Day 11
"We need to find your other neighbor," Xenia declared, her tone somewhere between a mission commander and a sleep-deprived tour guide. The sun blazed through the treetops as the four of them trudged down the forest trail—Xenia leading, with Rico, Rafe, and Anna following closely behind. Marga had been swapped out for this leg of the journey, thanks to Anna's unshakable faith in Marga's zombie-slaying ability.
"Look, I'm not saying I'm scared," Anna had said earlier that morning, adjusting the sleeves on her borrowed flannel shirt. "I'm just saying Marga once decapitated a zombie with a bamboo pole and didn't even flinch. I think she should be on zombie duty, not jungle trekking."
And that was that. Anna got the slot, Marga got the shore, and Tenorio and Gabriel were back at base installing the final length of fencing. As for Rico, he was already getting a fatherly scolding from Gabriel before they'd even packed their bags.
"You listen to me, son," Gabriel barked, poking Rico in the chest. "I don't want to bury a kid who turned into a walking flesh sponge. Keep your eyes peeled. And no more 'ooh let's split up and explore' nonsense. You're not in a video game."
"I got it, Pa," Rico muttered, adjusting his backpack. "No solo hero stuff. Stick with the group. Avoid becoming zombie bait. Message received."
Now, hiking through the humid forest trail, Xenia turned to Rico. "So tell me about this wild man. You're sure he exists? And more importantly, that he's not already…undead?"
"I believe he's still alive," Rico replied, pushing a branch out of their path. "Last time I saw him—through my drone, back when it still worked—he was alive, healthy, and shirtless in the weirdest way possible."
"Shirtless in the weirdest way?" Rafe raised an eyebrow.
"He was wearing what I think were pants made out of woven palm leaves and duct tape," Rico explained. "Hard to forget."
Xenia blinked. "Right. So, this Wild Man—does he have a name?"
"No idea. People just called him 'Tarzan ng Talinhaga' before the outbreak. His family was rich, but when they came to vacation here a few years ago, he just… stayed. Eventually moved into a treehouse and stopped paying taxes."
"What kind of taxes would he even pay from a treehouse?" Anna asked.
"Emotional ones, probably," Rafe deadpanned.
Rico pointed up toward a gnarled, towering tree. "That's it. His base. And—oh, there he is."
They stopped dead in their tracks. High above them, sitting comfortably on a bamboo perch, was the man himself. Dressed in a mix of torn clothing, palm fibers, and what might've once been a yoga mat, he squinted down at them like a curious monkey observing ground-level tourists.
"Wild Man!" Rico called out, waving. "Can we talk?"
The man swung down with surprising grace, landing on the forest floor like a weathered gymnast. He gave them a smile—surprisingly clean teeth—and asked, in a very normal tone, "Why did you call me?"
Xenia blinked. "You… sound totally sane."
"Yeah," the man said, brushing twigs from his hair. "Contrary to popular belief, living in a tree doesn't come with a complimentary madness package."
"Noted," Xenia said. She quickly launched into her pitch. "So here's the situation—there's a zombie outbreak. Confirmed. You're lucky it hasn't reached you, but it's out there. We've secured land back near the shore, on Gabriel's property, and we're building a community. Safe zone. We're recruiting survivors."
The Wild Man crossed his arms. "Zombies?"
"Dead people. Walkin'. Moanin'. Bitin'. The whole deal," Anna added.
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "I've seen stranger things. So… what do you want from me?"
"We want you to come with us. Be part of our group," Xenia said. "But more specifically, we need help patrolling the shoreline. We lost trust in that area after something washed up."
The Wild Man scratched his beard. "And what do I get?"
"Excuse me?" Xenia asked.
"I'm not saying I don't believe you," he said, "but if I'm going to leave my tree—my sanctuary—I want conditions."
He held up two fingers. "One: I want a house of my own. Doesn't have to be fancy. Just mine. And two: food rations. Daily. Guaranteed. No sharing, no bargaining."
Xenia nodded slowly. "Fine. But I've got one condition for you, too."
"Oh?"
"You'll get the house and food, but only if you commit to the role of shoreline patroller. Sunrise to sunset. We'll rotate others eventually, but for now, we need someone dependable."
The man smirked. "Whether zombies are real or just another chapter in the Book of End Times, I'll agree—so long as the house and rations are consistent."
"They will be," Xenia promised.
"And I get to pick the house color."
"What?"
"I like blue."
Xenia blinked, then shrugged. "Sure. Pick your shade. Just don't turn undead."
He chuckled. "I've got a pretty strong will to live."
"We'll escort you back tomorrow," she added. "Spend the night here if you want, say goodbye to the trees. Starting tomorrow, you're on the team."
The Wild Man nodded, then added, "Tell Gabriel I'm better at climbing than fighting. But I can learn."
"He'll be thrilled," Rico muttered.
As the group turned to head back through the trail, Xenia felt a cautious optimism bloom in her chest. Another recruit. Another watcher on the wall. The community was slowly coming together—even if it included a semi-naked Tarzan with a housing request.
"Guys," she said, grinning, "if we survive this, I'm writing a book. 'How to Lead a Post-Apocalyptic Commune Without Losing Your Sanity.'"
"I'll read it," Anna replied.
"I'll proofread it," Rafe said.
"I'll option it for a movie," Rico added.
And somewhere behind them, Wild Man—now officially a part of their odd, growing tribe—climbed back up his tree one last time, probably imagining his future blue hut and plate of guaranteed beans.
Tomorrow, everything would change again.