"We go at dark."

Strand gives the order. The rest of us are silent, nodding in agreement. We're still in shock.

"Good," he replies, turning back to his room. I'm sitting on the couch, in the middle of Alycia and Ophelia. I still don't know what to say.

Travis is staring out to the rocks and water out the living room slider door. Liza… well, Liza's body, is still outside. She's been covered in a white sheet, but the thought of her—of her body still lingering—isn't a comfort.

"Sh-she was bit," Travis stuttered. "She told me to. She told me to…"

If I strain my neck far enough, I can see Chris's hunched form beside her, shoulders still wracking with heavy sobs.

My eyes keep to my wringing hands on my knees. "What do we do?"

Madison answers, voice so soft and kind. "What do you mean, Tina?"

"Where do we go from here?" I muster the energy to look up, gaze peering through the scattering of our group. "What's the plan? Do we even have a plan? How do we—what are we going to do now?"

"Well," She starts. "We're going to—"

"What we're going to do is stay alive," Strand returns to the living room, two suitcases in tow. "We go to my ship as soon as the sun goes down. If anyone is watching Los Angeles, we'll be better hidden."

"Is there?" Daniel looks to Strand warily. He's been beside Ophelia the entire time, a hand on her shoulder and the other holding the backpack of medicine Liza and I used to treat her.

"This is the American government we're talking about. Of course there's surveillance."

"Then we prepare now." Daniel sets the medicine bag beside Ophelia on the couch. Liza was supposed to teach me everything. All those future lessons now gone to waste.

God, without her we have no healer. What are we going to do if one of us—

"Descansa mientras hago las maletas, niña." Daniel tells Ophelia.

I blink. I really need to learn Spanish.

"Está bien, papá." She replies. He plants a kiss on her cheek before trekking to the kitchen and grabbing a bag to pack.

The sky is a mix of oranges and reds when we leave. Helicopters are flying above when we shove Strand's food, water, and as many medical supplies and extra items we can into our bags. We hear the beat of propellers, dozens of them in flight while we rummage around Strand's house. What we don't know is what they're carrying.

CH-BOOM.

The military-grade choppers drop dozens upon dozens of bombs and missiles, raining in the distance. They're taking us out methodically. Starting as inland as possible, then spreading out as they reach the water.

"Are they getting closer?" Alycia stares to the main land.

I shrug a heavy duffel on, grunting. "Think so, babes. C'mon. No dilly-dallying."

"Girls, get to the boat," Travis juts his chin to the open door. We both nod and trek through the doorway and to the beach.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it Strand," Nick jerks a nod. He hops into the tiny raft, grabbing the navigation piece and demonstrating.

Alycia and I throw our bags into the boat, and Alycia raises an eyebrow. "You're driving?"

"Consider this boating 101. I'm good to drive it."

CH-BOOM!

The horizon is lit up in red, embers glowing and ashes filtering in the dusk of night. It's horrifying. Definitely getting closer.

"First group, hop in." Strand announces. "We'll come back in five for the rest."

"C'mon," Alycia grabs my hand and we step onto the rickety raft. We plop beside Strand, and Ophelia and Daniel take the other seats beside Nick. Next ride will have Madison, Travis, Chris, Liza's body, and the heavy cargo.

"Let up on the engine." Strand directs Nick. "There we go, just let us glide in."

The rest of us are silent, listening to the directions. Those, and the crackling of bombs and the fires sweltering in its wake.

Nighttime normally calms me; I love looking at the stars and moon in the dark. Tonight, I'm panicked. It's angry and red and aflame. It's wrong.

Strand and Nick temporarily tether the small raft to the Abigail, and we hop off quickly. I'm floored by how large the boat is. Well, not, "boat." It's a yacht. Still, though, this is my first time being on one so large and with developed technology. The only boat I've been on was when my family went on vacation in fifth grade and my father took me fishing. This bloody yacht could hold a good thousand of those.

