The setting sun shone over the treetops, bathing the scenery in bright orange, red, and yellow hues. Behind them, the contiguous United States of America lay, forever changed by the epidemic. Ships of all types and sizes littered the docks and shores. Some were on fire while others were keeling on their sides as water filled their interiors, slowly sinking into the depths of the ocean. Bodies of the recently slain zombies lay on the shores, rotting away while flies swarmed around them, eager to partake in the feast.
Seagulls cawed as they flew overhead, sometimes swooping in to rest on any surface they could use as a perch on the ship. Zoey's Hunting Rifle lay in her open palms, fully loaded and ready to be discharged at a moment's notice. An assault rifle slung over her shoulder and dual pistols stowed in their holsters, she observed the Florida Keys from her vantage point. Behind her, both Louis and Francis were asleep, each claiming their side of the vessel while still holding tight to their own weapons- a habit formed from a month of having to constantly be alert for any unexpected attack by those monstrous… things...
Earlier today, several of the infected had tried to swim towards the escaping boat, only to receive more than their daily dose of lead or drown from their own incompetence with the concept of water. Hunters had tried flying towards them but had gotten smashed by the butts of rifles and shotguns alike, landing in the water instead. Smokers had tried to pull the survivors from the boat and Tanks had tried to sink the vessel with flying chunks of concrete, but the infected quickly wore themselves out, and the Tanks ended up accidentally crushing the Smokers with the concrete.
Boomers had been spotted floating in the water due to their relatively hollow bodies and the trio had taken great pleasure in seeing who could pop the most of them. Francis soon started calling Zoey a cheater an hour into the game because she had the advantage of her hunting rifle, but she merely stuck her tongue out in reply to his accusation. Once, the biker had even tried to hijack the boat from Louis's control just to ram into the infected, but fell prey to another bout of seasickness from a wave suddenly slamming into the sailboat's side. The final score in the end, however, was Zoey with 14 Boomers, Louis following with 11, and Francis trailing far behind with 4.
"I hate this game" he had later declared after Zoey popped another Boomer in celebration, scowling at his shotgun's extremely limited reach.
She looked them over and gave their sleeping bodies a small, tight-lipped smile that quickly faded away. While it was true that Francis had gotten seasick within a few moments of the ship setting sail and wouldn't stop vomiting over the sailboat's sides until only bile was produced, he also complained of disorientation and loudly declared that he hated nausea. Louis had offered the biker a tip to suppress the "vomit signals" from getting to his brain by teaching him about the pressure points located on the wrists. Francis's face faded away from an awful greenish coloring to a slightly normal color after he had eagerly performed the maneuver- only a marginal improvement in comparison to his reaction to the prospect of Boomer hunting.
The winds had died down a while ago, meaning that the trio most likely would not reach the shore until morning. Zoey sighed and brushed her dirtied, oily hair. She had already been awake for at least 13 hours, but the adrenaline rush from assisting Ellis's team had provided an extra energy boost. She yawned, feeling the effects of the adrenaline wearing off. It would be so much easier if Bill-
'Don't think about him' she warned herself, choking back a sob at the mental sight of the grizzled Vietnam veteran.
It was true that although they had assisted a disorganized crew of individuals that were also trying to survive the Green Flu infection and find a safe haven and had enough time to swipe weapons and the remainder of the ammunition scattered throughout the port to last them well over a month, they were unable to give Bill a formal funeral and burial. Ergo, they took the veteran's seldom spoken "If I go down, don't let those bastards eat me" phrase to heart. However, each of the remaining three survivors had taken a small piece of their deceased leader to take with them before the procession was to take place.
Francis had taken Bill's remaining unused pack of cigarettes, muttering a deferential comment under his breath and gravely remarking how it took a lot of guts for the older man to sacrifice himself for their safety. Louis had the man's dog tags, and Zoey had taken up his favorite Assault Rifle as a show of respect and a sign that he would still be fighting alongside them even when he wasn't physically there anymore. She didn't have the heart to take along his beret; he looked… incomplete without it being part of his army ensemble.
