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shore were interrupted by the rolling beat of the waves that washed over my face and stung my eyes.
    My stomach clenched, then convulsed. My abdomen quaked in pain. There was no way I could keep swimming. The seizures in my belly didn’t stop and I vomited up bile and blood. I let myself fall below the waves to get away from the puke. I considered giving up and letting myself sink to the bottom.
    I thought about Laura. Before, when I imagined my girls, I recalled several moments I shared with them. But with Laura, I thought of just one. I thought about the look on her face the moment she said, “I do.”
    I was a nervous wreck at our wedding. I’ve never been a very competent public speaker and standing in front of people was always uncomfortable for me. I was all but useless on our wedding day. My hands shook, my legs trembled, and it seemed like a monumental task to repeat the words the judge spoke.
    I thought about the moment I slipped Laura’s wedding band onto her finger. I thought about looking into her eyes. I thought about the smile, tender and sweet, that she gave me in that moment. She was calm, content, and perfect in every way a woman could ever possibly be.
    Memories of Laura gave me the strength to keep swimming. Her beautiful smile could carry me home.
    I reached the shore of Hailey Bay after having used every last ounce of willpower in me. I clawed at the rocky shore and dragged myself away from the waves, past the broken pieces of debris that had washed up before me. I collapsed beside a pile of rotted seaweed with my face pressed into the decaying pillow. I closed my eyes for what I thought was a second.
     
    “This one,” said a man's voice above me.
    I felt a boot kick my cheek and I opened my eyes. A man wearing black rubber boots stood above and pointed at me. He motioned for someone nearby to come to him. I saw another man, much younger and also wearing black boots and a yellow poncho, walk over to us. He raised a wooden oar high into the air and then brought it down fast, the edge of the fat end aimed at my face.
    “No!” I said and raised my arm in time to block the oar. The force of the strike crashed into my left forearm. I bellowed in agony.
    “Oh shit,” said the man with the oar. “He’s not dead.”
    “Can they talk?” asked the one that found me.
    “I don’t think so."
    I moaned in pain and rolled around on the rocks.
    “Oh shit, buddy, sorry. I thought you were dead,” said the bearded man that had kicked me in the face moments ze=earlier. He helped me to my feet and then let go, whereupon I swiftly fell back down. My swim through Hailey Bay had sapped me and standing wasn’t an option.
    The two fishermen raised me up and the bearded one wrapped my arm around his shoulder to help me walk along the shore. To be honest, he carried me as my legs shifted uselessly beneath. We made it to a wooden dock where he set me down.
    “You okay?” asked the younger man.
    “No I’m not okay.” I spoke through clenched teeth.
    “Hey man, I’m sorry, but I thought you were dead.”
    “If you thought I was dead, why the hell were you going to bash my head in?”
    “How else was I supposed to kill you?” asked my assailant.
    I looked up at them as if they had started speaking in tongues. “What the fuck does that mean?”
    “Don’t you know what’s happening?” asked the older one.
    “I was in the city. I saw what's happening. Still doesn’t explain why you were trying to bash the brains out of someone you thought was dead.”
    “Then you don’t know what’s happening,” said the kid.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Zombie apocalypse." The young man set his oar on his shoulder and smiled down at me.
    “I know it sounds insane,” said the older one. “But Billy’s right. I wouldn’t have believed it either, but I saw it with my own eyes. Bodies came washing up on shore, then stood right up and started trying to eat people. Worse damned thing I’ve ever seen in all my life.