Part 1 – A Place to Call Home

  March 18th – Day 3 Post-Fall

  On their first night in Star Valley, they slept on the roof of the EarthRoamer, atop the solar array compartment. They tangled together under the stars, their dreams woven with the rhythm of the land – a pulse only the valley could sing.

  They'd parked half a mile south of the northern tree line, roughly centered in the valley. The river ran fifty yards to the east, its current steady and clear. Dawn broke cold and clear. Birds erupted from the trees in chattering clouds. Deer grazed at the meadow's edge, their ears swiveling at every sound. The chickens were already awake, scratching and clucking, while the goats bleated impatiently for their morning feed.

  After a morning of exploration, everyone gathered around the truck, wonder glimmering in their eyes. Sarah nestled against Rob's chest, looking up at him with sparkling curiosity. Her eyes were taking stock of the land, and Rob imagined she had layouts drawn in him mind.

  Lisa handed out tin cups of coffee – bitter and black, but hot. Maria clutched her worn copy of Seed to Seed and stepped away from the camper. "I want to get seeds in the ground as soon as possible."

  Rob nodded. “Absolutely, and where our crops go depends a lot on where we set up a real camp, where we want to build our home," he said, his voice steady as all eyes turned to him, filled with possibility.

  Maria cuddled in closer to Rob and Sarah. "I saw a spot just behind us, on a bit higher ground. Can I show you?" she asked eagerly. Everyone nodded and the group wandered around the truck, walking 50 yards further west away from the river.

  They arrived at a vast expanse of nearly perfectly flat meadow, gently sloping down toward the truck and the river beyond, which lay about 100 yards away. "This spot." Maria turned in a slow circle. "High ground, good drainage, close to water but not too close. It feels right. What do you think?"

  The others began to spread out, examining the site. Sarah walked the perimeter while Lisa inspected the center.

  Rob pulled out the rangefinder. Half a mile to the northern timber, forest wrapping west and east. Open grass in all directions. Even if the river flooded, it would take a biblical event to reach this elevation. This spot was safe.

  He returned to Maria, taking her hand as the others converged back to them. "I think this looks incredible. What do you all think?" he asked. Lisa beamed, while Sarah's gaze showed she was already planning the layout.

  "Absolutely!" and "100%!" they chimed in, sharing a warm hug on the plot of land that would soon become their home.

  A few moments later, Rob sat with Sarah and Lisa and Maria in the middle of the site, discussing the house they would build. His eyes were animated and bright as he shared his vision for the space. "Tell us what you’re thinking," Lisa smiled, sensing that the idea of their home was clear in his mind, and they were all eager to hear the plan.

  Rob looked at all of them. "I've spent years imagining this," Rob said, his eyes bright. "A raised foundation, thirty by thirty feet. Big enough for a kitchen, a fireplace, living space, storage." He traced the outline in the dirt with a stick. "Solid doors at both ends."

  Sarah leaned forward, studying his sketch. "That's huge."

  "And defensible," Lisa added, her eyes tracking the sight lines.

  Rob put his hand on Lisa’s arm. “And the second floor – twenty by twenty, centered above the first. Our bedrooms. Secured stairwell, wrap-around porch, heavy doors."

  Sarah leaned over his sketch, “it’s safe.”

  "And home," Maria added softly.

  Lisa nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Maria beamed, "Our new home, our heart and soul," she said, as she crawled across the group to hug Rob, and the rest soon joined in, enveloping him in a warm embrace in the green grass.

  Over the course of the next few days, the four of them began to set up an assembly line for the construction of their home, and one of the main assets they had in the construction was the EarthRoamer.

  The truck that Rob got from Lance’s widow had been a modified version of the EarthRoamer XV-HD, with extended solar and battery capacity.

  Sarah stood by the truck with her notepad, doing the math they'd need to survive. "Okay, the solar array pulls in about ten-thousand watt-hours on a good day. Refrigeration eats sixteen-hundred. Lights, another thousand."

  She looked up at Rob. "That leaves us over seven-thousand for power tools."

  Rob let out a breath. "God, I hate electrical calculations,” he grimaced. “So we can actually run the saws? The mill?"

