet shoved against it, and the front door reinforced with two heavy bookshelves and a long wooden beam wedged across the frame.
Mason stepped back, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm.
"That'll buy us time if something, decides to try gettin' in."
They spent the rest of the evening gathering anything of use or value and bring it upstairs to what used to be Miss Annes bedroom/ office. It was the biggest room in the house that stretched from front to back with two windows at either side, allowing Mason a good field of view of the front and back of the orphanage
~~~
The next morning came much too soon for Mason, who barely managed to get any sleep during the night as any noise or creak would jolt him awake.
Mason walked the perimeter first thing, checking the boards, the doors, the walls. Everything was holding. No walkers nearby. No signs of movement on the streets. Still too quiet.
Inside, Samantha and Cheshire were already awake. Samantha sat cross-legged at the table, petting Cheshire's ears while staring at the scattered supply boxes Mason had gathered the night before.
"You ready?" he asked.
She nodded. "We're sorting everything today?"
"Yep. Figure out what we got and what we still need."
They emptied every cupboard, closet, and storage room in the orphanage. They worked in silence at first, but gradually, the rhythm of their task pulled them into a steady flow.
Canned vegetables. Beans. Peaches. Pasta. Pet food. Bottled water. Flashlights. Trash bags. Cleaning supplies. A few odds and ends—batteries, duct tape, candles.
"Not bad," Samantha said, organizing cans by type.
"Could be worse," Mason admitted.
It took nearly two hours to check everything.
And then Mason set aside the last pile: weapons and safety equipment.
Two baseball bats. A small axe, the blade dulled. A kitchen knife with a chipped handle. Rope. A few old walkie-talkies that no longer worked.
And his Glock. He removed the magazine, frowning at how light it felt.
Samantha looked up. "What's wrong?"
"One full mag left," he said quietly, counting the remaining rounds in his palm. "That's it."
Her face paled. "And you don't know when we'll find more?"
"No, I know where we can get more" He clicked the magazine back in place and holstered the gun. "But until then for emergencies only."
Samantha glanced toward the metal rod he'd propped against the wall the one he'd used to take down the walker near the Orphanage a day earlier, "You still have that."
"Yeah," Mason said. "And I'll be using it a lot more."
They finished sorting by midday. Mason wrote everything in a notebook, habits drilled into him by his father and supported by Miss Anne.
In the afternoon, they cleaned up. Swept floors. Moved debris away from the windows. Shut every curtain. Organized blankets and beds. It felt almost normal like tidying up after a storm.
As night settled in, they ate macaroni straight from the pot and played a quiet game of cards Samantha found in one of the drawers. Cheshire lay at their feet, tail thumping lazily every now and then.
For a brief moment, Mason let himself imagine they were just waiting out a blackout. That the world outside wasn't burning. But the moment passed quickly.
When Samantha fell asleep on Miss Anne's, Mason draped a blanket over her and stayed awake a while longer, listening to the faint wind outside. His thoughts drifted back to the grave, to the mounds of earth beneath the tree.
He whispered a quiet promise. "I'll take care of her. I swear it."
~~~~
Mason woke up thankfully without any aches or pains from the previous couple days. Samantha was still asleep, but Cheshire of course was up and about, so he just laid down on the bed thinking. They can't stay here; the orphanage is old and run down if he's been honest, and way too far from anything they'll need if they are to survive.
They need food, supplies, somewhere safe and easier to defend if it comes to it. With a click of his tongue, he swings his legs out of the bed and gets up, a semblance of a plan forming.
They should scavenge from the nearby apartments, to look for more supplies, guns, Mason is sure one of their neighbors should have a gun or two and lastly see if there's any people left.
Mason nudges Sam awake, "Up and at 'em kid"
A groan is his only answer as Sam turns away from him, Cheeky bugger. "Cheshire" He calls getting his partners attention. "Sammy here wants to play"
Cheshire without an ounce of hesitation runs and leaps onto the bed, then goes on the offensive licking, poking with her nose and pawing at Samantha.
