THE END [[#Wattys2020]]

WEEK 2

Chapter 126: Mother of Pearl

Shannon (The Four Seasons, Kauai, Hawaii)

8:07a.m., December 8th -- 9 days since the silence occurred.

It's day 9 now, and the second of the two ferries sent out failed to return last night. No one is even manning the airport anymore. Though, I suppose, to be fair, there wasn't much reason for staffing that place even 'before' the apocalypse! No one at the marina, either.

The only information we actually did get was that "nothing happened," or rather "nothing happened out of the ordinary". And that was several days ago when the locals came into the bar and questioned a few passengers from the last flight.

Information isn't the mother of pearls right now, though, food is. Not that there's a lack of it, per se, (the hotel seems equipped enough for such occasions and it wasn't fully booked to begin with), rather folks at another lodging, in the middle of the night, in a panic, broke into and cleaned out their hotel's kitchen. Most likely in an effort to stockpile. I guess at least somebody's thinking long term, because it definitely seems like we're going to be here for the longer, rather than the shorter, run.

All that said, we 'were' being well taken care of, considering. Just rumors of such behavior, though, will be enough to cause panic in others and trigger similar pre-emptive preparatory and precautionary, predatory measures across the island. Which will, in turn, lead to tighter rules and more restrictions on the tourists. I wouldn't be surprised if they stationed a cop at the hotel and implemented curfews for us all after this!

Worse case scenario, IF we actually do run out of food, I figure we'd all take up sports fishing! I mean, a tropical island is by far not the worst place one could be for an armageddon... cut off from the zombies, all the fresh fruit, toro and fish you can eat! The locals know how to survive on these islands... they've been doing it for thousands of years before us white people came along and fucked shit up!

On a separate note, Lisa Thatcher, two bungalows down, is 7 months pregnant.

Chapter 127: Fishermen

Bohdan and Sim Lu (Alcatraz)

"I'm a great fisherman. I mean, I live on a peninsula in the Baltic, for God's sake," I said.

"Me, too!" Sim gestured.

We had to go with plan B... The seals, and even the sea lions, were starting to get wise to our tactics, and were going somewhere else to eat. That or they're just preferring to eat their catch at sea, unmolested by the tourists.

Long term water would also have to be investigated; but for now, we hadn't had a decent-sized fish in days. I don't think I've had a full stomach since we arrived here!

I've fished all my life!" I said, matter-of-factly.

"Me too!" The little person responded.

"Well, all we need to do is find a fishing pole, then! And, between the two of us, we should be able to feed every resident on the island!!"

Chapter 128: The Possibilities are Endless

Shannon (The Four Seasons, Kauai, Hawaii)

12:12 a.m., December 10th -- 11 days since the silence occurred.

Being of the curious sort, and finding myself with nothing better to do, this evening, I've decided to add a list of possible doomsday-like causes to my journal... Feasible occurrences that could have transpired that might explain an abrupt halt in intercontinental communications and transportation. Transportation that's designed to travel through all types of weather and conditions, I might add, and possibly the deaths of everybody on the planet, in order from most to least realistic: