For a while, Louis was convinced that what he'd missed most during their journey was the quiet. All he could remember from the frantic parts of their campaign were blood, light, and noise. During his increasingly frequent bouts of retrospection, it all swirled together in his head. Everything would coalesce into a twisted, nonlinear montage of sound and fire. In the sour lucidity of the long boat ride, he realized it wasn't the quiet he missed, it was just feeling that he didn't have to keep holding his breath constantly. That any measure of safety wouldn't be thrown out the window when they left the saferoom within the next few hours. Nothing had ever felt "over" before, just "delayed."

When he tried to recall specific memories, he would have to pause and stave off the gut-wrenching sensation of regret whenever one of them involved Bill. The times spent joking with Francis and Zoey didn't bring him the same warm solace that they used to upon reminiscence. Those two were sleeping several feet behind him; Bill was dead several miles behind him. It was obvious he wouldn't be able to sate his mind with pleasant memories like he always did during watch duty, so he just watched the ocean water and listened to the boat slap against it. His leg flared with occasional dull pain.

Only a few minutes passed before Louis heard shuffling behind him and shifted his gaze to see which of the two it was.

Francis trudged sluggishly over to Louis's side and took a seat.

Louis was relieved to have some company, but didn't admit as much. "What is it? Your shift isn't for another..." He glanced at his watch. Couldn't believe the thing still worked, come to think of it. "...hour and a half."

"Yep."

Good enough for Louis, but apparently not for his companion, who spoke up after a short silence. "...Jesus, man, you're lookin' way too bummed. We finally made it out. It's over. Pick yourself up a bit."

Louis replied with an incredulous stare. "Bill's dead, Francis."

Francis's smile faded, and he turned to watch the water himself.

"Yeah." He paused. "But this ain't like you, dude. Just... be happy and shit. Like you always are. We effin' made it."

Louis just stared at him again. He couldn't think of a single other person who would care about maintaining the status quo at a time like this. Then again, he didn't know anyone else besides Francis and Zoey anymore. Either way, it was obvious Francis was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince Louis.

"It just doesn't feel like we won anything. And it should, y'know?" Francis scowled. "Old bastard. We should be happy about makin' it out."

They both turned toward the ocean again. Louis was next to speak up.

"Give it time, I guess." He slapped a hand on Francis's shoulder. "It can't keep hurting forever."

"It just feels like.. I dunno, damn it. Like there's somethin' left we gotta solve. Like there's somethin' we gotta do because he's gone. It ain't fair, and that.. that's gotta be fixed somehow."

Louis thought for a moment. "There's no justice, you mean. No one we can hold a grudge or plan revenge against."

"..Maybe. Maybe that's it, yeah. Like the whole thing's just left up in the air. And there's nothin' anyone can do about it."

"That's just the way it's gonna be, I guess."

Louis heard seagulls. He looked to his right, where dawn was beginning to break, then glanced at his rifle, and backwards at a sleeping Zoey.

"..You know something, Francis?"

"Yeah?"

"May not feel like a victory for us," Louis said, turning from Zoey back towards Francis. "But I'm sure it did for him."

Francis nodded after a few seconds. "I think that's good enough for me."

The two survivors watched the sun rise in silence.