  "We can run everything," Sarah said, a small smile breaking through. "Your man Lance built this thing with enough juice for a mobile construction site," she grinned.

  After the first few days were spent gathering, measuring, and sketching ideas on notepads and hammering stakes into the soil, as well as sorting tools pulled from the trailer, the labor of dream-building began in earnest. And in terms of labor, the women fell into their roles like water finding its level. Sarah became their logistics mind, calculating board feet and tracking tool rotations with the same precision she'd once applied to financial models. Lisa took to the physical work with quiet intensity, her arms growing corded with muscle as she hauled timber and ran the mill. Maria focused on food, spending dawn-to-dusk in the garden plot, coaxing life from the soil with a tenderness that made Rob's chest ache.

  During the 1st week of construction, Sarah had mapped out 20 post-holes for the foundation of the house, and over the course of the first week, these 20 holes were dug, 20-ft 8x8 inch timber posts were char-treated to help prevent rot, and sunk into Quikrete cement collars.

  Maria began preparing a 1-acre plot of land for planting and managing the animals; she built a corral for the goats and sheep, and started work on a small chicken enclosure. Later in the afternoons, all four of them worked in the field to make sure the seeds were planted as soon as possible.

  Lisa fired up the Wood-Mizer and watched the battery gauge on the EarthRoamer drop. The mill was a beast – it could turn a raw log into dimensional lumber, but it drank power like a dying man drinks water.

  "How long can we run it?" Rob called over the whine of the blade.

  Lisa checked her watch against the battery monitor. "Three hours, maybe four if the sun holds. Then we're dark until tomorrow."

  "Then we don't waste a single cut," Rob said, rolling another log onto the bed.

  On the third day, Rob misjudged a cut and wasted a precious 8x8 post. He stared at the ruined timber, jaw clenched, fury at himself rising like bile. Lisa found him there, fists balled. "We have more trees," she said quietly. "We don't have another you. Take a breath."

  In the 2nd week, the build moved to establishing horizontal girders connecting the posts at 4-ft above the meadow for the ground floor and 10-ft higher for the 2nd floor. Lisa transitioned to milling the girders, and they were lashed onto the vertical columns with bolts and fasteners they’d pulled out of the Pioneer Supply hardware store. With the girders in place, they were able to begin laying the subfloor on the ground-floor level.

  This was the single biggest morale boost for everyone; by the end of the 2nd week, they had a 900-sq-ft elevated space in which they could sleep, prepare their food, and begin to lay stone for a hearth and a kitchen stove.

  Sarah's meticulous planning hit a wall on Day 12 when they discovered the girders were a half-inch off.

  "It's just a half-inch," Lisa said, wiping sweat from her forehead. "We can work around it."

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  "No." Sarah's voice was tight. She pointed to the sketch. "A half-inch here becomes three inches at the roofline. The walls won't be square. The roof won't seat properly. In the first heavy snow, the whole structure could shift."

  Lisa stared at the girders. "Fuck."

  "We have to redo it," Sarah said quietly. "All of it."

  The others were silent. They'd worked for three days on those girders. Rob looked at Sarah's face – pale, stricken, but certain.

  "She's right," he said. "We do it right, or we do it twice."

  Lisa just shook her head. "A half-damn-inch," she muttered, and walked away to fetch the crowbar.

  Sarah stared at the mis-aligned girders after Lisa had stormed out, her stomach clenching. To her, it wasn’t just off, it was wrong. She’d measured and remeasured a dozen times, and the lines needed to meet. If they didn’t meet here, they would continue not to meet, and that was simply unacceptable.

  The initial deer that were stored in the refrigeration unit of the truck had proved invaluable, allowing them to sustain themselves without worry for protein. And as they weeks wore on, Rob was able to maintain their supply with the ample populations of game in the area. Meanwhile, Lisa cleverly formed a section of the river into a makeshift fish farm, trapping several fish with primitive traps placed in other sections.

  On their fourteenth night of hard labor, exhausted and aching, they lay on their backs behind the EarthRoamer and watched the stars emerge. The Milky Way sprawled above them, impossibly bright without light pollution.

  "We should name things," Lisa said quietly. "Make this place ours."

  Sarah rolled onto her side. "The mountains to the east – they look like a spine. The Eastern Spine?"

