Day 21
"This place can now live on its own," Gabriel announced proudly, standing with arms crossed as he looked over the newly harvested garden. Rows of spinach, kale, sweet potatoes, and a few desperate-looking carrots waved under the morning sun like a vegetable flag of independence.
Tenorio, who had just finished sharpening his machete with a rock that had clearly seen better days, nodded. "Right. But I've been thinking... maybe it's time we went out there again. You know, see if there are more people to save."
Gabriel's smile dimmed a little. He knew Tenorio's thoughts always went back to his son. The graduation day. The chaos. The screams. The blood.
Rafe, who was polishing the blade of something that looked like a hybrid between a machete and a katana, grinned. "I like that idea. I even managed to make us some weapons. Look! This baby can cut a zombie clean in half or slice tomatoes without bruising them."
"It was a long journey. I'm tired walking miles and miles," Rico muttered. He was elbow-deep in a static-riddled radio he refused to give up on, because, in his words, "This radio is the last connection to the normal world... or Taylor Swift."
"I'm past it. No more journeys for me," Nestor declared, waving his still-bandaged hand in the air like he was swatting away responsibility. "My hip said 'no' and my ankle said 'never again.'"
"I want to go," Marga admitted, "but I'm worried about Brie doing all the chores alone. The field is huge, and between the planting, tending, cooking, laundry, cleaning, and brushing Wild Man's beard if he passes out again... it's too much."
Everyone slowly turned to Brie, who was cheerfully tying her hair back with a vine and planting okra as if she were in a cooking show. Cecil toddled behind her with a water pail, doing her best to help, but mostly watering her shoes.
"I want you to come with us, Xenia," Tenorio said suddenly. He leaned forward slightly. "We'll be gone for seven days. I know it's long, but half a day is nothing. We haven't even seen half the map of this island."
Xenia blinked. "Wait, what?"
"This place is secure for now. The Wild Man and his dog are on watch."
"His name is Blakie, not 'The Dog,' Tenorio. Show some respect." Xenia frowned, stroking the head of baby Rhys, who was asleep in her arms, drooling like a peaceful leaky faucet.
Tenorio rubbed his forehead. "Right. Blakie. Whatever."
Rafe cracked his knuckles. "I miss doing action stuff. Even if it kills me, I'm pumped."
"Why do you say that so casually?" Rico asked.
"Because I look good in danger."
Rico rolled his eyes.
Xenia looked down at Rhys. She couldn't just leave him. She fed him, sang lullabies to him in lullaby-adjacent tones, and even invented a bottle-feeding system using bamboo and a goat's nipple. But the mission needed her. Her people needed her. Ugh, the conflict.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of him," Anna said softly.
"I'll help too!" Cecil chirped, raising a stick like it was a sword.
Xenia looked over at Irah, old and silent in the corner, blinking at birds only she could see.
She sighed. "Fine. I'll go."
---
Before departure, everyone gathered near the cabin.
"Good luck. Don't let any zombies nibble on you," Marga said. "I'm rooting for you."
Brie handed each of them a custom-knitted survival bag—embroidered with their names and decorated with cheerful little sunflowers. "There's food, water, clothes, weapons, and a tiny jar of coconut oil. For morale."
As they reached the forest trail, Rafe couldn't help but talk. About himself.
"I was a professor, you know. Exercise Science. Had girls lining up just to ask me about push-up form."
Xenia smirked. "I bet it was the fitted t-shirts."
Rafe chuckled. "So you noticed."
"No, I didn't. I was in the library. My degree didn't require biceps."
Tenorio, walking ahead with the energy of a suspicious dad, sighed. "Are you two going to flirt the whole way, or should I just leave you in a bush now?"
They reached a small, abandoned village with eight cabins.
"I'm tired," Xenia groaned, slumping under the shade of a large tree.
"Let's rest for a bit," Tenorio agreed.
Rafe stood guard while the other two sat. Xenia hugged her knees.
"I miss my baby."
Tenorio didn't even turn around. "He's not your baby."
That one stung.
"But I feed him, play with him, make him smile. Being a mom is weird. But... he gives me a reason to stay alive."
"Please cut the drama, Xenia," Tenorio snapped. "We can't afford emotions. This isn't a telenovela. Focus."
Xenia, now sobbing like a leaking faucet, hiccupped. "Sorry! I didn't mean to get all 'Mother Goose' about it!"
Rafe sat beside her and handed her a piece of dried mango. "Here. You cry prettier with snacks."
They laughed. Even Tenorio cracked a smirk.
They continued exploring, entering the first of the eight cabins. Most were empty. Some had old belongings—photos, shoes, a creepy porcelain doll named "Joyce" that Xenia decided was definitely cursed and left untouched.
In one of the cabins, Rafe found a working can opener and a crowbar. "Now I can open beans and heads."
They set up a temporary camp and made dinner from dried rice, canned sardines, and a stolen mango. They were a strange team—an ex-military man with permanent RBF (Resting Battle Face), a gym rat with a heart of gold and a protein obsession, a radio-fixer sarcastic nerd, and a former valedictorian who just wanted to survive and be loved.
As they huddled near the fire, Xenia looked up at the stars.
"Do you think baby Rhys misses me?"
"He's probably asleep. Or screaming. Or pooping."
"That... actually sounds accurate."
Rafe put an arm around her.
Tenorio rolled his eyes. "If I hear one more flirt, I'll make you bunk in separate trees."
They laughed.
But in the distance, something howled. Something long and hollow. It wasn't Blakie. It wasn't a normal wolf. And it wasn't human.
The fire crackled, the wind picked up, and they went quiet.
"Maybe I should've stayed and changed diapers," Xenia muttered.
Rafe stood, holding his blade. "Maybe. But now you have me to protect you."
"Oh great," she deadpanned. "A six-pack of muscle and delusion."
He winked.
And Tenorio? He tightened his grip on his weapon and whispered, "Stay alert. Tonight might not be so peaceful."