text: You rev up the motorcycle. Doc throws the garage doors open, and then violently cracks the skull of the single zombie lingering by the exit. Your companions jump in the other vehicles, waiting for your signal. Doc throws one more bag of gear into the truck before hurling himself on top of it.
  
  "I'm riding with you..." Katherine says as she steps to your bike. "...but don't get any big ideas." she jokes as she gracefully straddles the seat facing backwards securely. You rest your weapon on the handlebars. "let's three-sixty." she concludes with a final quip, her sub-machine gun gripped and slung tight about her broad shoulders and ample chest. You feel her draw a serious posture, and you begin your journey.
  
  Bay Point Marina is still a long way off when you encounter your first serious obstacle- a horde of the undead congest your way through a small town. You nod to the drivers behind you waving agreeingly- you'll split up if needed. You slow down to consider your options.... you can:
  
  > go across the farm to reach to the main road.
  You decide to cut across the farm, hoping to avoid the zombies; or getting stuck. At least you won't get lost going this way. You follow a path between two overgrown rows of crop and turn onto a dirt road. Several zombies wander the fields and shuffle toward you and groan as you pass.
  
  Far ahead, you see a gate across the dirt road where it meets the main road. There are more shamblers on the road past the gate. Katherine grabs the door handle, ready to leap out to open the gate. But you have a better idea- you see a flatbed trailer, unhitched, tilted with it's rear touching the ground. You gas your ride and aim to hit the ramp straight.
  
  "You can't be serious!!" cries Katherine, "Slow down! I can. . ."
  
  But your speed is just too great and your determination cuts her off. You are committed to the jump. The vehicle bucks violently as you hit the trailer, flying over it. You float weightless through the air. Then you clear the gate and land with a powerful jolt, bowling into three zombies standing in the road. You turn and drive away, leaving the small overrun town behind you.
  
  You drive a few hours before reaching Bay Point Marina.
  
  > Continue...
  The Eastern sky turns pink and the air damp.
  
  Bay Point Marina is in a secluded spot. A long driveway stretches before you, disappearing into the trees. You begin to wonder if you've taken a wrong turn, when soon enough, it opens into a parking lot. You see the various buildings and docks that comprise the marina. The rising Sun shines on the water and the boats. There are dozens of yachts of all shapes and sizes, maybe a hundred or more docked along several floating piers. You can smell the water. Pandrice Island seems closer than ever.
  
  It will be safer in the day, at least outside, you've learned over the past weeks.
  The rotters hate the Sun.
  
  Gratefully, you see some of the other vehicles from your caravan already parked near the main building- a combination lodge, restaurant, gift-shop, and office. Thick rope and old life-preservers decorate it's blue and white facade. Off to it's side, you see a stack of headless corpses. Then you see one of your mates waving from the door. You park facing the gate, leaving the key, and stretch your tired legs as you stand. You take another look around at the other buildings and the docks before stepping inside. Far away, you think you see a figure in the shadow of a doorway, but disregard it.
  
  Doc greets you inside, expressing his happiness with a giant grin for both you and Katherine. The hotel lobby is nice. You wave to the other survivors lounging on couches and chairs which ring a large coffee table, and they shout back happily. Maps (or charts, rather) and books on boating are spread across the table.
  
  Still near the main doors, Katherine steps to a familiar looking duffel bag resting on the reception counter and begins picking through it. There are also several bottles of water and a few bags of chips on the desk, plucked from the shelves of the adjoining shop, no doubt. You chug a whole bottle, then slowly drink another with some chips while Doc explains the situation.
  
  "There are a number of buildings," he begins, leading you and Kat upstairs. "The hotel here should be safe for a day, but that won't be enough time to search and gather everything. And of course, we have to assess the boats available, choose one, load it, and leave. Soon. That mob that split us up last night.... some will try to follow us, I think... And just our presence here..." he stops, not wanting to speak it aloud. "We'll split into teams today to get everything ready for tomorrow morning."
  
  > continue upstairs...
  At the top of the steps, the first room's door is propped open. Down the hall, a disturbing dark patch stains the floor and walls. Doc continues into the room and walks to a broad window, stepping into the bright morning light and pointing out over the marina.
  
  You join him at the window. The Sun feels good.
  The boats rock lazily in the twinkling waves.
  
  "You can see the best transportation." he says, pointing out and squinting. A few giant trawlers dominate the fleet of small craft. The two largest sit at the end of the longest dock. "Once they're secure, Ron will hot-wire one and prep it. He'll need help clearing that pier and watching his back while he works. Should be easy."
  
  Doc moves his hand, drawing your attention to a large wood building near the water, to the right of the docks. "The ship chandler's shop," he continues, "sells boating supplies.... or did, anyway." There are several vehicles parked end-to-end encircling the main doorway; the doors are gone. It looks dangerous. "We'll need food and stuff from there. Normally, that's where you'd also get fuel, at that fuel dock there, BUT with the electricity and the pumps out...."
  
  His hand shifts to a different building, to the left, past the farthest pier- this one is a low, broad, plainly-painted tin shed; obviously some kind of machine shop. A tall derrick sits just beyond it. A narrow service road reaches it from a corner of the lot. It doesn't seem dangerous, but it is far from any safety or help. "The fuel tanks over there should have hand-cranked pumps. Besides, Ron may have to scrounge in there later for tools or parts."
  
  "Of course," Doc says, shifting his hand to the window sill, pointing down, "we'll leave a guard here to watch the hotel while a few folks rest up to guard tonight. They'll also watch the parking lot, the vehicles, and the driveway- just in case." Doc drops his hand. "We're hoping more will make it before we leave."
  
