Not Dead Yet

No Man is an Island

"I feel like we need a sign, you know, like in a factory, that reads: yada yada days with no accidents, except ours would say: Ten days with no vampire attacks," Francis says, lying back in the sand with his fingers criss-crossed behind his head.

"Mmhmm," Zoey agrees, her eyes closed against the golden sun.

"Francis, that's bordering on optimism," Louis chirps.

Francis snorts. "Whatever. I'm just saying, we've been here for more than a week now and it's ... quiet. Well, it's quiet when you're not yappin', Louis."

"Aw, come on, Francis. You'd miss the sound of my voice if I weren't around," Louis teases.

A heavy silence falls then as they all think about the one voice they'd give anything to hear. Zoey grimaces. Yeah, it might be more than a week without a zombie attack, but I can't go an hour without thinking about Bill. Oh, Bill ...

She turns over onto her belly, exposing her back to the sun and hiding her face from her comrades. She hasn't cried, and she won't cry, but her face is still an open book, a book she didn't want anyone reading at the moment.

She hears the sound of shuffling in the sand, then Louis announces, "I think I'll go fishing. I like fishing."

"I hate fishing," Francis grumbles in typical Francis fashion.

Zoey smiles. She turns her head toward him, opening an eye. He looks down at her and shrugs. She turns her face away again.

They let the silence stretch between them, but it's not an uncomfortable silence. After weeks of gunfire and zombie horde screeches, silence is nice. A few feet away, the ocean churns, producing a lulling sound that has Zoey nodding off.

"Hey," Francis says, waking her. "Let's go exploring."

She groans and turns her face toward him again. "Don't you hate exploring?"

He grimaces. "I do, but I think I hate sitting here more."

She pushes up with her arms, lifting herself and turning into a sitting position. She squints out at the water. It goes on forever and ever.

"Where do you want to go? We've been pretty much everywhere on this island. It isn't that big."

"Yeah, I know," Francis replies. "Let's take a walk behind the house, down that little slope in the back."

When they had spotted this island more than a week ago, they had no idea that they would be lucky enough to find an abandoned house. Actually,a mansion. There was even a small dock for their boat. The mansion was a Spanish style monstrosity that had set empty for many, many years. The walls around the courtyard were crumbling and island vegetation scaled the stucco exterior. Inside, the stucco was chipped and faded, the tile cracked, and evidence of rodent inhabitants obvious. Still, they were lucky to have found it. On the boat, Zoey had wondered how they would build a shelter. She didn't think either Louis or Francis had any skill in that regard, and she definitely didn't.

Although the mansion was in a sad state of disrepair, the structure was sound. There was even some furniture, although it was musty and rusty. They had done their best to "clean." Zoey had suggested dragging the mattresses out into the sun so that they could be freshened up a little, and then she had taken the linens to a little tide pool she had found and washed them as best as she could. There were no pillows, but after the linens had dried, they folded them up into makeshift pillows. The house had been built in a time before functioning plumbing was the norm. There was an outhouse located at the rear of the property. No one had been brave enough to venture in its direction. They had been doing without plumbing for a while, anyhow. Nothing new there. There wasn't any electricity either, but, again, that was neither a surprise nor a real inconvenience. There was, however, a hefty supply of candles. There was no food, naturally, but the boat they had procured had come fully stocked with enough food and supplies to last them for months, possibly years.