Chapter 457: Margaret’s Helping

It was afternoon at the Boardwalk, but nobody was resting.

Ever since the Screamer attack, the settlement had been moving nonstop.

The damage was too great to repair in a single day.

Still, nobody complained.

They rebuilt.

And this time, they were rebuilding stronger.

The Screamer had changed the way people looked at the Boardwalk.

Before, it had been a relatively safe place. Not perfect, but protected. There were barricades, armed guards, people who knew how to fight, and enough survivors to make the settlement feel alive. They had believed that if they stayed alert and kept the Infected outside, they could survive.

But Callighan had shown them how fragile that safety really was.

He had sent people into the Boardwalk’s blind spots. He had placed Screamer devices where nobody noticed them. Then, in the middle of the night, he had used the sound to pull Infected from every direction and drive them into a frenzy.

The Boardwalk had almost fallen.

Everyone knew it.

And everyone knew Callighan could try again.

Maybe he would rebuild another Screamer. Maybe he would send more of his people to sabotage the settlement from inside. Maybe he would stop playing games and bring enough armed men from Brigantine to wipe them out directly. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Nobody knew which one would happen.

That uncertainty was what made the air feel so tense.

Marlon had made it clear that, from now on, nobody could afford to lower their guard.

The night shifts had been reinforced. More people stood watch near the barricades, roofs, and upper windows. Patrols moved through the Boardwalk in pairs instead of alone. Every street that could serve as an entrance had guards nearby, and nobody was allowed to wander too far without telling someone where they were going.

The Golden Nugget Hotel had become especially important.

Rico and several armed men were holding it now. From the upper floors, they had a clear view across the water and toward Brigantine. If Callighan’s people started moving in large numbers, or if boats began leaving the town, Rico’s group would have a chance to see it before the attack reached the Boardwalk.

It was not perfect.

Nothing was perfect anymore.

But it meant they would not be caught completely off guard again.

And despite the fear, something else had grown after the Screamer attack.

Hope.

Not the childish kind of hope that everything would suddenly become easy.

It was the harder kind.

The kind built after surviving something that should have destroyed them.

The Boardwalk had not faced the Screamer alone. Margaret’s community had come to help. Survivors who barely knew each other a few weeks ago were now repairing barricades together, sharing food, tending injuries, and taking turns keeping watch.

The connection between the communities had become stronger.

Nobody knew how long that peace would last.

But for now, they were working as one.

In Brighton Park, away from the loudest parts of the reconstruction effort, the small garden had become one of the few places that still felt calm.

The vegetable beds had been carefully arranged in a protected section of the park. Rows of young plants grew from the earth, their leaves moving gently in the afternoon wind. There were vegetables, herbs, and a few small fruit plants that people had managed to preserve and grow since the outbreak.

It was not enough to feed everyone forever.

Not yet.

But it mattered.

Food that did not come from scavenging.

Food that did not depend on fishing, hunting, or risking someone’s life outside the barricades.

After the Screamer attack, many people had feared the garden would be gone.

With so many Infected flooding into the Boardwalk, it would have been easy for them to trample through the crops, ruin the soil, and destroy months of work in minutes.

Yet somehow, the garden had been spared.

Carmen stood near one of the vegetable beds, listening carefully as Margaret spoke.

Carmen already knew more than most people about growing crops. She had helped take care of gardens before, and since joining the Boardwalk’s recovery effort, she had been trying to make the small patch of land in Brighton Park as useful as possible.

But standing beside Margaret made her feel inexperienced.

Margaret was simply on another level.

She crouched beside a row of plants, carefully touching the leaves between her fingers without harming them. Her movements were gentle and patient. There was a calm smile on her face as she explained what she was doing, and the people around her listened closely.

Carmen.

A few other survivors.

Even Shannon.

That alone was almost unbelievable.

Shannon was usually restless, talkative, and easily distracted. But now she stood beside Carmen, watching Margaret’s hands and listening as if every word mattered.

Margaret had that kind of presence.

Something warm and grandmotherly.

She made people want to listen.

She made even the quietest advice feel important.

"Thankfully, this place doesn’t seem to have been touched by the Infected," Margaret said as she slowly stood up.