"Throw the bags inside," Strand instructs. Alycia and I nod and make quick work of trekking them into a large room that I assume constitutes as the main living area. A large, elegantly set dinner table is further in the dark of the ship, along with two sets of stairs; one large set leads deeper down into the whole ship, and a curved set leads upwards. The closest thing to me is a set of brown couches and a glass table, illuminated in red through the vast set of windows surrounding the whole area.

CH-BOOM!

"Here," I announce and throw a couple suitcases onto the chair near the door. Ophelia and Daniel go to the couch opposite me as Alycia sets another bunch of bags down beside the chair. I grab the last one and heave it on the ground beside Ophelia before hearing the sound of quick footsteps.

Strand struts past us and up the winding stairs. My eyes trail outside and watch Nick hop back onto the raft by himself, pulling the tether and twisting the device to head ashore alone.

My hand grabs Alycia's shoulder, concerned. "Wasn't Strand supposed to go with him?"

"Plans change." She shrugs, but her eyes follow the raft until it's far out of sight like mine.

My stomach churns with each passing moment. I knew it would take a bit, but should it really be this long? I trek to the open door and stare out, trying to catch any movement that's not a fire or another bomb close by.

"Where are they?" I question. Alycia comes beside me and shrugs her shoulders again, eyes staring back to shore in worry.

Daniel pulls up behind us with his shotgun in hand and Ophelia by his side. I don't see any dead, but you never know. At least he's prepared.

I protest at Ophelia's presence. "No, you need to rest."

"It's just a flesh wound. I'm not useless. I can still help."

Daniel's accent is heavy as he adds, "We all contribute to our survival. She knows her own strength."

Fine, I mentally reply. If it gets worse, it's her own bloody fault.

Strand pulls up above us, standing tall on the rails that surround the captain's area. He wrings his fingers as he rests his forearms against the railing, waiting as uneasily as the rest of us.

"There," Alycia points to the angry sloshing water, the raft speeding along with our friends and supplies.

The breath I'm holding escapes. "Finally."

The four of us trek to the floating wooden platform of the boat where the raft lightly bumps, and we all grab at it to steady the jolts. Madison holds out her hand, which Alycia grabs and helps her out of the rocking boat.

"Well done, Nick." I faintly hear Strand say before he saunters back into the captain's quarters.

Once the last piece of equipment is pulled on board, Nick manages to tether the raft to the side of the floating piece of wood. Another angry flash of white light floods my vision, and I turn to look back at L.A.

More bombs. More missiles. Each lighting up the horizon like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Huge blasts, small blasts, fires bright on the treetops. The whole of what used to be home, gone.

CH-CH-BOOM!

I'm not the only one watching. We all stop our ministrations and watch in terror as our home is engulfed in flames and explosions. There's so much smoke billowing to the sky.

Silently my hand reaches for Alycia's. She grasps it, squeezing tightly.

BOOM! BOOM! CHHH-BOOM!

I will never forget this moment. The hundreds of bombs singing, the crackle of fire, the smoke hiding the stars. Pain traps my heart in a vice-like grip.

The old world is gone. Burnt to the ground. All we have now are monsters and a boat.

"Down here are the sleeping quarters." Strand instructs. He flips the switch in the small hallway, lighting our view in a soft hue of white. "There are more, but I'm assuming you all want to hunker down close to each other tonight."

Yes, definitely.

"Fight amongst yourselves." He gestures to the hallway. "There's plenty of space. Big rooms, bunk beds. Try to get a good night's sleep. Washrooms are further down to the left."

"Thank you." Madison replies, bag in hand. Strand bids us good night and takes his leave. He gets to sleep a good three levels above us. Perks of being a captain.

Softly, Madison pads over to the first door closest to us and gently swings it open. Bunk beds. There are four small twin beds total; two on the left and right of the cramped space. One small dresser on the right, directly next to the door and pointing to the beds. In between the bunk beds is a very small nightstand with a single lamp and digital clock on top. There aren't any windows in the small area, so the only light glowing is from the lamp and the red numbers on the clock.

"Girls, you wanna take this one?" Madison looks to me and Alycia as she jerks her head to the room. I look to Alycia, shrug, and nod in response. Alycia takes the first step in and slings a backpack down on the bottom left bed. I toss mine on the right.