A delighted giggle that Mason feels like he hasn't heard in years lets him know Sam is awake. "I'm up, I'm Up. Cheshire stop"
Cheshire doesn't stop.
~~~
Within the hour the trio of Mason, Sam and Cheshire are ready and prepared to leave the orphanage for the first time in days.
"Stick close," he told Samantha as they strapped on their backpacks. "We go out, look fast, and come right back. No splittin' up."
"I know," Samantha said, gripping the Baseball bat.
"Good."
They left through the back, squeezing out a narrow gap Mason had created in the barricade, just enough for a person and a dog.
Mason held his metal rod in one hand, his Glock strapped to his waist alongside the small axe he found yesterday.
The first building they searched was an old rundown apartment duplex across the street. Its front door hung open, creaking slightly as the morning breeze nudged it.
Mason raised a hand. "Stay behind me."
They entered slow.
The living room was trashed, furniture overturned, broken glass scattered across the floor. Thankfully no roamers or even people.
"Someone left in a hurry," Samantha whispered.
"Yeah," Mason murmured. "Let's check the kitchen."
They found a few cans of soup, some unspoilt fruit and surprisingly some dog treats.
"Cheshire can have this!"
Cheshire barked softly, tail wagging. Mason cracked a small grin. "Take it."
As they turned to leave the kitchen, a thump came from down the hall. One of the bedrooms.
Mason froze. Samantha clutched the Bat tight.
Another thump. A dragging shuffle. Before a soft thud as it hits up against the closed door. Mason's stomach sank. "Back up. Slow."
Can't risk it getting out as we search the house. Mason looks at Sam, who's clearly afraid. Plus, she needs to get used to these things and learn how to kill one.
"Alright wait here, I'll take care of it" as he moves towards the door. He feels a small tug on his jacket. Looking down Mason can see Sam holding onto his jacket.
He crouches down to her level, taking her hand in his, "It's okay, I got this. Watch closely you'll have to do this eventually"
Sam nods timidly, putting both hands on her bat. Mason walks to the door, still hearing slight thuds as the roamer bangs against the door letting Mason know it's right up against the door.
Taking a breath, Mason lightly pulls down the door and pushing it open slightly, it only stops when coming into contact with the roamer. Who answers with snarls pushing against the door, Mason boots the door as hard as he could.
The door crashes into the roamer, sending it stumbling back and falling onto the ground. Mason enters quickly and rams his metal rod into its head before it can even make a move.
Samantha came to the door and stared at the now dead roamer, breathing unevenly.
"You, okay?" Mason asked softly, coming to stand next to her.
She nodded fast. "I'm fine. Just… didn't think I'd see one so close again."
"You'll see more," Mason admitted. "But I'll... No, we'll handle 'em. That's a promise."
They explored two more houses, both mostly empty. A few more cans. Some bandages. A half-used bottle of rubbing alcohol. A pack of matches. Nothing major, but enough to make the trip somewhat worthwhile.
Then, as they circled back toward the orphanage, they heard it shuffling gait, lazy and heavy. Another walker stumbled around the corner of a brick building, spotted them, and let out a low growl.
Mason exhaled through his nose. "Stay back."
This one was easy; Mason swung the rod into its knee first, dropping it to the pavement. The second hit ended it.
"Two is enough today," Mason muttered, wiping the rod on the grass. "Let's head back. We got what we came for."
As they re-entered the orphanage, Samantha shut the door behind them and leaned against it, letting out a small breath. "I'll make dinner" she says heading upstairs to grab some cans.
Mason watches her leave with Cheshire trailing after her, a smile on his face knowing for a fact he's the one who is going to be forced to make dinner.
But that smile slowly fades as he knows that things are only going to get harder; the orphanage is hardly safe, they are almost out of ammo, and they don't have enough food to last.
"We'll have to move, my apartment would work" he mutters to himself.
~End