Early morning sun filters in through the shuttered windows, creating golden beams atop the white sheets. Next to her, Francis grumbles and rolls over toward her. She braces herself for the now familiar weight of his arm across her chest as he swings the tattooed appendage her way. She smiles and snuggles in closer to him. She'll miss mornings like this, being nearly overwhelmed by his large mass but feeling so protected that it doesn't matter. She looks at his face, the normally hard lines softer in sleep. She wants to reach out and trace his brow but she knows he'll wake up, and she doesn't want to disturb him on his last morning on the island. She looks toward the windows. Out there is a world that is cruel and dangerous, and they were willingly about to jump right back into it. Were they crazy? Was she crazy? What if they go back out there and something bad happens? What if Francis gets hurt trying to save her? He always had her back before and now ... She bites her lower lip, swinging her gaze back to his face. She smiles when she sees him looking at her.
"Stop worrying, would ya?" he grumbles, giving her a squeeze.
"I'm not worrying."
"Are too," he argues, nuzzling her neck. "You were worrying so loud you woke me up."
She laughs. "Sorry."
He pulls away, giving her a quick peck on the mouth. The bristly hairs of his goatee prick her chin. He starts to pull away but she whimpers a protest.
"Zo, doll, I gotta take a leak."
"No, you don't," she protests. "Stay."
He scowls but complies. She lays her cheek against his chest and idly plays with the springy hair there. Beneath her head, she can hear his strong heartbeat.
"Francis?"
"Mmm?"
"I think I might be a little scared."
He chuckles. "Not possible."
She looks up at him. "No, really. Promise me you won't do anything stupid like get yourself killed."
He raises his eyebrows in mock indignation. "Me? Do something stupid? Never."
"Seriously!"
She pushes back to look at him better, to show that she's serious. He heaves an exasperated sigh.
"Zoey, I can't make you promises I can't keep. No one can guarantee they won't die. Dying is a part of living."
She sighs, too. "I know that. It's just ... can you at least promise to be careful?"
He kisses her forehead. "I promise to be careful. I've always been careful. I don't want to die, believe it or not." He reaches out and touches her hair. "Truth be told, I'm worried about you, too."
"I'll be careful," she pledges. "I don't want to die, either."
He leers at her. "Well, you know, we're not dead yet so ... how about we make the most of being alive and ..."
He pulls her close, claiming her mouth hungrily, saying without words how they should take advantage of being alive.
_______________________________________
Later, after taking their baths and eating a quick breakfast, they go back to their room to get dressed for the trip back. Killing zombies in a bikini wasn't really practical. Francis lamented this point but agreed.
They had done their best to wash their old clothing. It had never crossed Zoey's mind to just throw her ratty jeans and stained jacket away. Maybe she had always known in the back of her mind that she'd be going back. She pulls on her jeans, wrinkling her nose at the faint smell of decay. I'll get used to that again, unfortunately. She starts to pull her red hoodie over her white t-shirt, but stops when Francis touches her shoulder. He has already dressed. He wears his precious leather vest, but this time, instead of a white tank underneath, he has on a black t-shirt. He said it didn't show guts and blood like the white one. He had a point.
"Um ... I got something for ya," he says almost sheepishly.
She smiles. "Yeah?"
"It's not much, but, yeah ... Here."
He unceremoniously thrusts a pile of black fabric at her. She takes it gingerly, shaking it out. When she sees what it is, she beams.
"Francis! You got me another hoodie?"
He ducks his head. She thinks she sees a little bit of a blush creeping up his stubbled cheeks.
"Yeah, well, that one," he gestures to the stained and ripped red hoodie she had placed on the bed, "is gross. And red. I hate red. So."
She laughs and throws her arms around him. He accepts her weight, snaking his arms around her waist and hugging her tight. She peppers his cheek and neck with kisses.
"Thank you!" she exclaims breathlessly.
"Hey, I didn't think it'd mean that much to ya ..."
She shakes her head. "No, it does. I mean, that you thought of me means a lot to me. It's sweet and nice."
"Eh. I can be sweet and nice. Sometimes. Don't tell Louis."
She laughs again.
"I won't." She turns the jacket this way and that, checking it out. "When did you get it?"
He blushes again. "Er. Um ..." He scratches the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. "I got it back when we holed up in that store after wrecking the train."
She cocks her head to the side, remembering that he had been missing the morning after she had fallen asleep against his shoulder. She smiles at him. He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down at his boots.
"I don't know. I was going to give it to you before, but I just ... didn't. Guess I wasn't meant to yet."
"Thank you," she whispers again as she slips the new hoodie on. It fits perfectly. She zips up the front and faces him with her arms outstretched. "How do I look?"
"Sexy as Hell," he growls, grabbing her again.
He nibbles on her neck while she protests in vain. She finally manages to push him off.
"We gotta go," she says firmly, although going was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment.
