The city was dark, but not silent. Not that she expected it to be. The city hadn't been silent for a long time. Well, for two weeks. Two weeks that felt like two years. Zoey paced, unhappy with the situation she was in. They'd lost Bill. Hell they'd tried, tried hard, but they just couldn't go back and help him. They couldn't risk him dying in vain. They just couldn't. She sighed, and let her hair down from its seemingly permanent pony tail, and sat back, her head in her hands, and cried silently.

"Zoey?" a soft whisper from the doorway of the room drew her attention. "Louis!" She quickly sniffed and wiped her eyes, angry that somebody who wasn't Bill witnessed her walls down, she never cried, not even around Francis. "Look, Zoey..." Louis rested his shotgun up against the wall of foodstuffs. He took a seat next to her, and placed his arm around her slumped shoulders. "He wouldn't have wanted this. Really. He cared for you, kid, for all of us. Otherwise he wouldn't have done this. He thinks we can have a chance, and we have to make the most of it. I know we have to go back into the city, and it will only be a quick run, you know it. And then off to the island. To safety, to ride this thing out. Hell, we may never have to come back to this shitstorm of a place"

She looked at him, feeling slightly better. "I just feel awful. I should of gone back…sacrificed myself for you guys…"

"No!" Louis cut in quickly, causing Zoey to look sharply at him. "No. I don't want to sound cruel but we all know that Bill, well Bill may not have survived, and I'm not saying this based on the apocalypse. We know Bill was caught out in the middle of an operation, Christ knows what for. He was on his last legs"

"He's not…he wasn't a donkey, Louis, we got this far!"

"Yes, but how much longer would he have lasted? You have your whole life to live. Bill lived his. And I'm sure he died happy knowing that he died for you . For us. He loved you like a daughter."

Zoey was shocked. She didn't realise that Lewis understood Bill, almost as well as she did.

"Hey cheer up, it could be worse." She could almost hear the smile in Louis' voice.

"We could've lost Francis. I mean, who'd miss his hate of everything except the army, vests and sex!" Zoey laughed. A real, laugh. She stopped, and so did Louis' heart, thinking he'd made a joke which overstepped the mark. She stood up, and spun to face him. "I agree with you about the doubt of love of the army and vests, Louis, but please, don't tell me you don't agree with his love of sex?" Her eyes glinted with the rhetorical question, and Louis could've blushed.

"Any way, sport, you rest up that leg, I'll visit our one man army, whilst you make a list of what we've got to get in town." She picked up his abandoned shotgun, and left the back room. Lewis sat back, wiped his throbbing forehead, and couldn't think of a better girl he'd rather spend a zombie apocalypse with.

Francis. Zoey liked Francis. She loved Bill like a father, and Louis, a brother, yet she wasn't sure where Francis fitted into the equation. Sometimes she hated him, God Damn wanted to shoot him where he stood. Sometimes he annoyed her, with his retarded remarks about how he hated things, and how he was irked when she simply replied "Groovy". Sometimes, and this was actually about 50% of the time, she wanted to rip his clothes off and sink to the floor with him. There was just something about him. But she didn't like him for a relationship, no, not at all. Just sex. All physical. If it was up to them to repopulate after this massive shitstorm passed, if it passed, they'd wilfully oblige, if it involved dirty, hot sex. They'd not been caught out in the past two weeks, but things were strained, them needing each other more and more after the past few days, and boy, today did she need him.

"Francis?" she walked onto the deck of the boat, slowly and quietly. They'd moved the boat to an obscure stretch of water, and it was misty, but it didn't hurt to be cautious. His back was to her, his muscular arms busy, reassembling a newly cleaned rifle. He turned his head, as she approached, and gestured with a hand for her to take a seat. She sat down, folding her legs underneath her, and rested her head on his muscular leg, and closed her eyes. Fuck, she was tired.

After he snapped the final piece of the gun into place, he gently placed his hand on Zoey's hair, playing with it, winding strands around his fingers, just how he knew she liked it. He liked her, but even though he was unaware of how she felt, in the same way she did. Sometimes he hated her guts, sometimes he wanted just to have sex with her. He knew they probably shouldn't be having copious amounts of unprotected sex, for fear of bringing a baby into this sick world, but they couldn't help it, and Francis came from the "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it" school of learning. Zoey wriggled under him, and he slipped his hand from her hair to her hot cheek, stroking small circles with his fingertips. She sighed contentedly. "Even though the world's gone to shit, I sure would kill for more moments like these, honey" Francis said, in a quiet, gentle voice, something which would usually sound wrong coming from his mouth, but around Zoey, it was more often than not that he spoke with this voice.

Soft, almost caring.

Zoey slowly rubbed her face against his leg, craving more moments like these. Maybe it was the lead up to the sex. Maybe it was the unexpected tenderness from such a big, intimidating man. Both she adored. She looked up at him, her eyelashes spiked with recent tears, making her look young and innocent, because she could feel his eyes on her face. She was right. They looked at each other, for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a couple of seconds, and Francis quickly filled the gap between their lips, and kissed Zoey softly. She pulled away, and stood up, and placed herself on his lap, and kissed him harder. Francis moaned, and Zoey could feel herself getting wet. They hadn't had sex for a couple of days. She needed sex, to get the worry out of her mind. There was a strain, a need for it. Francis' hand wandered from her waist to her breast, groping it, and Zoey moaned softly into his ear.

There was a crash in the boat room, and both jumped up, grabbing the nearest weapons, and ran to inspect the damage. "Louis?" they both shouted, as they burst into the room.

"It's fine! A box fell!" Zoey breathed a sigh of relief. "Look, we don't need a lot of stuff, just toiletries and medkits, and such. There's a fuck load of water here, so that's good for now! Also, some matches would be nice."

"Sounds great, but is it just me and kiddo here getting supplies?" Francis asked, a note of almost undetectable fear in his voice, which he hoped they wouldn't pick up on.

"We'll be fine, big guy, we'll do it" Zoey heard it, but was more bothered by her damp underwear, the trip into town.

"I can come too, the leg's strapped up good and proper, Francis" answering Francis' question, and turning to pick up his gun, Louis was optimistic.

Everything would be fine.