I nod. “I remember us going up to the farmhouse. It’s all hazy though.”
Aiden continues, “Anyway, I ran up to this house. Curtis was there, holding a shotgun. It’s hard to blame him. I would have, too, if total strangers came running up.”
Curtis smiles and shrugs.
“I told him about everything that happened. That you had this infected cut, and we haven’t been able to find any antibiotics. He could tell you were in terrible shape. Curtis has connections around here. People he can trade supplies with. We were able to get antibiotics.”
“But I remember a barn, and I was bound up.”
Curtis nods. “Well, I refuse to turn away people in need. The world may have gone to hell, but I still have my morals. But with the Infection, I had to be sure you guys weren’t contagious. So I quarantined you in the barn for the first few days.”
My jaw drops open. “Days! How long have I been out?”
“You’ve been out for a week, Zach. It was touch and go for a bit there. The bacteria from the cut spread from your leg into your bloodstream.” Aiden puts his hand on my shoulder. “We had to bind you up. Sorry about that. You were thrashing around so much we were worried you’d hurt yourself or fall off the bed.”
“But I saw you on the ground, Aiden. I thought you were dead.” The memory gives me a chill.
“That must have been the first day when I fell asleep, exhausted. I carried you for miles through the pouring rain.”
Emotion overcomes me, and I wrap my arms around Aiden. “Thank you. I owe you my life.” I turn to Curtis. “And I owe you my life too.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” Curtis waves away the notion. “Except your thanks.”
“I don’t know how to thank you enough. And I’m sorry I tried to hit you with a frying pan,” I say, cringing.
“Aww, I’ve had a lot worse done to me,” Curtis says.
We all laugh.
*
For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, I do nothing but rest and eat. Curtis is a natural host, attending to my every need. Aiden apparently didn’t sleep well while I was recovering, so he’s taking a well-deserved nap.
By midafternoon, my head is no longer foggy, and my strength is returning. I relax on an overstuffed couch set up next to the fire. Sitting in it feels like a big warm hug. Curtis heads over from the kitchen.
“Zach, is there anything else I can get you?”
“I wouldn’t mind a little fresh air and a stretch of the legs.”
“Well, I’d love to give you a tour of the farm. If you feel up to it.”
“That sounds perfect.”
Curtis leads me outside. Next to the farmhouse is the barn, bordered by a fence. Goats, sheep, and cows, basking in the afternoon sunlight.
“This is Homestead Farm.” Curtis looks around with hands raised and a glint in his eye. “I moved here about ten years ago. I was fed up with city life, so I came out here to see if I could live more simply. Off the grid. Turns out I can.”
He leads me past the barn and out toward his fields. We approach a large structure covered in white plastic. “This is my greenhouse. Allows me to grow fruits and vegetables year-round.”
We enter through a slit on the wall. Inside, we’re greeted with row after row of plants in various stages of growth. Some rows are empty, others have small plants, and others bear fruits and vegetables.
“This is incredible. It’s like you’re custom built to withstand the apocalypse.”
Curtis smiles. “Well, this was more about trying to reduce my impact on the planet. But yeah, it had that benefit too.”
“How have you stayed safe out here? With militias roving about. And the Infected.”
Curtis guides me out of the greenhouse. “Follow me. I’ll show you.”
