The sound of shattering glass woke me instantly. Reflexes born on that hellish island had me trying to roll off the opposite side of the bed for cover, but my body was sluggish in its recovering state. Before I could so much as turn on my side, a heavy weight on my stomach pinned me down.

"YOU!" the man above me raged.

I blocked his wild roundhouse and jerked myself up, using a hard grip on his wrist and an elbow behind his arm to wrestle him facedown onto the bed. His muffled shouting did nothing to help me make sense of the situation, but one look at his outfit filled me with familiar dread.

"You killed him! You killed them! All of them!" He had turned his head and was glaring at me around the hammerlock I had on his arm.

Ignoring his words for the moment, I ran a professional eye over the tattered rags he was wearing, not seeing a gun. He must have gotten off the island and come straight for me, too blinded by rage to even think of replacing the weapons his rescuers had undoubtedly taken from him.

"We thought you was one of them zombie guards, the way you never died. My brothers and I used to-my brothers-YOU KILLED THEM."

I struggled to keep him pinned as he worked himself into a frenzy, but the bed wasn't a very helpful surface to smash his face against, and he was ignoring any pain in his shoulder. Roaring incoherently, he eventually twisted himself into a better position and threw me off. I coughed as I hit the headboard, something cracking loudly. I hoped it was the headboard.

He reached for me, grabbing my already-bruised neck and attempting to choke me. Unfortunately for him, this left his head unprotected. With a strangled grunt I brought my arms up, open palms slamming into his ears. He released me instantly, staggering backward off the bed, bringing his hands to his ears and moaning ever more pitifully as he realized he couldn't hear himself.

"SAM!" I yelled without taking my eyes off him. If one survivor had made his way here with a grudge, there might be others-

She burst through the door as if on cue, apparently having heard the commotion. Without missing a beat, she ran up to the man and swung her ever-present camera in a two-handed grip against the back of his head. He slammed into the hardwood floor, out cold.

"Are you okay?" she asked me.

"Fine. Yourself?"

"Fine-...ohhh, my camera." She cradled it gently in her palms, turning it on and running through its various functions to see if it had been harmed. Her brow was smooth; it must be fine.

Slowly my muscles unclenched, and as the adrenaline faded, every one of my injuries blazed to life.

I must have made some sound, because Sam turned to me immediately, and in one swift motion set the camera aside and reached out. I blinked as she steadied me, discovering that I had been listing to the side.

"We should probably...remove him," I said with some difficulty. I was having a hard time focusing on anything other than not falling over where I sat.

"We should not do anything," Sam retorted with no bite. She let go of me gingerly, hands still out as if to catch me. I must look as bad as I felt.

Eying me with a look that said Stay put, she unplugged a few cords from the desk and tied the unconscious man's hands and feet. The knots were simple, but any second he spent untying them was one more second we had, so I approved.

"I'll go call the police and a doct-" Sam cut herself off as she turned around, catching sight of me. "You're smiling," she said, surprised. "I thought you'd be freaking out and having flashbacks."

"There is something delightfully mundane about tying up a lunatic with a power cord. Please marry me."

She laughed.