Chapter 17
We're not the only ones
They meet an older couple who were on the run and staying off grid they didn't believe in getting the vaccine and decided to go off grid when they first heard of the vaccine in the woods outside of town and had built a little house and let them stay the night they wake up to see these people had started a little society in the woods a few other people also had made little shelters or homes all desqused in the deep part of the woods they call this exile and we call ourselves the exiled survivers the olf man says to them .
The biting chill of the late autumn air did little to rouse Emma from her uneasy slumber. She stirred, a groan escaping her lips as she shifted beneath the rough-spun blanket. Beside her, Trevor’s breathing was a steady, rhythmic counterpoint to the rustling leaves outside their makeshift shelter. The scent of damp earth and pine needles filled her nostrils, a stark contrast to the sterile, recycled air of the news studio. It had been a whirlwind of a night, a desperate flight from the city after their near-fatal discovery, and now… this.
She blinked her eyes open, the faint predawn light filtering through the gaps in the woven branches that formed their roof. The small, rough-hewn cabin they’d been guided to was surprisingly warm, a testament to the ingenuity of their hosts. An older couple, their faces etched with the hardships of a life lived on the fringes, had offered them refuge. They’d spoken in hushed tones of the vaccine, of their deep-seated distrust, and of a decision made long ago to simply… disappear.
“You’re awake,” Trevor’s voice, raspy with sleep, cut through the quiet. He was already sitting up, his gaze fixed on something beyond the cabin’s flimsy door.
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