"This is bad. Like, terribly bad," Xenia muttered, pacing back and forth in front of their makeshift communal table like a CEO on the edge of an apocalypse—and technically, she was.
Her arms flailed like punctuation marks to every anxious sentence. "We saw something—no, someone—floating out at sea, and not the kind that sips piña coladas on a pool float."
Brie nodded, her arms crossed tightly. "Anna and I saw it too. With our very own naked, unfortunately functioning eyes."
"It looked like a corpse," Anna added grimly, massaging her temples as if trying to erase the image from her memory. "I mean, I thought zombies were for movies and low-budget streaming platforms, but this—this was real."
"The shore's compromised now," Xenia declared. "We don't know where it floated from. I don't care if it's a cursed yacht or the world's worst island cruise, it's too close."
Rafe, who had been swigging water from a cracked thermos, looked thoughtful. "Could be a yacht. Or maybe there's a nearby port or an abandoned fishing town."
Everyone went quiet. The word town carried too much weight these days—town meant people, people meant infection.
Rico, ever the optimist with a knack for gadgets, chimed in. "I haven't fully explored the area, but back when I had my drone—solar-powered, gift from my brother—I saw some interesting stuff. There's a mountain inland, and beyond it, another stretch of land. I spotted Old Conrad's house, thick forest trails, and a few distant houses. The drone had serious range."
Xenia froze. "You're saying there's another settlement nearby?"
"Yes," Rico replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I never thought to explore it. Not since things went to hell."
"Why didn't we know this sooner?" Xenia's voice cracked with urgency. "There could be survivors there. People who don't know what's coming. They need to be warned. If they get infected, that infection could circle back to us. It's not just about them—it's about protecting this whole place!"
"I agree with the urgency," Tenorio said, his voice calm but edged with realism. "But trust doesn't come easy. People out here are secluded and wary. Information is scarce. Electricity is basically non-existent. We can't rely on a single kerosene lamp forever."
"I'd like to file a formal complaint," said Nestor, raising a hand like he was in some apocalyptic town hall meeting. "I know it's bad timing, but I need my own room. I've been staying in that rotting shack with half a mattress and clothes soaked in blood. My dignity is hanging by a thread, literally."
"Nestor," Xenia groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "We are literally in a survival meeting."
"I'm just saying," he muttered. "Even prisoners of war get blankets."
"Your request is noted," she said dryly. "We'll include it in the next operations plan. Now can we please get back to what we actually accomplished today before I spontaneously combust?"
Rico raised a dirt-smudged hand. "Rafe and I started setting up the fencing. We've got about half the perimeter staked out, but it's just us two. We'll need at least another day to finish."
"And the storage hut's functional," Nestor added. "It's not exactly HGTV material, but it's solid. Could use paint, though. If anyone's hoarding some, now's the time to confess."
"Tenorio and I went to see Conrad again," Gabriel cut in, biting into a mango slice. "Still no dice. He's not budging. But we didn't leave empty-handed—Tenorio caught a boar."
Everyone perked up.
"A whole boar?" Brie asked, wide-eyed.
Gabriel nodded proudly. "We'll smoke it later. Maybe use some of those herbs Anna's been collecting."
Xenia, despite the swirling stress inside her, allowed herself a small nod of satisfaction. "Okay. Everyone—seriously—good job today. I know it doesn't feel like it, but we're making progress. Little by little, this place is becoming something… livable."
She turned to the group. "That said, I want you all to take a break. Use the shore, get some sun, rinse off. But stay alert—we saw something floating out there, and I'm not trusting the waves anymore. Rafe, Tenorio—you've got muscle. I want your eyes on the perimeter while the others rest."
Tenorio didn't say anything—just gave a knowing smirk. Xenia caught it and rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm finally growing into my leadership role. Don't get smug about it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said.
"Girls," Xenia turned to Brie, Anna, and Marga, "this isn't vacation. Once you're done cooling off, it's seed time. We can't eat enthusiasm. The sooner we grow something, the sooner we stop relying on lucky hunts and boars that practically begged to be speared."
Brie groaned, "Are we at least planting coffee?"
"Brie," Anna said, deadpan. "We're planting survival."
"I'm just saying," Brie muttered, dragging her feet. "If we're going to repopulate the earth, we should at least be caffeinated."
Marga stretched her arms. "Call me when the beach break ends. I'll be the one looking like a hot mess, literally."
As the group dispersed, Xenia lingered near the edge of camp, her gaze drifting toward the distant ocean. There was too much unknown out there. Other settlements. Other survivors. Other infected.
She wasn't a soldier. She wasn't a virologist. She was an overachieving education major with a slightly neurotic streak and a surprisingly well-organized planner—now smeared with dirt, blood, and sea salt.
But this ragtag crew? These people who argued over paint and room privacy and coffee beans? They were hers.
And come hell, high tide, or floating corpses—they were going to make it.
Even if she had to build paradise from scratch.