"This one has two." Nick calls from further down the hall. It's right next to ours, but a good two yards of space in between. "Chris, you wanna share?"

Chris—who's been completely silent since nightfall—glassily looks up. His eyes, originally trained on the lifeless form of Liza in a white sheet held in Travis' arms, go to the door handle in Nick's hands.

"I don't… I don't wanna leave her," is his response. My heart breaks. He hasn't left her side all day.

"Hey, Chris." Travis says softly. "I'll put her in the room next door. She would want you to get some sleep after everything, okay? For her."

The death glare in Chris's eyes is very potent, but he nods. He plants a chaste kiss onto Liza's cold forehead through the sheet before trailing in front of Nick and entering the open room. Nick stares at the heavy-set action, his eyes glued to Chris's back until the kid sets himself down on a bed.

"Guess that's my cue." Nick pulls back to the rest of us. "Night, everyone."

He closes the door behind him as Travis takes Liza's body to the room over, fulfilling his promise. Then he and Madison take the room opposite the boys, on the left of the hallway. Ophelia decides to bunker down alone across from mine and Alycia's. Daniel—though obviously wanting to stay by Ophelia's side—opts to take the bedroom farthest away from all of us on the left.

I flop ungracefully on my stomach onto the bottom bunk on the right, the exhaustion of the past few days catching up. It's been so long since I've slept. Dark claws of unconsciousness pull at my eyelids, my body trying so hard to fall into a deep sleep.

And I would; I will, just after I get more Aloe on my shoulders and face. Better to let it soak in overnight.

"Aloe, please." I mumble quietly and twist my head to Alycia's side, ignoring my body's cries for unconsciousness. I hold a hand out over the edge of the bed. The zipper of the backpack opens and I feel the weight of the bottle in my hand. "Thanks, babes."

Alycia gives a quiet hum in response.

I push on my arms, forcing myself to sit up on cris-crossed legs as I pop the cap of the bottle and squirt some liquid onto my fingers. I furiously lather the liquid between my hands before delicately applying it to my cheeks, nose, and forehead. The cool feel relieves my hot skin.

I adjust the shirt on my shoulders by stretching the collar out to one side, rubbing some Aloe in, and doing the same to the other side. I try to reach the back of my neck, but to little avail. I reach a small portion and do what I can.

"Need some help?" Alycia asks. It's more a mumble than anything.

I nod, only feeling a little guilty for keeping her awake. "Would you mind?"

"'Course not." In two short strides she makes her way to my bed and situates herself behind me. "Shirt off."

I oblige, swinging my shirt over my head and down my arms with little thought. I shimmy my bra straps down too. More Aloe on the surface area, the better.

"Bottle."

I bring it over my shoulder so she can grab it. A quick thanks is given before she squirts the clear liquid on her hands and begins rubbing softly into my shoulder blades.

"Ah," I sigh and close my eyes at the feeling. I can feel her smile at my back as she rubs soothing circles, kneading softly. The knots and stress from the past few days dissipates with each rotation of her wrists. I slouch, giving in to the relaxation.

"You're overworked, dawling." Alycia says in an exaggerated accent. "Too much stress. You must relax, mon amour." She applies a bit more Aloe to her hands and rubs from my shoulders down my burnt biceps with ease.

Switching back to her normal voice, she asks, "When was the last time you slept?"

I rack my brain to remember. Scrunching up my nose, I hum, "Two days, maybe? Last time I was at your house."

A moment of silence rings through the air as we both realize—yesterday was the last time we would ever be in the Clarke residence. Now we're basically bloody pirates. Who knows how long we'll be here? How long will we be without a home?

Will we ever have a home again?

The thought is still prominent as I feel the loss of Alycia's hands from my hot skin. "Speaking of," Alycia starts. She wipes the remaining Aloe from her hands onto the front of her jeans before bending down to rummage through the backpack on her bed. "We grabbed your book for ya. Before leaving to get you and Nick. Still can't believe you managed that, by the way."

"I'm a persuasive woman, what can I say?"

