The Wild Man's house was finally finished—miraculously still standing near the shoreline and not, say, floating out to sea on a raft of regret and bad carpentry. It leaned a little, the door creaked like a dramatic theater kid, and the window was more "abstract hole" than "functional view," but it was his.
"No, we are not rebuilding it if it gets blown away," Xenia had declared earlier. "I'm not chasing your hut across the tide like a divorced sea witch."
Gabriel, possibly the only sane adult in the group, had just grunted in agreement while hammering down the last plank.
It wasn't luxury, but it was livable. And it came with a built-in "complaint system," a.k.a. The Wild Man himself—who would absolutely be writing Yelp reviews if civilization still had Wi-Fi.
---
Rico the Braver-than-Reasonable volunteered as the daily food courier. In exchange, the Wild Man had to fish while on shoreline patrol.
"Let him vibe with the fish and his existential dread," Xenia shrugged. "Solitude AND protein? Win-win."
---
Back at Gabriel's Cabin, the place was starting to feel like an actual post-apocalyptic Airbnb:
The farm was thriving, thanks to Marga, Brie, and the magical power of threatening plants with emotional stability.
The second floor was done, featuring three whole rooms, one shared bathroom, and a stockroom full of rope, fear, and the lingering smell of sweat.
Tenorio and Nestor shared a bunkbed in what they'd dubbed "The Barracks." Nestor had already hit his thumb again—three times.
Irah and Cecil had the coziest corner. Dried flowers, handmade blankets, and the gentle undercurrent of "We might cry at any moment, but we'll cry with taste." Irah was getting weaker by the day. Xenia noticed. Everyone did. No one said it.
Then there was Xenia's room. A space that was quiet, functional, and hers. She didn't ask for it. Leadership, apparently, came with a door you could close when you needed to have a breakdown or scream into a sock.
---
At exactly 12:58 PM, the chaos began.
Request Tsunami:
Tenorio: "We need to find a vehicle. My calves are ready to file a lawsuit."
Nestor (from his watchtower): "Scrap metal. I want a wall they can't climb. I saw what they did to the old barn. It was disrespectful."
Anna: "We're running low on meds. Irah needs more."
Rico: "Can we get a radio? I'm tired of talking to birds."
Brie: "I want a new dress. This one smells like despair."
Marga: "We need bleach. I saw something growing in the water bucket."
Gabriel: "Cement. Before the rain hits and the whole cabin becomes a mudslide."
Cecil: "Do we have any toys?" (Cue the entire group emotionally combusting.)
Xenia wrote it all down in her apocalypse planner™ and sighed like she had aged five years in thirty seconds.
"So many requests," she muttered. "So little serotonin."
---
Scouting Squad Assemble
By 1:15 PM, Tenorio, Rafe, and Rico were already hiking down the Forest Trail, machetes ready, nerves caffeinated by pure dread.
They passed Irah's old house. It looked untouched. Peaceful.
"It's weird," Rico said. "Feels like the forest's holding its breath."
Xenia met them midway down the path, just in time to catch up. Four-person squad: activated.
They stumbled on an unfamiliar clearing—eight or ten small cabins, abandoned but eerily intact.
"Too quiet," Rafe whispered.
"Too horror movie," Xenia added.
---
Cabin Scavenger Speedrun
Cabin 1:
Three cans of sardines
Two bottles of water
A flashlight
A faded regional map
Score: 7/10. Slightly cursed energy but practical supplies.
Cabin 2 (Rico + Tenorio):
Four bars of soap
First aid kit
Children's storybook
Radio (missing antenna)
Box of crackers
Score: 9/10. Emotional landmines + carbs.
Cabin 3 (Xenia + Rafe):
They entered. And froze.
A baby.
Not a zombie. Not crying. Just… asleep.
Wrapped in a pile of musty blankets, like the world forgot to panic for a moment.
"Who leaves a baby like this?" Rafe whispered.
"People who never got the chance to come back," Xenia said, her throat dry.
She crouched, checked the baby's forehead, arms, chest. No bite. No fever. Just warm and breathing and so terribly quiet.
She picked them up slowly, the weight unfamiliar and terrifying in her arms.
"You're real," she whispered. "Okay."
---
Cabin 4:
Blood. On the door.
Rico nearly noped into the next dimension.
"I don't wanna see what's inside."
"Window," Rafe said.
They peeked.
Two zombies. Former humans. Now pacing like caged nightmares.
Tenorio and Rafe didn't hesitate. They found planks, nailed the door shut. The undead shrieked behind the wood, their teeth gnashing, but the barricade held.
They stood still afterward. Listening. Breathing.
It wasn't a win.
But it wasn't a loss.
---
The Walk Back
Xenia cradled the baby. Rafe walked beside her, silent, glancing over every shadow. Rico was unusually quiet. Tenorio kept checking the trees like he expected them to whisper secrets.
"We come back tomorrow," Xenia finally said. "There might be more."
"Assuming nothing follows us first," Rico added.
The abandoned village disappeared behind them, swallowed by green.
In Xenia's arms, the baby didn't make a sound.
Just warm. Fragile. Alive.
The kind of hope that felt dangerous.