She brushed a little dirt from her hands and looked across the garden.

"With the number that came into the Boardwalk, I expected at least some of the crops to be damaged."

Carmen nodded.

"So did I."

She looked over the rows of plants again.

The Screamer attack had been chaos. Infected had flooded streets, smashed through homes, and chased survivors through the dark. The thought that they had somehow avoided this part of Brighton Park almost felt unreal.

"Maybe it was because the garden is isolated," Carmen said. "The Infected didn’t reach this far."

"Maybe," Margaret replied.

Her smile softened.

"Or maybe we were simply lucky."

Carmen knew luck did not last forever.

Neither did Margaret, probably.

That was why this place needed protection.

"We should reinforce the area anyway," Carmen said. "If we want to expand the garden, we need to make sure it stays safe. And spreading it will be harder than people think. The ground needs work. Some areas are not fertile enough, and we do not have enough tools."

Margaret nodded, clearly pleased that Carmen understood the problem.

"I can help with that," she said. "It is mostly about the soil, sunlight, water, and patience. You need to keep checking the plants too. You can’t simply put seeds in the ground and expect everything to grow by itself."

She looked toward the hotel district.

"Back in Jackson Township, we had a larger garden. We learned a lot from trial and error. We are doing something similar near the hotel now, though it will take time before it gives us much."

"It will be worth it," Carmen said.

"It will," Margaret agreed. "It always is."

Carmen gave her a grateful smile.

"We would really appreciate your help."

Margaret nodded once.

"Of course."

Then she began walking toward another part of the garden, where a few people were checking the wooden borders around the crop beds.

The moment she was far enough away, Shannon looked up at Carmen.

"So, Mom," she asked hopefully, "are we finally going to stop eating fish every day?"

Carmen could not help laughing.

"Even though you hated vegetables before, now you want them?"

"I’m tired of fish," Shannon replied.

Her face twisted as though she could already smell it.

"Every day, fish. Fish soup, grilled fish, fried fish, fish with whatever weird things people find to put with fish."

Carmen shook her head, still smiling.

"Well, I can make something else today."

Shannon’s eyes brightened immediately.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Yeah!" Shannon said, letting out a small giggle.

For a brief moment, she looked like a normal fourteen-year-old girl again.

Not someone who had spent the night trapped in a bedroom while Infected tried to break through the door.

Not someone who had nearly lost her mother.

Carmen’s smile stayed on her face, but something tightened quietly inside her chest.

She reached over and smoothed Shannon’s hair.

"We’ll find something," she said.

"Carmen."

A voice called from the edge of the garden.

Carmen turned.

Maribel stood there.

She looked composed at first, but the closer Carmen looked, the more she noticed the nervousness in her expression. Her hands were held together in front of her, and her eyes briefly moved toward Shannon before returning to Carmen.

"Maribel," Shannon said immediately.

She hurried toward her with a curious expression.

"Have you seen Ryan?"

Maribel blinked.

"He’s busy," she said quickly. "And recovering. Don’t bother him too much."

Shannon tilted her head.

"But you’re always bothering him."

Maribel froze.

"I—I am not!"

Her face turned redder.

"I mean," Maribel continued, trying to recover, "I don’t bother him. I just... make sure he is okay."

"Sounds like bothering him," Shannon said.

Maribel opened her mouth.

Then closed it again.

For a second, she looked like she had no idea how to answer a fourteen-year-old girl.

Finally, she let out a quiet breath and forced herself to look at Carmen.

"Can we speak?" she asked.

Her voice had become more serious.

"Alone."

Carmen’s expression changed slightly.

She glanced toward Shannon, then back at Maribel.

Something was clearly bothering her.

Carmen did not know whether it was about Ryan, the cure, or something else entirely. But after everything that had happened, she had learned that quiet, serious conversations rarely meant nothing.

She nodded.

"Of course."

Then she looked down at Shannon.

"Stay here with the others, okay? Help Margaret if she needs anything."

Shannon’s face dropped a little.

"But—"

"Shannon."

Her tone was gentle, but firm.

Shannon sighed.

"Okay."

Carmen watched her return toward the garden beds before turning back to Maribel.

Maribel waited silently.

And Carmen followed Maribel away from the garden.