Day 48: Fortifying
The first light of dawn filtered through the dusty windows of the museum, casting long, pale beams across the marble floors. The oppressive heat from the previous days had finally given way to a cooler morning, offering a brief respite from the relentless tension of survival. The museum's grand halls, once filled with relics of a distant past, now echoed with the sounds of the group preparing to turn it into a fortress.
Cass had already begun giving orders, her voice calm but firm as she outlined the tasks for the day. The museum, with its thick stone walls and solid structure, was a good place to make a stand, but it needed work. There were cracks in the walls, unsecured windows, and doors that could easily be forced open. If they were going to stay here, even temporarily, it had to be fortified.
"We need to start with the windows," Cass said, gesturing to the tall, cracked glass panes that lined the museum's grand entrance hall. "Those are the biggest vulnerabilities. We'll board them up, reinforce them with anything we can find."
Luke and Raya were already gathering supplies—planks of wood, metal scraps, anything they could use to cover the windows and strengthen the doors. The museum had plenty of old furniture and display cases that could be dismantled and repurposed, and the group wasted no time in getting to work.
Eli, the knight's helmet still firmly on his head, moved to help. The helmet was heavy, and it limited his vision, but it also gave him a sense of purpose, a way to focus on something other than the pain and shame of his injuries. He joined Luke in prying loose a long wooden plank from an old, rotting bench, his movements careful but determined.
"Start with the main hall," Cass instructed, her eyes scanning the room. "We need to make sure the entrances are secure before anything else."
The group moved quickly, working together to gather materials and fortify the museum. The sound of hammers striking wood echoed through the halls as they nailed planks over the windows, sealing off the most vulnerable points. Luke and Eli worked side by side, lifting heavy wooden beams and securing them in place with nails scavenged from broken furniture.
Raya and Jay focused on the doors, adding locks and reinforcing them with metal brackets. The museum's main doors were sturdy, but they weren't invulnerable. With the right tools, they could be forced open, and that was a risk none of them could afford. They found old iron bars in one of the storage rooms and used them to brace the doors, securing them tightly from the inside.
As they worked, the tension that had gripped the group since Eli's injury began to ease, replaced by a quiet determination. They were still on edge, but the act of fortifying the museum gave them a sense of control, a way to push back against the chaos of the world outside.
Eli, despite the heat building up under his helmet, felt a grim satisfaction in the work. Each nail driven into the wood, each crack sealed, was a small victory—a way to protect the group and, in some way, atone for his perceived weakness. The weight of the helmet was reassuring, a constant reminder that he was still here, still fighting, even if his face and arms bore the scars of that struggle.
"Eli, over here," Luke called out, waving him over to a section of wall where a large crack ran from the floor to the ceiling. The crack wasn't wide, but it was deep, and if left unattended, it could easily become a way for something—or someone—to break in.
Eli joined Luke, and together they began sealing the crack with a mix of plaster they had found in a storage closet, adding wooden supports to reinforce the weak spot. The work was slow and tedious, but it was necessary. The museum needed to be secure, and every small detail mattered.
Meanwhile, Cass and Mae were securing the upper floors, checking for any weak points that could be exploited. The museum had several staircases leading to balconies and additional exhibit rooms, and each one needed to be locked down. They found old iron gates in the basement and used them to block off certain areas, ensuring that if anything did manage to get inside, it would be funneled into a more defensible position.
As the day wore on, the museum slowly transformed. The once-open windows were now covered with planks and metal sheets, the doors were reinforced with locks and bars, and the cracks in the walls had been sealed and supported. The grand hall, which had once been a place of learning and history, now looked more like a fortress—a place of defense in a world that had forgotten what peace looked like.
By the time the sun began to set, the group was exhausted but satisfied with their work. The museum wasn't impenetrable, but it was as secure as they could make it with the resources they had.
Eli stood back, surveying the fortified main hall. The helmet on his head was heavy, his face still throbbing with pain beneath the metal, but for the first time in days, he felt a small sense of accomplishment. The museum was secure, and for now, they had a place to rest, to plan, and to regroup.
Cass approached him, wiping sweat from her brow. "We did good today," she said, her voice steady but laced with exhaustion. "This place should hold, at least for a while."
Eli nodded, his voice muffled by the helmet. "It'll keep us safe."
Cass studied him for a moment, her eyes lingering on the helmet that covered his face. "You know," she said quietly, "you don't have to wear that all the time."
Eli hesitated, then shook his head. "I do," he replied, his tone firm. "It helps."
Cass didn't argue, but there was a softness in her eyes that made Eli look away. She reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder—just for a moment—before stepping back.
"Alright," she said, her voice filled with quiet understanding. "But if you ever need to talk, we're here."
Eli didn't respond, just gave a brief nod. He appreciated the offer, but right now, he wasn't ready for that. The helmet was his shield, both physically and emotionally, and he wasn't ready to let it go.
As night fell, the group gathered in the center of the fortified hall, their backs to the thick stone walls, the heavy doors locked and barred. The museum was dark, lit only by a few flickering candles, but it was secure. It was the closest thing to safety they had felt in a long time.
Eli sat down against one of the walls, the weight of the day's work settling into his bones. The pain in his face and arms was still there, but it was manageable, a distant throb that he could ignore for now. The helmet, with its narrow visor and solid weight, was a constant presence, grounding him in the here and now.
The museum was their sanctuary, at least for the time being.
And for Eli, behind the mask of the knight's helmet, it was a place where he could begin to rebuild—both the world around him and the person he had become.