So, an estimated three weeks after I had seen anyone else, I was sitting in the conservatory of the pub looking out across the sea. The morning sun was glistening in the water, bouncing off the ripples of the waves as they crashed against the harbor across the way. Accompanying my morning whiskey I tucked into a bowl of dry, milk-less cereal and I squinted my eyes as I noticed something off in the distance. My bowl escaped my hands, smashing into pieces as it hit the floor by my feet. I shuffled toward the window and pressed my face against the glass with a new found fear commandeering my stomach.
As I looked across the calm waves of the ocean I could see a figure moving in the water out towards the horizon. It was a zombie. And it was swimming.