Now that there are three of us on the island shooting the crazies, plus the mysterious stranger on the approaching boat, the crazies begin to fall more quickly. Soon there’s only a handful left, the ones that were clever enough to take cover behind walls and trees. Ryan stalks over to one, seemingly without any recognition of the danger he’s in by exposing himself, and fires at the crazy, killing him at point-blank range.

With Ryan on his murderous rampage and Zeke covering him, I decide to help out Molly. I can hear her gun firing as she tries to kill the crazies taking away Emmanuel, and every time she pauses to lock and load, she curses, and I know she’s having no luck. I race to her side but it’s no use. Our boat and Emmanuel are far away. There’s no chance of rescuing them now.

Suddenly, the sound of gunfire ceases. I glance behind me and realize that Ryan has shot the last of the crazies. We did it. But we lost Emmanuel and our boat containing all our supplies. It hardly feels like a victory.

For the first time, I let myself fully look at the other boat, the one with the strangers who were helping us. It’s a boat just like the one we’d just lost, but smaller. A sailboat, its small engine is nonetheless whining as it’s being driven like a motorboat. Even in the gloomy moonlight, and obscured by the sheet of pelting rain, I can tell that they are not strangers at all. The three figures on the boat are in fact so recognizable to me as to be family.

It’s Bree, Charlie, and, holding the gun, the gun that saved my life twice in the last five minutes, Ben.

*

I stare at them as if I’ve seen a ghost. The small boat reaches the jetty and Jack bounds over. Penelope leaps ashore and the two dogs race around in circles, happy to be reunited.

The rest of us just stand completely still, too shocked to move.

“Is that…” Molly begins.

“Yes,” I reply.

Suddenly, I find my feet. I race toward them full speed through the squelchy mud, not caring about it splattering all over my clothes. When I reach them, the kids grab hold of me and pull me into an embrace. I’m filled with relief.

“Bree,” I stammer, staring into my sister’s face cupped between my hands. “You came.”

She nods. “I’m sorry. I should never have let you go like that. Without saying goodbye.”

“Shh,” I say, hushing her. “No sorries. If anyone’s sorry it should be me. We’re together now, and that’s all that matters.”

I pull her into my arms again and hold on tightly, while Charlie’s arms circle tightly around my waist.

“You’re bleeding, Brooke,” he says, sounding worried for me.