  "Perfect," Maria breathed. "And the river – the Pike River, after the northern range?"

  Rob felt something settle in his chest. They weren't just building a house. They were claiming a home, naming it, making it theirs in a way that went deeper than ownership. "The Oak Savannah to the west," he offered. "And the redwoods south – the ElderDeep Forest."

  "Star Valley," Sarah whispered, "right in the middle of it all."

  They lay in silence, the names hanging in the air like a benediction. This was theirs now. All of it.

  Throughout the 3rd week, the walls started to go up, with broad open windows in each direction. On the 2nd floor, the floor girders were in place; a simple narrow stairway was built, and the rough subfloor went in, which raised a roof over the 2nd floor footprint on the 1st floor.

  Rob's hands were a map of cuts and calluses. The walls rose slowly – each board a small victory against the enormity of what they were attempting. Sarah worked beside him, anticipating his needs before he voiced them, while Lisa kept the mill running from dawn until the light failed.

  For Lisa, running the mill was a relief. She welcomed the burn in her shoulders. It was a clean pain, one that blotted out the static of fear. The blades whine filled her skull, leaving no room for the echo of that scream from the woman on the highway they’d heard.

  Out in the yard, Maria's back seized up while hauling water to the garden. She collapsed, gasping, unable to straighten. Rob carried her in to the house and set her down on some blankets in the middle of the floor, fear tight in his chest. They lost two days while she recovered, lying flat with hot compresses. "I'm slowing us down," she whispered. "You're keeping us alive," he countered.

  Maria lay flat on the blankets, her back screaming with every breath. Rob had told her to rest. Sarah had brought her water. Lisa had squeezed her hand and said, "Two days. You'll be back."

  But Maria stared at the ceiling, guilt gnawing at her.

  A spider was building a web in the rafters above the rough-hewn kitchen table. Slow, methodical, patient. It worked through the afternoon, anchoring silk to the beams, weaving the spiral with precision.

  You are still working, Maria thought. Why can't I?

  But the spider wasn't rushing. It wasn't forcing. It was just... building. One thread at a time.

  Maria closed her eyes and tried to breathe through the pain.

  Two days, she told herself. Then I’m back.

  Toward the end of the week, after the fireplace was completed, they gathered for their first night under the half-built 2nd floor of their home with a real fire burning in their new fireplace. The walls were only partially completed, and the second floor didn’t yet have any walls, but the fireplace felt like the heart of the space. The warm glow from the hearth cast their shadows across the wall behind them as they held each other close.

  The four of them curled up in a pile beside the radiating hearth, feeling a profound sense of belonging and hope.

  By the middle of the 4th week, the roof of the 1st floor went in, with roof trusses and planks and corrugated sheet metal. This roof was really just a 10-ft wide skirt around the central 20x20-ft 2nd floor, but it was a major accomplishment; the 1st floor was now essentially weatherproof.

  As the first-floor neared completion, attention shifted to the second floor. Rob had been dreading this day – decision day. He had come to love these women deeply, down to his soul. They were becoming an extension of his heart; the love he felt for them was profound, an existential connection that he couldn’t name with words.

  He gathered them all together during mid-day in the middle of their 4th-week of construction. Sarah sat next to him with a tablet of paper from the truck and a pencil, while Lisa and Maria completed the circle.

  "We need to plan the second floor. We’re ready to frame it and get a roof up. We need to think about sleeping arrangements, rooms, and such," he started. He knew what he wanted, but he hesitated to push for it; his idea was unorthodox and hard to explain. "What do you all think," he asked, a hint of reservation in his voice.

  Much to his surprise, the women began fidgeting with their clothes, picking dirt from their nails, and doodling on their notepads. Rob looked around, but they didn’t meet his gaze. "We, uh, we could, well, you know, divide the upper space into, well, four rooms, and..." he trailed off, waiting.

  Sarah was busy diagramming a sweet little scene of their home, complete with animal pens and the river in her doodled drawing, while Lisa stared into the hearth. Through all their trials, fears, hopes, and tangled bodies of deep sleep, this moment hung awkwardly in the air, feeling foreign. Finally, Maria looked up at him, her gaze piercing through his uncertainty. "Rob, what do you really think," she asked.

