We made our way back from the fields at an easy pace, stopping every now and then to return the greetings of those who greeted us along the way.
The farmhouse sat ahead of us, quiet in the late morning light.
Smoke curled faintly from the chimney and somewhere in the distance I could hear the faint echo of kids shouting—probably chasing Ghost again.
For a few seconds neither of us said anything.
Just the sound of our footsteps on dirt and the feeling of the sweltering heat settling in.
Normal stuff.
"I'm setting up these TVs today," I said.
Maggie glanced at me, one brow lifting slightly, somewhat taken aback from the suddenness of this. "The ones you hauled in from back then?"
"Yeah."
"What're we watching?"
I snorted softly. "Not what you're thinking."
That got her attention.
She turned her head more fully now, her eyes narrowing just a little. "Alright… now I'm definitely thinking about it. What are we watching?"
I kept my gaze forward. "Training materials."
There was a beat.
"…Training materials?" she repeated, stunned.
"Before everything went to hell, I had my laptop loaded. USB backups, too," I went on.
"From carpentry basics to advanced framing. Medical—first aid, trauma response, field surgery fundamentals. Mechanical work—engines, maintenance, repair. Blacksmithing, small-scale forging setups, ammunition production—reloads, improvised methods, arrow crafting. How to identify herbs, how to handle and transform crude oil to fuel types, as well as the creation of biofuel."
I paused, then added, "Agriculture too. Crop rotation, soil management, irrigation."
Silence followed.
Then—
Maggie let out a long, slow, suffering sigh.
I finally looked at her.
She was staring at me like I'd just confirmed something she already knew deep down.
"I was thinking… maybe a movie," she said, looking despondent.
"Yeah, I thought so," I replied.
She let out another sigh, this one softer, almost amused.
She shook her head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Yeah," she muttered. "It's you alright."
I huffed out a quiet breath through my nose. "What's that supposed to mean?" I said, continuing before she could answer. "People need skills. Entertainment doesn't keep you alive."
"Mm-hm."
She didn't even argue it.
That was the thing about Maggie—she understood.
Didn't mean she had to like it.
Her shoulder bumped into mine.
"Still," she added, glancing sideways at me. "You couldn't have grabbed one decent movie?"
I let the silence stretch just long enough.
Then—
"…Got a separate drive."
She blinked. "…You're kidding."
"Classics. Some newer stuff. Enough for a rotation."
Now she stopped walking.
Actually stopped.
I took another step before noticing and turned back.
She was looking at me differently now—not annoyed, not exasperated.
Her eyes were a bit wider than usual before she softened.
"You planned that?" she asked softly.
I shrugged. "Morale matters, too."
A smile broke through properly this time, wider. "Damn right it does."
She closed the distance again, falling back into step beside me.
She kissed me on the cheek, her hand reached for mine, interlocking our fingers together.
"Alright," she said cheekily. "You're forgiven."
"Wasn't asking for it."
Giving me an annoyed look, she said, "Did you have to say that?"
I snorted.
The farmhouse grew closer and, just like that, the moment shifted from quiet… to work.
The meeting room was empty when we stepped in.
Good.
Less noise, less distraction.
The TVs were already stacked against the far wall along with the rest of the equipment I'd pulled aside earlier—cables, brackets, tools, inverter units tied into the solar setup that was built weeks ago.
I set to work without wasting time.
My focus narrowed.
Everything else faded.
"Hand me that bracket," I said.
Maggie passed it over without a word.
I mounted the first unit clean—measured by eye and leveled by instinct.
I drilled into the wall with sharp, controlled bursts.
Wood dust flew everywhere.
Next, I screwed in the bolts and tightened them in, leaving no room for it to wobble around.
The second unit came right after.
Next was to secure the cables.
I ran them through the walls, securing them using adhesive cable clips that required no additional hammering or drilling before tucking them away.
No slack where it didn't belong.
No clatter.
Finally, power routing.
The solar grid I'd set up wasn't much by my old-world standards—but it was stable.
I compensated quality for quantity.
The rows of panels fed into a bunch of battery banks; regulated output, clean enough for sensitive electronics if you knew what you were doing.
I did.
Connections clicked into place one after another.
Efficient, deliberate, no wasted movement.
Behind me, Maggie leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching.
"How did you learn all this?" she asked.
"Necessity and good memory."
"Mm-hm."
I crouched near the inverter, double-checking the load distribution.
Last thing I needed was a surge frying everything the second we powered up.
Satisfied, I stood and wiped my hands on a rag.
"Alright," I muttered. "Let's see."
I flipped the switch.
A low hum filled the room, then—the screen flickered on.
Stabilized light filled the space.
For a second, it felt like something from before.
Something we dragged back from the grave and forced to work for us.
I watched it for a moment—not the screen, but the idea behind it.
Training.
Knowledge.
A way to turn survivors into something more.
Maggie stepped up beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her breath.
"Guess we're running a school now," she said.
I exhaled quietly. "Something like that."
Her head tilted slightly as she looked at the screen, then back at me. "And tonight?"
I glanced down at her. "…Movie night."
That earned me a grin.
(To be continued...)