Chapter 2. Fish

The wood cracked when my bolt flew into the wall, mere inches away from some random guy's head. If he hadn't hit my elbow with the handle of his sword when the door opened, he'd have been dead.

For a moment I felt like I was staring in a mirror, our expressions identical in their mixture of surprise and confusion. I lowered my bow, not really having anything to shoot with anymore. The stranger sheathed his weapon as well, letting go of the handle as I walked past him and retrieved my arrow.

"Great." I griped when I realized the arrow tip had broken off. I tossed the piece aside and slipped the left-over shaft into the bolt case strung from my back. After putting some distance between myself and the rando, I proceeded to cock my weapon.

"Hey, wait up." He called, following me out of the dressing area. "Don't talk to me." I retorted as the satisfying click assured me I'd reloaded right. "What? you're the one who burst into my dressing room without knocking! You could at least apologize." He protested.

I rested the bow against my shoulder and turned towards him. "I don't owe you shit. Plus you might wanna finish what you were doing there before demanding things tough guy." I retorted, pushing past him. He looked down at his torso, having forgotten that he was shirtless.

"Who the fuck uses a dressing room in a zombie apocalypse?" I muttered to myself as I made my way out of the store and down the street that lead to the pier. Hadn't he heard the beware of bathrooms and enclosed spaces rule?

"Hold up!" The stranger called as he walked briskly behind me, intent on catching up. His light blue button-up was untucked and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He wore a pair of dark jeans and some fucking dressy shoes.

I didn't pay him any mind, instead focusing on stringing my fishing rod and baiting the hook I'd use to catch my dinner. I made my way down the walkway, the floorboards creaking under my weight with each step.

Fortunately, there weren't too many zombos on the pier. Though there were quite a few in the water below that had fallen over the railing. They looked creepier all bloated and soggy.

I walked all the way to the end of the pier and took a seat on a bench that faced the ocean. I placed my pack between my feet and my bow against the bench beside me; bolt pointing up, just in case.

I swapped out the batteries in my disk player, along with the album slipping SOTD back in its case Before tucking it in my bag. After casting the line, I leaned back and relaxed.

"Can you at least tell me where I'm supposed to go?" The stranger asked, standing a few feet behind me. I exhaled loudly, releasing the smoke from my disposable.

"Do I look like a fuckin map to you?" I shot back, the irritation clear in my tone. He grimaced, his gaze focusing on the floorboards as he turned around. "Fine. Whatever then." He huffed before retreating and making his way off the pier. "Finally, some fucking silence." I sighed as I slipped on my headphones and stared out at the rippling water.

That night, after I'd caught something sizable, I deboned and speared it with some metal skewers I carried. I left it smoking over the bonfire as I went to freshen up.

The water from the guest showers was freezing, but clean. I managed to ignore the goosebumps that formed on my skin. It felt so good to be clean. Once I'd finished, I made my way back to the crackling fire, a towel in hand as I dried my damp hair. I furrowed my brows when I heard sounds of a struggle.

I tensed and reached for my bow, ready to shoot but my eyes landed on the familiar figure in the distance. The guy from before stood about a fourth of a mile away, trying to set up a beach canopy beside one of the lifeguard towers.

I watched him curiously as I took one of the fishes from the flame and blew on it to cool it off. I snickered when the canopy legs loosened beneath the wind's pull. "Hey, no. Stop!" He screamed as the breeze began carrying the tent away. He took off after the rolling frame, cursing when it landed in the water.

I stifled a laugh as he rolled up his pant legs and waded into the ocean. I watched him as I ate, his attempts to fish the canopy out were comical to me. He took off running, trying to avoid the giant wave that rose and rolled towards him. "Oh shit!" He wasn't fast enough.

I burst out laughing when the icy wall of water knocked him down and dragged him, depositing him back on the shore completely drenched and covered in sand. He furrowed his brows and turned to glare in my direction when he noticed me laughing at his expense. Without a word, he grabbed his bag and stormed off the sand defeated, making his way toward the public showers.

My fire was already burning out by the time he returned. I was smoking, and nearly done with the joint. My gaze followed the stranger's movements as he unrolled a sleeping bag and crawled inside, leaving only the top of his dark hair visible.
I scoffed and snuffed out the roach before tossing a bucket of sea water on the remaining bonfire embers.

The following morning was ushered in by the cawing of hungry seagulls and the distressed screams of the stranger from the day before. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the sun's brightness. I used my hand as a visor and sat up with a groan, my back stiff from sleeping on the floor of the guard tower.

"Get away you flying fucks! That's my food!" I could hear him screaming. I peeked out from the tower window and watched as he swung his blade around in the air like some maniac, trying to down the birds that had stolen his bag of breakfast chips.

"I highly doubt that's gonna work." I called out as I stood by the tower entrance and stretched. He glared in my direction, wrinkling his nose when he saw me. "Fuck off. This isn't any of your business." He griped as he lowered his blade in defeat.

"You're right, it isn't." I agreed, a  boisterous yawn rolling through me a second after.

After gathering all my stuff, I draped the duffle strap over my shoulder and made my way down the wooden stairs. The stranger had turned his sights back to the sky where the seagulls had torn their steal to shreds, littering the sand around him with crumbs.

I glanced down at the smoked fish I'd wrapped in newspaper the night before. I had intended on having it for lunch but at that moment, it seemed like he needed it more. So for my first humane act since the apocalypse began, I walked over and held it out for him to take. "Just make sure to eat it by tonight or it'll go bad." I instructed.

He took a weary step back and stared at the wrapped meal as if it would explode. "Take it. It's not gonna bite." A few seconds passed and the sound of crashing waves   filled the air. After a few seconds of hesitation, he cautiously took the fish. "Thanks..." he muttered skeptically. "No problem. I hate fish anyway." I admitted before shifting my bag and turning to walk away. "Don't get killed." I called back with a dismissive wave as I made my way off the beach.