Louis had suggested that Bill could be buried under the sea, but Francis argued that there might be vampires lurking underwater, and Zoey didn't want his body to be a meal for a passing infected if he was washed ashore. So, with the scrap wood gathered from smashed crates and supply boxes, they built Bill's funeral pyre, burnt his body, and scattered the ashes on the Atlantic Ocean as they crossed the body of water.
"You still thinking we should have gone with Ellis and the others?"
Startled, Zoey turned around to find Louis sitting in the same position that he had slept in, his head turned toward her. He too, seemed weary, and the lines on his face suggested rapid aging over the period they spent fighting together as a nearly unstoppable force. His favorite red tie, a reminder of how the world used to be before being consumed in chaos, was shredded in several places by an accidentally startled group of Witches.
"And be stuck with Colonel Sanders?" she replied, snorting derisively as Louis heartily chuckled. "I think not. Besides," she added after a moment of hesitation "We… look after our own" she finished lamely, eyes glazing over at the quote often recited by the late, great veteran.
Louis shrugged sadly and leaned on the ship's mast, careful not to put any weight on his injured leg. He had been noticing how Zoey had become more distant as of late, taking a commanding position within the group as the self appointed leader of the remainder of the ragtag band of survivors when needed, but otherwise retreated when there wasn't any situation at hand. He had expected Francis to seize the opportunity to take control but was surprised when Francis became apathetic after Bill's death, having been equally as affected by the turn of events.
Zoey quickly assumed charge after seeing that neither of the two was likely to give commands efficiently a few hours after the sacrificial act, filling in the hole left by Bill with her own brand of leadership. Louis silently praised her for her courage on her act of taking up the reins but also feared that guilt would continually eat away at her being.
"Like you said, he's not completely gone" He stated, successfully startling her and causing her to look at him with wide, emerald eyes.
"Right..." She murmured, almost to herself rather than to her companion, turning away with a frown.
"Zoey," Louis offered, inching closer to her. "I know what you're thinking."
"I could have saved him, Louis." She shot back bitterly, causing the African American male to recoil. "I had the last pipe bomb to distract the horde. …I… didn't even have a chance to... apologize to him or even thank him for what he's done for us."
"Look, I'm sure that he knew that you were conflicted and had already forgiven you."
"He's dead, Louis." she sighed, wistfully looking at the sun lowering over the horizon and disappearing behind the distant islands. "He's not here to tell us how he feels... or how he's-"
"Zoey, we might not know enough about Bill, but I would think he'd be mighty proud of us, especially with you. While you were asleep a few weeks ago, he told me that when he first met you, he thought that you wouldn't last an hour because of how reluctant you were to shoot those things..."
Zoey scowled, and the dark skinned male hastily amended his statement.
"I mean, he used to think you were inexperienced and brash… some of the traits that make a person less likely to survive a zombie apocalypse. Now look at you! You're a..."
"Funny sexy, brunette zombie killer that led three helpless men to safety?" Zoey offered, raising an eyebrow, a light grin tugging at her face.
"Yeah," Louis chuckled, causing Francis to snort loudly in his sleep and mutter something about how he hated penguins because they were actually evil creatures hiding behind a facade of cuteness.
The biker tossed and turned in his sleep, and Louis observed him quietly, noticing sweat beading on Francis's forehead.
"Francis… that idiot got badly hurt at the port when he charged into that horde to take them on singlehandedly... I think he now has a fever, so he won't be getting up soon to take watch"
Zoey glanced backwards to where the sweating vest-clad man lay.
"It's okay" the brunette finally said after letting a long pause hang in the air. "See if we have any medical supplies."
The sound of quiet ruffling ensued, and Zoey continued to stare at the rapidly darkening sky until Louis called.
