Charlie watched as his dad crouched over the wolf, his hands steady as he cleaned and skinned it with practiced precision. The meat would be useful—not just to fill their bellies, but because it seemed to be charged with energy. Every time they ate fresh game, especially predators, they felt stronger, more alive. The world's changes had seeped into everything, even their food.
They continued on, leaving the bloodied wolf carcass behind as they followed the path toward the Amish farm. The forest thinned out gradually, the dense trees giving way to open fields dotted with wildflowers. The late afternoon sun bathed the landscape in golden light, and a soft breeze rustled the tall grass on either side of the dirt trail.
Charlie glanced around as they walked, the crossbow bouncing lightly against his back. His dad had insisted he bring it, saying he'd earned the right after passing his "certification"—hours of target practice under his father's watchful eye. The crossbow still felt heavy, but Charlie was stronger now. Everyone was.
The food they ate—the fruits, vegetables, and game from the "new world," as Charlie called it—seemed to fill their bodies with energy. His muscles had grown, his reflexes had sharpened, and even his stamina had improved. But the animals had changed too. Predators were larger, faster, and more aggressive. Even prey animals, like deer, seemed unnervingly alert.
Charlie shivered slightly, tightening his grip on the straps of his pack. He didn't want to think about what might happen without their weapons.
The walk stretched on, but they eventually reached the outskirts of the Amish community. From a distance, Charlie could see several barns and houses grouped together, their simple structures sturdy and weathered. A larger structure was being built near the center, its foundation made of thick logs. Horses pulled carts filled with lumber, while men worked to secure beams into place.
"What do you think they're building?" Charlie asked, his voice curious.
David didn't answer, his focus on the watchtower that rose above the settlement. A man stood inside, leaning on a bell. A moment later, the clear, sharp sound rang out across the fields, echoing into the quiet.
Charlie's stomach tightened. The bell was a warning, he realized—a way to alert the community that strangers were approaching.
As they neared the settlement, a younger man, maybe in his early twenties, stepped out to meet them. He carried a spear, his posture tense but steady. Behind him, several other men stood with weapons, including compound bows like the ones Charlie's family used. The younger man had a faint bruise on his cheek, as if he'd been in a fight recently.
David raised his hands slowly, his voice calm. "I mean no harm. Is Jebadiah here?"
The young man hesitated, his grip tightening on the spear.
"Stand down, stand down," called a deep, steady voice.
A man stepped forward from the group, his movements brisk but unhurried. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his frame solid from years of hard labor. His beard, streaked with gray, framed a face weathered by sun and time. He wore simple dark trousers held up by suspenders, and his white shirt was rolled at the sleeves.
"David Green," the man said, a small smile breaking through his serious expression. "How are you, my friend?"
David smiled back. "Doing alright, Jeb. Seen better days, though. Wouldn't you agree?"
Jebadiah nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, yes, I would."
"What brings you here, Sheriff?"
"I'd like to barter," David said. "I need to use your horses and a wagon to haul an industrial crate. And… I'd like to trade information."
As the two men spoke, the ground beneath them rumbled faintly. It wasn't the sharp jolt of an earthquake, but a slow, rolling tremor. Charlie glanced at Amber, and they exchanged a knowing look. The tremors were happening more often, a constant reminder of the Earth's instability.
Jebadiah gestured toward one of the larger houses. "How about you and your wife come inside and speak with my wife and me over a drink?"
David glanced at Renee, who gave him a small nod.
"And your children can play with the other kids," Jebadiah continued warmly. "Your eldest can join the women."
Charlie followed his family toward the fenced-in area, where a group of boys was playing soccer. Charlie counted about fifteen of them, ranging in age from six to thirteen. Some were around his age, but most were older. Their shouts and laughter filled the air, blending with the distant sounds of hammering and horse hooves.
Charlie hesitated at the edge of the fence, watching the boys play. The ball skidded across the dirt, and one of the older boys—probably thirteen—kicked it hard, sending it flying into the air.
Charlie took a deep breath and hopped over the fence. He wasn't shy, and he didn't see any reason to stand around when there was a game to join.
The boys glanced at him briefly, some with curiosity, others with indifference. One of the younger boys kicked the ball toward him, and Charlie grinned, charging into the game.
The older boys were better—faster, stronger, and more coordinated—but Charlie didn't let that intimidate him. Like his sister Gretchin, he was a natural athlete, and even though the older boys often outmatched him, he found ways to hold his own.
At one point, he managed to steal the ball from a boy nearly twice his size. The older boy gave him a surprised look before chasing after him. Charlie laughed as he dodged, weaving through the younger boys and kicking the ball toward the makeshift goal.
Even when he couldn't score, Charlie refused to back down. The game was rough, but he didn't care.