Book 1: At the Edge of Misery
Cristine Daya Gerrard, a young residency doctor in the apocalypse must mend the pieces with her broken and estranged family, while fighting for her place in a community that doesn't accept her. One man in particular doe...
Hi guys!!! I'm completely fueled again from my break. Thank you for all the sweet messages, I didn't realize y'all missed my story that much XD. I'm so glad to be back and writing again! Without further ado, here's the next chapter.
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Though Cristine wasn't used to the farm life, dawn was one of her favorite times. She didn't mind getting up early from the bed linen when the new rays of the day struggled through. Dressed in her freshly laundered outdoor garb and baseball cap, she strode to the gate area first.
She and a few people were in charge of checking all the fence work. There was even new lumber to strengthen the weak spots. Both at the entrance and the cattle.
Fresh meat attracted the dead. The people and farm animals on the Ranch combined was like ringing the supper bells. If, by any chance the dead made it all the way here, horde or not, the fences needed to hold.
There was a system for more patrolling as well, but by the the core of the militiamen and women still did the gas and supply runs.
Since the new policies were implemented by the Otto's and fully backed by the Founding Fathers, most people realized they still had a lot of work to do. But they diligently did their parts and without complaints.
They even set up a new outpost, the one owned by Phil McCarthy. It was going to be used again so that they could cover possible inconsistencies. If he needed backup, he would be joined by volunteers.
No one was stationed near the other outpost yet, but Cristine had volunteered. From what she was told, it wasn't that far from some old Indian Reservation. Cristine didn't know the exact specifics, but until stated otherwise, no one would be assigned to man the place.
At the sound of an engine drawing close she looked up. One of the trucks delivered more wood for the barbed fences and Cristine got up to help unload the processed and unprocessed planks.
As the day progressed, the weather remains the same. Sunshine in the bones, its heat radiating into the bright day. Cristine worked until her skin takes on a glossy shine on her complexion that bronzed over time under the sun. As she kept fastening the barbed wires together, the sweat didn't bother her as much anymore. It was actually a welcome addition, cooling and helping her to feel like she's worked hard; it's only when her feet come to a stop that she feels just how wet her clothing had become.
If Hailey saw her, she'd freak out. For a city girl, she and her mother were the worst at adapting. It was probably why they worked the kitchen and pantry so often.
"You're making progress." Cristine tensed in spite of herself, but she turned either way and with his hands on his hips saw her father.
It felt like she hadn't seen him in ages and keeping herself occupied was the best remedy to not think about him. It had been four days since Cristine last saw James. He wasn't even with Dolores during lunch time and Cristine guessed he was out drunk again.