"Pills here!" he announced, holding the bottle of Tylenol in the air triumphantly. "And they can help reduce fever!"
She nodded, and Louis went to Francis's side, nudging him awake with a shoe and offering him the bottle of pain pills. Francis groaned and chugged down several pills before collapsing back onto the deck and splitting the otherwise silent night with his thunderous snores soon afterwards.
"Go ahead and rest up; you don't look so well either"
"Thanks Zoe"
"Anytime" she replied, turning her sights back to the slowly approaching island.
The college girl was already beginning to regret her decision. Not an hour after Louis had went to sleep had passed before fatigue slowly crept upon her, making it difficult for her to even keep her eyes open. It was several hours since she had declined his offer, and the only sources of light were the full moon and the small stars shining from above in the otherwise pitch-black night.
She yawned, having a half mind to poke Louis until he woke up took watch, but her better half successfully killed the thought.
"Zoey" a familiar gruff voice called softly, and she regained her focus, shaking her head lightly.
"Whaa?" she asked as she was pulled from the tendril of sleep, looking around her, somewhat fully alert.
A group of seagulls had perched almost everywhere on the ship despite earlier attempts to get rid of them, but one seagull in particular stood out from the rest. It opened and closed its mouth repeatedly, flew once around her, and ruffled its feathers as if it were desperately trying to gain her attention, fixing its beady avian eyes upon her. Zoey gave it a questioning look, and the bird merely flapped its wings impatiently from its new perch, causing her to chuckle lightly.
It took to the air again, landing about a half of a foot away from her back, tapping its beak against the assault rifle. She shook her head and gave the bird a wry smile.
"Hey, Bill" she greeted softly, reaching towards the supply pack and tossing him a few bits of stale bread, one of the only pieces of food on the ship that did not require a can opener.
Bill pecked at the pieces of bread, softly squawking in distaste at the food's state but eating it nonetheless.
"Kid, I know you're still probably mad at me for sacrificing-"
"I was, Bill... I truly was... but not anymore. Please don't burden yourself with that kind of thoughts. I… don't know what came over me. Just… seeing Jeff, Annie, and the doctor die from deaths we could have prevented kind of reminded me of the world we lost, you know?"
She gave him a funny look when he started nervously fidgeting, pecking at a small twig on the deck until he had partly gotten it halfway in his mouth.
"It's so weird to see you like this, though." she remarked quickly, hoping to change the topic as she looked him once over with an eyebrow cocked in amusement.
Bill cawed sadly and ruffled his feathers once more, muffling the sounds of another person shifting his position.
"Weird to see me like this? I've been cursing at these horseshit goddamn birds for attracting hordes to us since... forever and I guess it's... 'weird' to be turned into one"
"Karma, huh?"
"Karma is for the Chargers" Bill grumbled, looking as cross as a seagull could possibly manage. "Christ, I need a cigarette." He murmured, dropping the twig unceremoniously onto the deck.
The college girl shrugged and brushed the remainder of the crumbs from the wooden floor.
"So… are we cool?" he awkwardly ventured.
Zoey laughed softly for the first time in what seemed like forever.
"Yeah, Bill… We're 'cool'" she replied, imitating his use of the word and causing him to shoot a glare in her direction. "I'm sorry," she chuckled, waving a hand in his direction. "I just couldn't resist."
Bill turned his head towards the sky and shook it twice as if he were rolling his eyes. He let a hush fall upon them before speaking once more.
"Hey... you wouldn't happen to have my beret, would you?" he asked curiously, waddling over to the supply bag and craning his neck to see as far into the bag as his body would allow.
"Sorry, Bill, we don't; we burned it along with your body. Francis has your cigarettes, Louis has your dog tags, and I have your assault rifle, though"
"Well, I guess that counts as something" he grunted, although he seemed to be more happier at the mention of some of his possessions being saved.