  He turns away from the window to face you and Katherine, ending his speech.
  "Frankly, I'm just glad you made it." he concludes.
  
  The three of you return downstairs to the lobby and join the others.
  The group spends a few moments sorting out the details of the day before beginning.
  
  You decide to:
  
  > help secure the pier.
  The group breaks up into parties and sets out from the hotel. You and Ron head across the parking lot. He carries an H&K MP5 submachine, and wears a small but heavily loaded backpack. You here tools and cans and other metal bits clanking about inside it as you walk. Reading the concern on your face, he shrugs his shoulders and heaves the gun. "Heck," he says, "bring 'em on. I got my phaser set to 'fuck-it-up'." He wags his thumb by the weapon's selector switch, which is pointing to a little red 'F'.
  
  You reach the head of the pier. He shoulders the butt of his gun and gets serious. "I'll watch the front and sides. You watch the back. Double-check the boats as we pass." Following his lead, you begin down the floating dock. It moves gently beneath your feet. You give extra care to your footing. You watch intently, but see nothing. You reach the end without incident. All the boats (at least on this pier) are clear.
  
  The two of you climb on to the large boat Doc had pointed out earlier and, searching carefully, find it safe. Ron begins tinkering about while you stand on the deck, watching the pier. He blurts Star Trek references while performing his work. Occasionally he jots notes in a small notebook. It is suprisingly clean for the condition of his hands. He shakes his head approvingly as he inspects the vessel, and you take it as a good sign.
  
  The first time Ron starts the engines, for a second, you feel the irrational urge to just run. Right then and there. To just flee in the boat, as it is, leaving reason and caution and your companions behind. The impulse lasts only a moment, but it is a strong one. You begin to feel the exertions from the previous night catching up to you.
  
  The day passes uneventfully. You are pretty sure Ron has checked everything at least four times, if not more, before finally asking him if he's ready. He admits he's being overly thorough, and motions to the hotel with his notebook.
  
  You return to the security of the lodge. You wash, eat, and lay to rest. Exhausted from the toil of the previous night's flight and the day's vigil, you instantly drop to sleep.
  
  > Continue...
  Dreams of life before the out-break swirl in your mind with images of your former shelter. Faces of family and friends mix in an overlay with the horrifying sights you've seen since the outbreak. Your memory betrays you. A dizzying collage of aquaintences and dead strangers warps into a frightful parade. Then, one face grabs your vision- it's features are a bizzare mix of Katherine and your mother, zombified. She scowls at you in sour disappointment, shaking a dead finger disapprovingly. You cringe, feeling guilty and ashamed and confused. Your body tries to squirm, but Hypnos' paralysis holds you.
  
  You wake early. You are eager to get under way, as are all your companions. Pandrice Island should be 24 hours away- if Doc, as Captain now, knows where he's going. And Ron Culling, as "Chief Engineer", can keep the engines running... by keeping the warp core stable and the plasma injectors clear, apparently.
  
  The morning's preparations go smoothly and the boat is quickly stocked and boarded. Your intrepid group leaves with the Sun still low. Clouds gather on the horizon.
  
  The marina fades behind as you set into open water. The waves grow alarmingly large away from the coast. The boat rolls in every direction, but mainly pitches up and down cutting through the foamy water. Many get sea-sick initially; Katherine and a few others never recover, remaining ill.
  
  Dim, diffused light seeps from a thickening layer of white clouds through mid-day. Doc (now "Cap") and a fellow survivor, Brian, take turns navigating the trawler from the pilot house. You occasionally join them. Sea spray and rain confine everyone else to the living quarters. Discussions center on what you'll find, and the tactics of landing safely. Some hold the hope of finding other survivors already established there, but most think that unlikely. The night brings fierce weather and waves. The violence prevents proper rest.
  
  The next morning brings better conditions, but when the expected time of arrival comes with no sign of Pandrice island, or any island, or any land of any kind, everyone grows concerned. A few panic and demand to turn back, but Katherine calms them, and Doc convinces them to wait, explaining the delay and reassuring them with a lamenated chart and a simple (but rugged) GPS device. The day passes with clearing weather. When it gets dark, Doc himself begins to secretly expresses some self-doubt and fear.
  
  Then, that evening, in a fragile nap you at long last hear a joyous cry from above. Brian is piloting from the top of the craft, pointing eagerly with a jabbing hand and offering cartoonishly large binoculars with the other. You climb to the flying bridge and scan the horizon with the heavy glasses. Everything is black. Then your eyes adjust, and you see it- a short, thin, [i]steady[/i], unbelievable steady, wonderfully steady line. It peeks meekly between the low waves from under the skirt of the sky. Doc joins you. He looks, then tilts his face to the sky and releases a sigh. You pat him on the back with a squeeze on the shoulder. He leaves to share the details of the news with the others.
  
  The island grows enormous as you approach. Two hours pass before Brian finally kills the engine- the absence of it's droning is noticeable. The silhouette of land stretches wide before you. It is nearly midnight. Tomorrow, you will begin surveying the coast for a landing point.
  
  > Pandrice Island
  Your party landed safely on Pandrice Island.
  
  In fact, you were welcomed- greeted by survivors already established there.
  
  And others came after you, in the months that followed. In those months, you occasionally returned to the mainland for supplies, and to search for more survivors. You found few alive, but there was always more undead. Every trip was a harrowing adventure. As time passed, the forrays were more to procure books (on every topic) and special items (like a short wave radio) and less on fuel and ammo. Eventually, you stopped going.
  
  Now, on the relative safety of the island, you attempt to build a new life and a new world. Hope has slowly returned. Your group has been in radio contact with a number of groups scattered around the world. They congratulate Katherine on her pregnency.
  
  You have survived the zombi-pocalypse......... for now.