The EMT textbook cover shines proudly through the soft lamplight. I throw my shirt back on with a grin as she places the book on my pillow. "Thanks, babes."

"Thought you'd like it," she flops on her bed. "Happy early birthday, I guess."

I frown. "Wait, what?"

As she stretches comfortably in her sheets, she looks over to me and points to the book with her index finger. "You never read the inscription?"

With a rush of vigor I pry open the cover and flatten out the front page. Sure enough, there are black markings that resemble my mother's cursive.

"Dear Smurfette,

Happy 19th birthday! I know this isn't exactly a luxurious car or your own apartment, but trust us, this is expensive enough!

We know that you're still figuring out your life YOUR way. Know that we will always support you, no matter where you go. Just to give you options, we thought maybe this branch of medicine is calling your heart.

We still remember you talking about career day freshman year, when the EMT and 911 dispatcher came in to talk to all of you. You thought it was the best thing in the world, so maybe this is your calling!

If not, please disregard this book, white-out this note, and sell on eBay.

Love you, Cristina! Mum and Dad"

My fingers run over the words gently as I take in the information. This was mine. This was always mine. They bought it for me.

"I never noticed the inscription…" I say softly, voice barely audible. My heart catches in my throat. "I thought this was my mum's the whole time."

Another example as to how oblivious Cristina Waters can be. This time, I'm glad. It's refreshing. A new memory. Something physical to keep them alive.

A sharp knock from the door pulls me out of my thoughts. My hand rubs furiously at my face, any escaping tears cleaned and invisible.

"Come in," Alycia calls.

I'm expecting Madison; maybe checking the rooms, making rounds before allowing herself to visit the wonderful land of dreams.

Instead, it's Nick. He saunters in the room quickly, probably looking forward to losing consciousness as much as I am.

"Just need my cigarettes." He explains.

I pull my gaze from him as I set my book onto the nightstand. My figure shimmies as I pull the blankets from underneath me and begin to tuck myself in. Silk sheets, do I think? I wouldn't be surprised if Strand spent that kind of money.

Alycia tosses him the backpack and he searches a few of the smaller pouches before unzipping the bigger slit, rummaging around, and finding a pack with his lighter. I hear him set the backpack on the ground beside Alycia and his steps trail away to the door.

"Night, 'Lycia." He says.

"Night," she hums softly. Then she waits a beat after he closes the door before turning to me. "He didn't say good night to you."

"It's fine," I say with a half-hearted shrug. "Probably just tired, or forgot."

"Oh, shit," she slaps her hand on her forehead softly. "I forgot; he wanted me to tell you. It's officially day two."

Curious, I peak my head over to the digital clock on the nightstand. She's right—the bright red numbers read 1:52 AM. Of course he did.

I hum in acknowledgment, but say no more.

Alycia fully twists herself on her bed so she can see my form. I stare up at the bunk's frame absentmindedly, sleep seemingly catching up as my eyelids desperately flutter.

"What's it mean?" Alycia asks.

"Nothing." I say, then correct myself, because she's Alycia and I love her and she deserves to know at least a fraction of the truth. "Well, nothing I want to explain, really."

I can feel her eyes boring into my skin, so I turn my body to face her. Her eyes squint at me, trying to figure out the predicament I'm in.

"Can I help you?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Is there something going on between the two of you?" Alycia asks in trepidation.

This question, I find the truthful answer in seconds. I twist back in bed, staring up at the bunk.

"Maybe."

BING!

"Hello! This is the voicemail of Laura Allen-Waters. I can't come to the phone right now, so please leave a message and I'll get back to you as fast as I can.

If this is the Good Samaritan Hospital and there is an emergency, please call the hospital's phone number and my extension is .855.

Thank you so much!"

BEEP.

I listen to the robotic voice tell me to leave my message after the tone. Smiling at my mothers' voice, I hear the click and start my message slowly.

"Hi… Hi mum. It's Tina. Smurfette. Kiddo. Whatever the hell you'd call me."