  Rob swallowed hard. "For a month now, we've slept together. All of us. Every night." He looked at the fire, then forced himself to meet their eyes. "In the camper, on the roof, here by this hearth. Those nights…” His voice cracked. "I don't want to give that up. I don't want separate rooms."

  The women shared glances, a silent understanding passing between them, and Rob felt the tension release in their soft exhales. Maria reached out, gently taking his chin in her fingers and raising his gaze to meet hers. Her dark eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say.

  Maria's eyes filled. "Rob." She wiped her face with her palm, leaving a smudge of dirt. "A month ago, I was just trying not to die. I didn't know what I wanted, what I was hoping for." She looked at Sarah and Lisa, then back at him. "But this – waking up with you three, falling asleep tangled together – it's the only thing that makes sense anymore. It's home."

  A single tear escaped, trailing down her cheek as she continued. "Sharing a bed with you, with all of you, being wrapped in your collective warmth and affection each night...it’s become the highlight of my days. A reminder that I’m not alone anymore, that I have people who care about me, who see me." She reached out, intertwining her fingers with his.

  Sarah bit her lip. "This is... we know this isn't normal, right? What we're doing?"

  "Normal died with the old world," Lisa said quietly.

  "Maybe," Sarah said, her voice sharpening. "But we should be honest about what this is. What we're choosing. Because if we're doing this – sharing a bed – we need to know it's not just... convenience. Not just survival."

  Maria looked down at her hands. "It's not just survival for me."

  Lisa met Sarah's eyes. "It's not for me either."

  Sarah looked at Rob. "And you?"

  Rob's throat tightened. "I'm choosing all of you. Not because it's easy. Not because the world ended. Because I want this. But only if you're choosing too."

  The women looked at each other. Some silent communication passed between them – something Rob couldn't quite read, but felt the weight of.

  Then, one by one, they nodded.

  "Okay," Sarah said quietly. "Then we build one room."

  The first floor had open, empty windows with sturdy shutters that could block out the cold wind and offer protection. However, the first floor felt rustic, like a cabin. The second floor, by contrast, was radiant and warm. Rob had saved four large bay windows, carefully stowed away from the hardware store. And a few days into the 5th week, as he and Sarah framed everything out, he surprised her by fitting and installing those majestic windows.

  "Oh my god, Rob – these are amazing! I didn't know we had these," she exclaimed, hugging him tightly. "Wait until Lisa and Maria see these," she shrieked, excitement bubbling over as they finished installing the last window. "Let’s surprise them tonight," she smiled brightly.

  Rob continued to install the solar panels on the second-floor roof and then set up the huge battery banks in the crawl space under the house. A small door in a corner provided access to the first-floor roof and the external ladder leading up to the second-floor roof.

  Sarah worked tirelessly the rest of the day, making a huge bed out of crushed dried grass stuffed inside some old sheets from the truck. She assembled the bed in the middle of the room and fashioned pillows, her anticipation growing. "I can't wait!" she squealed.

  As Lisa and Maria climbed the stairs at sunset to see the completed bedroom for the first time, their hearts nearly stopped in their chests. They both began to cry tears of joy at the sight of the windows and the bed, hugging and kissing Rob, then embracing Sarah, tears streaming down their faces as they shouted with joy.

  Later that night, as the group settled into the massive, custom-built bed, a sense of rightness enveloped them. The rough-cloth sheets felt cool and crisp against their skin, a stark contrast to the cramped confines of the camper truck. They arranged themselves naturally, instinctively finding positions that allowed maximum contact without sacrificing comfort. Maria curled up on one side, her head resting on Rob's chest. She traced idle patterns on his skin as she listened to the steady beat of his heart.

  "This is perfect," she murmured, her voice drowsy with contentment. "Our own little haven, filled with the people we love most."

  Outside their home, in the meadows of Star Valley, a cool breeze rustled over the waving grass and put a sway into the pine boughs. There was no scent of smoke or burning diesel or the sickly-sweet stench of decay, but the fire that was consuming their world continued to burn. It had been just over 5-weeks since ‘The Fall’ had occurred – the completely collapse of society – and although their bedroom was warm and the hearth and stove kept them nourished, in the backs of their minds they all knew that the world would eventually find them.