"Yeah, I know. Come on. I'm sure Louis is waiting. Probably doing a happy little jig."
Together, they walk down the stairs and out to the courtyard. Louis is waiting, but he's not doing a happy little jig. For once, he looks downtrodden. When he sees them coming, he plasters a smile on his face.
"Ready to kick some zombie ass?"
Francis scowls. "Louis, it really is too bad you're immune. I'd like to shoot zombie you. I'd shoot you now, but Zoey might get pissed at me."
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "Everything on the boat?"
"Yeah. I double-checked just now to make sure we had everything we needed."
She shrugs. "Well, I guess we're ready, then."
Louis nods and turns to walk toward the sailboat at the dock. Zoey reaches out to Francis and he takes her into his arms.
"It'll be ok," he murmurs.
She cups the side of his face, gazing into his eyes. She wants to remember them as they are now, before they cloud over with gritty determination. She nods, although she's not entirely convinced.
"I love you," she whispers.
"I love you, too, firebug." He kisses her briefly but passionately. "In the words of Sunshine Beams, 'Ready to kick some zombie ass?'"
She pulls away and squares her shoulders. "Yup."
"Let's go."
He takes her hand and leads her away from the mansion. She forces herself to not look back.
_______________________________________
On the boat, Zoey pulls out the map, looking at the Atlantic Ocean.
"So, we're here," she says to Francis, pointing.
"Huh. Why couldn't we have gone a few more miles and stayed on Money Island?"
She laughs. "Well, it has a name so that probably means it was previously occupied."
"Still, Money Island, man."
She shakes her head and goes back to studying the map. "Louis, it looks like it's about 400 miles to Savannah. We could try that place you mentioned: Fort Pulaski. Here it is."
Louis leans over her shoulder. "Ready to visit another island, Francis? Bet that just makes your day!"
Francis grumbles something under his breath and walks away. Zoey and Louis share a smile.
"I think before we attempt checking out a military base, we find out their stance on us," Francis says from near the stern.
Zoey shrugs. "He has a point. It wouldn't be smart to just dock right at the military's doorstep."
"Well, let's check out Tybee Island first. See what's going on there. We can approach the fort on foot. Looks like it'll be easy to get onto the island. We can sail right up Tybee Creek and find a dock."
Nodding, Zoey puts the map down. "Sounds good to me." She looks at Francis. "Poor Francis. He just can't get away from islands."
Louis rolls his shoulders. "Well, guess we better settle in for a good long trip." Zoey watches as Louis does some math in his head. "If we travel at 25 knots it'll take us about 16 hours to reach Tybee Island."
"Couldn't we use the engine and go faster?"
"Well, we could, but I'd rather save that for an emergency. As long as we've got a good wind in our sails, let's just use it."
Zoey shrugs. "Whatever you say, captain."
She walks away to look over the railing, watching as Francis pulls the anchor and Louis unties the knots holding the boat to the dock. Together, they push off. She had been surprised to find that Louis actually had sailing experience. He never mentioned it when they were talking about sailing to the Keys. He had told her that he hadn't wanted to steal Bill's thunder. She sits down on the bench at her feet, letting the boys handle the job of getting the boat on its way. She looks out across the ocean, both ready to be back on land and not ready. She puts her head in her hands. It was about to happen whether she was ready or not. When Francis comes to sit beside her, she curls up her feet and rests her head on his chest. She listens to his voice rumble in his chest as he gives Louis a hard time. The comforting sound eventually lulls her to sleep.
_______________________________________
Later that night, they drop the anchor and light the gas lanterns hanging from the sides of the boat, just in case. They hadn't seen another vessel, but they still didn't want to take the chance that a bigger boat would plow over them in the dark. They take turns sleeping so that someone can keep an eye out. The next day, they sat out early, eager to get the trip over.
As they near Tybee Creek, they begin sorting out their weapons. Francis gleefully picks up his snub shotgun, stroking it lovingly and calling it baby. Zoey rolls her eyes as she picks up her chrome shotgun. Louis chooses a sub machine gun from the limited selection, of course. He also equips himself with a homemade pipe bomb. Probably something Bill had engineered.
"When we hit land, firebug, I'll make you a Molotov," Francis promises.
She laughs. "Thanks."
He gives her a side-squeeze, kissing the top of her head. "Anything for my girl."
They find a dock not even a mile in on the river. Francis and Louis get the boat squared away while Zoey checks through their supplies one last time, making sure they gathered everything the could. She opens one of the benches and sees a crumbled up olive green material. Bill's jacket. Francis and Louis had gone down after the horde to check on Bill, to confirm that he didn't make it. Francis had brought back his jacket, thinking Zoey might want to keep something of his. He had been right, but she hadn't been able to really appreciate the gesture at the time. Now, she takes out the jacket, touching the bloodstains gingerly and cringing.