I look out the wide window of this room. It's an empty one, and the beds in here are much larger in comparison to mine and Alycia's. I lounge on one, my legs cris-crossed underneath me as I look up at the sky outside from a circular window. Everyone is already upstairs, most likely starting lunch without me. But I needed a moment to myself. My cell phone, once kept in Alycia's backpack, rests comfortably in my hand and held against my ear.

"I, um…" Letting out a sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. "I probably shouldn't be leaving you a voicemail. You're at the other end of the world, probably dead with dad. But it's been a few rough days. I really needed to hear your voice."

"In the span of three days, I was knocked unconscious, thrown in a cage with Nick, escaped said cage with Nick and an absolute stranger, and now I'm on a boat that said stranger owns." I begin to laugh into the phone. "I'm sorry, I just—I've never said that out loud before. It sounds like a bad action movie. Damn romance subplot and all."

I mumble the last part before pushing my back up against the wall and throwing an arm around my bent knees in front of me. "I, uh, I killed someone yesterday, too. Granted he was infected and dead, still… He was alive, once. He had a family, a job, maybe kids. He could've been a wonderful person. I don't know, but I killed him. Would you and dad be upset with me? If you two are alive, would you understand that I had to do it? Would you be able to?"

Unconsciously, I rub at my face. "Doesn't matter, I guess. You and dad are probably dead. I'll never know. Neither will you. Maybe it's best you don't know I'm capable of killing someone."

I wait a beat in the silence before changing the subject. "I found the EMT book, by the way. Last time I visited our apartment, I may have snooped in your room. Please don't be mad. But I've been reading it, taking notes, putting the info to work. My friend, Ophelia—who, by the way, was also a complete stranger until two weeks ago—got shot. Yeah, shot. The world has really turned upside down, hasn't it? Anyway, she was shot, and I got to help Liza. She's—was, a nurse. Very smart. She tried to teach me first-hand how to help with that. She's dead now. Died yesterday."

God, I'm rambling now. Rambling to dead parents.

"She was scratched by one of the infected. She didn't want to turn. Travis had to put her down. Thing is, she's Chris' mum. He's not taking it well. I want to help him. I mean, my parents are probably dead, too. I should know how it feels to lose someone you love. But here I am, babbling into this receiver like you'll hear it and come back. I'll never know. He does. I just… I'll guess, and I truly think you're gone, but there's always this whisper in the back of my mind. This thought that says, 'maybe they'll hear this. Maybe they're still alive, and they'll go through hell to make it back'—"

BEEP!

"Message saved."

Ah, bollocks. That was longer than expected.

"If you would like to listen to this message, press one. If you would to send this message, press two. If you would like to delete this message and record another, press three. If you would like to—"

To stop the robot's incessant yapping, I press two.

"Message sent."

And the line goes dead.

Dejectedly, I toss the phone onto the bed, where it bounces twice and stills on the mattress. My forehead goes to rest on my knees, and I sigh heavily.

"If you guys are out there," I speak to the open room. "I hope you're better off than we are."

The water is beautiful. A light glimmer of sun ryas beat atop the waves, letting me see further into the depths. The ever-growing mist of bubbles simmers at the surface where the Abigail cuts through.

"Hey!"

Alycia jogs to the railing of the yacht, where I comfortably rest my arms. My hair—now completely void of red and orange from my recent shower and turned to blonde—whips around my head from the wind. It's annoying, but delightfully refreshing all the same.

"Hello, love." I grin through messy locks. There's pain in it, but some weight has been lifted off my chest. The phone call helped.

"You missed Strand's dramatic proclamation." Her arms rest beside mine on the railing as she bumps her hip against me. "Says we could go anywhere we want."

"Anywhere, huh?" I muse. "Think we could make it to Framlingham?" My eyes twinkle as I look to her. "I could show you guys my old house."

Maybe mum and dad made it back there. And we'd find them, and they'd be okay, and we'll all live through the rest of this until the world turns back to normal.

Stop. Stop thinking that. You're alive; that's all the joy you get.

"That'd be nice." Alycia comments. "Have any secrets locked away there?"

"Yes, all my dark magic is hidden beneath the floorboards of my basement. Duh."

The sarcasm earns a chuckle. "Please don't curse me if we ever visit."

