Page 64 of What Remains

Seth followed Jay around the side and found what she'd promised: a massive steel-sided barn near the back, fitted with two oversized sliding doors. One hung partially open; the other stayed closed and dark.

Jay stopped about fifty yards out and muttered, "Same drill."

Everyone acknowledged. Rifles stayed ready. They kept their flashlight beams tight. The night didn't deserve to be surprised.

The cold bit Seth the instant he climbed out. His rifle rose to his shoulder without needing thought, and his eyes tracked the door, the shadows beyond, the space between.

Cara disappeared around the far side of the building while Jay approached the partially open entrance. Wind pushed at the loose metal, pulling a low, uneven groan from it, then silence, then another.

Jay paused. He listened.

Nothing moved.

Silence stretched after that—thick, deliberate.

No snarling. No footsteps. No movement at all. Just darkness and the faint scent of cold steel.

Jay swept his flashlight across the interior. Dust drifted lazily through the beam, catching the light like slow snow indoors. Rows of old tractors lined the space, with seed drills and hay balers pushed into the corners. Shelves held fertilizer bags, stacked and forgotten. Everything stayed still.

"Looks clear," Jay called quietly.

"Looks," Seth answered. Clear didn't survive long in their world.

They moved in together, boots echoing across concrete. Diesel fuel, grease, old hay, and cold metal filled the air. It should've been unpleasant, yet the familiarity of "a place to check" settled their nerves into something usable.

Cara reappeared from a side doorway. "Office is clear."

Jay nodded and kept the search moving, scanning for any sign that someone had already decided this space belonged to them. Seth walked slowly between rows of equipment, flashlight cutting tight lanes through the dark.

Then he stopped so suddenly his breath stalled.

Eyes reflected back at him—wide and bright.

Seth's finger tightened on the trigger before logic caught up.

Moooo.

"You've got to be kidding me."

A skinny brown cow wandered from behind an old combine, chewing lazily as though the barn's contents had nothing to do with incoming strangers. Another stepped out behind it. Then a third.

Jay lowered his rifle, letting out a shaky breath that plumed in the cold. "Jesus Christ. A second later and we'd be eating steak for a month."

Josie stepped inside, taking in the calm herd without panic. "They've been living in here."

One of the barn doors at the back had blown partially open, letting animals wander in and out. Seth looked toward that gap and realized what they hadn't seen anywhere else: no broken signs of recent disturbance, no scramble of frantic footprints, nothing suggesting anyone had come through with a plan to steal.

"They look healthy enough," Josie said.

"They've probably been eating spilled feed," Jay replied.

Seth tipped his head toward the back wall. "And nobody's bothered them."

Jay grunted in agreement. "Means people haven't been through here much. Good sign."

They swept the outbuildings and found the same story. The only tracks belonged to animals, the only dust disturbed by wind. The place was truly empty, abandoned.

Jay finally exhaled, and even that small motion sounded loud inside the barn. "I think this is it."