"Eh, I'd say that you're still traveling with us as long as we each have a piece of you to take along"
Morning's first rays started to struggle across the horizon, the sign of a new day. Bill looked on with feigned interest, more focused on the islands that were coming closer and closer as the winds started to pick up once again, filling the sails and propelling the sailboat forward.
"Get some sleep, kid" Bill ordered, turning his back to her and stretching his wings in preparation.
"I promise nothing" Zoey replied as he took flight and sailed through the morning air, watching him fly even as his form became a small black dot among the sun's light and eventually disappeared altogether.
The island was much larger than the three survivors had expected when Louis finally docked the ship- or, as Francis would have more accurately stated, attempting to drive the boat on land. It was midday now, and the weather could not be more perfect.
The warm sand brushed against their bare feet once they removed their footwear and socks as if it were welcoming the three to the island. Zoey sighed and lay back on the shore, giggling as the waves lapped at the soles of her feet. Louis loosened his tie, feeling the cool breeze as it blew past him. He felt his spirits rise to new heights since the infection spread throughout Pennsylvania as he surveyed the lush landscape. Francis coughed twice and glared at the island, kicking at the sand and loudly swearing when his toes accidentally had struck a rock.
"See, what did I tell you about these islands?" Francis shouted angrily, favoring the idea to blast the rock into pebbles with his prized auto-shotgun. "They're goddamn horrible and there's nothing good about them!"
"Remember when you hated the army?" Louis offered.
"Yeah, but that was a hell of a long time ago" Francis retorted, causing the dark skinned male to roll his eyes. "That was when they rescued us from that farmhouse, Louis. They saved our asses from the zombies and then they tried to make us into living experiments and kill us, remember?" he sarcastically declared.
Louis gave him a dirty look while the biker grinned, satisfied with his victory.
"Cheer up, boys!" Zoey called, retrieving a machete from the ship's cabin and extending the blade towards them before Louis could snap at Francis again. "We're having fish tonight!"
"I hate fish" Francis pronounced, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"Well hater, I guess you don't have to eat any then." Louis shot back. "You can eat the leftover stale bread we have instead."
"Oh no, I like eating them. That's one of the ways I'll let fish know how much I hate them!" Francis replied, taking the machete from Zoey's hand and stomping over to the edge of the shoreline. "And don't forget that I know we have canned food on board!" he loudly called, rolling up his jeans.
The two watched as the biker reluctantly waded into the water, machete poised above his head and an endless stream of foul words shooting form his mouth as the fishes swam away from him just as he was about to slice them into two.
"You okay, Zoe?" Louis asked once he was sure the other was out of earshot, considerably worried at the sight of seeing bags under her eyes. "Are you sure you don't have a fever or something?"
"Yeah, I'm fine" she replied. "Why do you ask?"
"Because... I saw you talking to a seagull?"
Zoey's face turned a shade of red lighter than that of her track suit. Her lips parted and she was about to stammer out a reply when Francis's shout and a ringing blast of a shotgun interrupted her.
"Hey, what the-! Goddamn bird!"
Looking up, she barely caught the form of the seagull as it swiftly soared through the air, Francis's fish in its beak. She swore she heard it snigger as it flew out of the range of the biker's shotgun and she smiled, pinching the bridge of her nose with two fingers and shaking her head from side to side.
Some things would never change.
AN: Seagulls can caw, cry, call, squawk, squeal, chirp and cluck (sometimes). Cawing is not just reserved for ravens and crows.
Zoey was hallucinating when she had a conversation with Bill. Don't be mistaken- there's little food for the survivors, and she hasn't slept in over 30 hours.
Pistols- M1911A1 Colt .45 (seen in game on the sides of the pistols)
Assault rifle- M16A2
…Yeah, I don't know why I put that there. I've identified the other Tier-2 weapons though out of boredom, though. Personally, I like the Benelli M4 Super 90 (aka Benelli M1014).