Not Dead Yet

Doubts

The sun is shining. The birds are singing. Zoey walks along the beach, alone, as Louis and Francis fish farther down the shore. The idyllic scene should mean that the crew is happy, but happy they are not. Zoey twists her hands as her thoughts race. 

What is going on off island? Are there other survivors out there? Am I wrong for being here and not there?

She bites her lip as she ponders her situation. Over the past few weeks, guilt had started nibbling away at her fragile contentment. For a brief moment, she had lost herself in her newfound love with Francis. For a brief moment, nothing else mattered. She was able to forget that she had essentially turned her back on her fellow man and ran away, tail tucked between her legs. 

All that changed, and reality had crashed in, the night she saw the look in Francis's eyes. The happy glow that had been there was being darkened by uncertainty and remorse. And watching that light fade had brought about her own doubts and regrets. They hadn't spoken about it, but it was there, hanging between them like a dark, stormy cloud, full of violent potential. They still laughed and kissed and hugged, but there were moments when the silence would fall and gloom would enter their eyes. Lately, those moments were occurring more and more. 

Not only were Francis and Zoey beginning to feel the burden of their actions, but now Louis was showing signs of strain. Again, no one talked about it, but they saw it. Zoey would catch him looking out across the vast expanse of the ocean with the same look in his eyes that Francis had possessed. Sometimes she would catch him watching her and Francis with a different look, a sadder look. This made her think about how unfair it was that she and Francis had each other while Louis didn't have anyone for himself. How must he feel? It would suck to be a third wheel, to be ... alone. 

She heaves a sigh as she draws nearer to the guys. Francis looks up and waves, smiling at her. She smiles back, glad to be far enough away that he can't see it doesn't reach her eyes. She hugs herself and moves closer.

"Any luck?" she inquires.

"Luck is my middle name," Louis says, showing her a small pile of fish at his feet.

"Yeah. I'd say!"

He smiles brightly at her. "I think this should do it for now. It's pointless to catch more since we can't really store them."

"Yeah."

He shrugs. "Still, it's nice to know I have a talent other than shooting zombies."

She laughs quietly. "This is true."

"I'm gonna take my haul back up to the mansion," he informs them, gathering up his supplies.

"I hate fishing," Francis grumbles as he, too, gathers up his supplies.

Zoey notices that there are no fish at his feet. She smiles. 

"I take it you weren't as lucky as Louis."

He leers playfully at her. "Well, now, I don't know about that. I mean, I got you and he's got fish. I'd say I'm luckier."

She smiles at him, but looks at Louis warily. He acts as though he didn't hear Francis, but she wonders.

"You need any help, Louis?" she asks.

"Nah, Zoey. Thanks for asking, though. I'll have supper ready for us soon. Hope you don't mind fish ... again."

She shakes her head. "Beggars can't be choosers, huh?"

"I guess so," Louis murmurs as he turns to walk away.

After he had gone a good distance away, Zoey touches Francis's hand. "Hey."

He looks down at her, expectantly. "Yeah?"