"But that takes the fun out of it!"

"Fun out of what?" Another voice joins us, the sound of heavy footsteps coming closer. Ophelia meanders over, a welcoming smile on her features.

"Tina's going to curse me with her secret dark magic." Alycia explains cheekily.

"It would be fun." I say. "Congrats, you unlocked the evil backstory of Tina Waters. Now I have to turn you into a frog."

Ophelia raises an eyebrow, perplexed, before adding in amusement, "I'd rather you not, thanks."

"Oh," I huff playfully, "Neither of you are fun. Let a girl live a little, won't ya?"

"Poor, poor Tina." Alycia claps a hand at my shoulder. "I allow you to curse me once. Just once, okay?"

"Thank you." I praise graciously, grinning to her. Ophelia lets her weight fall behind her, rolling on the bottom of her heels as her back meets the pristine white wall of the Abigail. I point to her shoulder. "How're you feeling?"

"Oh, fine." She waves a hand dismissively. "I cleaned it earlier. It's feeling a bit better now. I think the antibiotics are kicking in."

"That's good to hear." Alycia says. "We need all of us at 100%. Who knows what we'll find out there."

The statement is met with silence. It's true; that makes all of this worse.

As the Abigail changes direction softly to the left, we get a little splash of salty water to our forms. The water is colder than expected, and it seems to wake us up from our stump.

"Um," Ophelia recharges her thoughts. "Lunch is ready. Papa caught some fish earlier."

"Awesome." Alycia answers. "Let's go eat. I'm starving."

"Hello! This is the voicemail of Laura Allen-Waters. I can't come to the phone right now, so please leave a message and I'll get back to you as fast as I can."

I listen to her voicemail again as Alycia's in the shower. I'm already dressed and Aloe-d for bed, a loose t-shirt hanging from my frame. I just wanted to hear her voice again.

"At the tone, please record your message. When you are finished recording, you may hang up, or press one for more options."

BEEP!

"Hi mum. It's Tina again." I can't help but smile into the receiver. "Today was, well, it was good. Better than yesterday. Though it's not hard to be better than yesterday."

"The Abigail is nice. That's the ship's name. Strand's boat. He's the one that saved me and Nick yesterday. The Abigail—well, it's more than a ship; it's a YACHT! It's huge and fast; honestly, I can barely feel it moving. Remember when dad and I went fishing when I was a kid? And we went on a rickety little boat, and I got sick on it? Not now. I think I've finally grown sea legs."

No movement comes from the door, so I allow myself another few seconds to talk into the phone. "You'd probably like it on here. You'd feel rich. It's large and vast, and you can easily get lost in here. I may have, just a few times. I'm getting a hang of the layout. First full day on the Abigail was a success."

"In the next few days, though," my voice grows somber, "We're trying to find deep enough levels to drop Liza's body into the water. We're not heading back to shore to bury her, and we're not keeping her body onboard. So, burial by sea she gets. I'm not sure how Chris is handling it. He's angry all the time, but he wasn't always a peach beforehand, either."

Footsteps sound outside the door, louder as they come closer.

"Sorry guys," I clutch the receiver close to my face as I whisper out a quick goodbye. "Alycia's coming. Love you, bye."

I press, "End call," just as Alycia twists the doorknob of our door. I throw the phone underneath my pillow and adjust it so the metal doesn't show.

The sheets of my bed flutter around my form as I slip underneath them and tuck them around me as Alycia enters the room, clad in only an oversized t-shirt and some shorts. Wet hair clings to her face, water droplets slowly seeping into the collar of the tee.

"Hey there beautiful." I hum.

"Hey, yourself." She responds, dipping into her bed quickly. "I can't wait to fuckin' sleep."

"Me too." I nod. Then I turn my head to look across the room at her. "We made it through our first day on a boat. How's that make you feel?"

"Just call me Captain Alycia." She pulls her gaze from mine to look at the bunk bed above her. "I say we're honorary pirates."

"We deserve it."

"Definitely." Her fingers grasp at the sheets as she pulls them up to her chin. "G'night, Tina."

"Night, 'Lycia."