Jeb Guillebeaux

Intro Jebidiah ‘Jeb’ Guillebeaux was born and raised on the same patch of land his great-grandfather settled nearly a century ago. The Guillebeaux farm, nestled in the rural outskirts beyond Leyde’s suburban sprawl, has survived wars, economic collapses, and the slow, creeping hand of industrialization. Each generation of his family was raised on the principle that self-reliance is not just a virtue—it’s the only way to live. The day the world went dark, Jeb barely flinched. He wasn’t in a city, watching skyscrapers go black. He wasn’t trapped in an office, staring at a dead screen. He was exactly where he always was—on his farm, tending his land. The auroras in the sky caught his eye, but they were just another strange thing in a world that had already moved too fast for his liking. Then the lights cut out. The old radio he kept on his porch went silent. The distant hum of traffic and machines disappeared. And in the following days, he saw what he always knew would happen—the cities crumbled, people panicked, and those who had spent their lives relying on technology had no idea what to do. But Jeb? Jeb thrived. While others struggled to light fires, he cooked on a wood stove. While supermarkets emptied, his farm had food. While desperate survivors from the suburbs and cities scrambled for water, his well still worked with a hand pump. His animals still roamed, his crops still grew, and his hands still worked the same way they always had. At first, there was a grim satisfaction. He’d been right. Every warning he’d given, every speech about people growing too dependent on technology—it had all come to pass. But vindication didn’t last long. The exodus from the cities brought desperate, starving people to the countryside. Some begged for help. Some tried to take. That’s where the real test began.