"Bill," she whispers.
She sits down, running her hands over the jacket as she thinks about all they had been through. She feels something in one of the many pockets. She hesitates, not really wanting to pilfer through his personal belongings but feeling a persistent need to investigate. She opens the flap, seeing folded up paper and what appears to be a Polaroid photograph. She pulls the stack out. She sees that she's holding not one piece of folded paper but two. She sets these aside and turns over the picture. She gasps, drawing the attention of the guys.
"Zoey! What's wrong?" Francis walks over to her, concerned etched on his face.
She holds out the photograph. He takes it, studying it. He looks at her, a question in his eyes. Beside him, Louis also looks at the photo.
"Um ..." She licks her lips. "That's ... that's me. I was ... um ... I was three, I think."
Francis looks back down at the picture. "Why the Hell would Bill have an old picture of you?"
She shakes her head. "I have no idea."
She reaches down to retrieve the folded papers. She opens one and sees that it's a handwritten letter. She reads:
William,
I apologize for the delay in my letter. I had to wait until I could get to the post office alone. He watches me all the time anymore. This letter will be short, but I really wanted to share a picture with you of my dear, sweet little Zoey-bug. She has hit the terrible three's, William, and she's a handful! Just like her daddy. Just like her granddaddy, to be honest. You always were a pistol!
I miss you so. I would give anything if this life I live could be with you. These are your babies, William, and it's just not fair that you only get to witness their lives through photographs and letters. But I can't leave Richard. He would kill me. He would kill you. He is as mean as the day is long. I fear for my life even writing to you, but I cannot ... will not ... cut all ties with you. I must have you in my life or I will ...
Nevermind, William. Don't worry about me. Or your babies. I have always kept them safe and I always will. And don't you go thinking you're going to come charging in to rescue me. It won't work. You remember what happened last time. I couldn't stand the thought of you being hurt again. As it is, he thinks he's put you off. Let him believe that. Let him have the shell of me, you have my heart. You will always have my heart.
Love,
Sarah
She bites her lip as she tries to wrap her head around what the letter alludes to. No way. This letter is from Grammy. My Grammy. What ... She looks up at Francis, her eyes wide with wonder.
"What is it, Zo?"
"This letter ... I think it's from my grandmother to ... to Bill."
Louis moves forward, reaching out for the letter. She hands it to him. He reads it quickly.
"No way. Does this mean what I think it means?"
"What is going on?" Francis growls.
Louis hands him the letter. As he reads, Zoey unfolds the other letter. This one is older and had apparently been read over and over. Zoey has to fight to hold back the tears as she reads. It was definitely a letter from her grandmother. In it she talks about finding out she's pregnant with Bill's child and how scared she is about her husband, Richard, finding out. She begs Bill to let Richard think it's his. Apparently, Richard, the man Zoey had always assumed was her grandfather, was a mean old bastard. Her grandmother honestly feared for her life. Zoey narrows her eyes. She barely remembers anything about her grandfather. She was young when he passed. She did remember that he was grouchy and not loving at all. Her father had a very strained relationship with him. She remembers her grandmother clearly and fondly. It had broken Zoey's heart when she had passed just last year.
Tenderly, she folds the letter and slides it back into Bill's pocket. She won't let Louis and Francis read that one. It's too personal.
"So, the old man was your grandfather?" Francis asks, astonishment in his voice.
Zoey looks up at him, shrugging. "I guess so."
"Well, that would certainly explain why he was so protective of you, Zoey," Louis says. "You really were his family."
Zoey nods. "I can't believe it. Why didn't he tell me?"
"Maybe he meant to," Louis suggests. "Maybe he thought he had more time."
"We always think we have more time," Zoey murmurs.
She thinks back to being in the Army stronghold with him, when they had thought he was her father. She never would have guessed that they weren't far off in their assumption. She takes back the picture and letter Francis offers her. She puts them away in the pocket with the other letter. She folds the jacket gently. She stands, opening the bench, and places it back inside.
Francis pulls her into a hug when she straightens.
"You ok, firebug?"
She nods, feeling the leather of his vest slide against her cheek. "Yeah. It's just ... Wow."
"Yeah. Wow."
"Heh," Louis chuckles, "that really explains why you're such a badass. Anybody with Bill's blood has to be a tough bird."
Zoey pulls away from Francis and laughs. "Yeah. Guess it's in my genes, huh?"
Francis cocks his gun. "Well, Bill, Jr., let's see how badass you are. Ready?"
"Hell, yeah, I'm ready. Let's do this."
They climb off the boat, weapons ready. As they walk off the dock, a solo zombie charges toward them, screaming. Francis levels his weapon, muscles flexing, and fires. The zombie is knocked off its feet and goes tumbling backwards, guts flying. Francis smiles wickedly.
"Hey, Honey," he yells. "I'm home!"