29 The Story Behind

Seven days had swiftly passed, and yet not a single thing has disrupted our tedious path. We are currently at the borders of Papua New Guinea, just like we have previously planned. Nine more nights and we'll be able to see the awaited terrains of Hong Kong.

However, not everything will go as planned, and some are ought to create a disaster;

Whether it'll be the man-eating zombies

Mutants and specimens released from the wild

And traitors within our batch.

These are the traits we need to keep an eye out. Then again, it'll be impossible to decipher the futuristic outcomes of such.

Thus, we've left no choice but to move forward.

"Hey, Dione, can you pass me the salt,"

"Sure~"

Both, I and Dione, became friends after the previous incident. She has grown more open about the things that usually the two of us wouldn't spark a conversation. The food that she dislikes, her earlier youth, and even the most prominent fandoms and movies were quite similar to the genres I had watched. We were two peas in the pond, well, that's what I think.

Naturally, not everything would be discussed and conversed with each other. Some of which are probably omitted by our privacy from the stories we have mentioned. But, pushing those trivial thoughts aside, Dionne undoubtedly became one of my quickest and closest friends.

We are presently inside my room playing poker; just the two of us. I had invited Venice over, hoping that we could all play together.

However, she'd said that she didn't want to get involved with these kinds of entertainment and wished to have her early nap during the entire duration of the sail. I respected her decision and moved onwards over Clinton; who was still somewhat isolated from custody about his 'infected' wound, tomorrow being his last day quarantined. The scientist on board stated that his cuts were caused and inflicted by the rotten vines produced by the type-Zx—a higher species of zombies that can latch out vines entangling

"Fleur…There's something that I need to tell you."

~~~~~~Dione's Perspective~~~~~

"I…uh"

"What is it, Dione?"

"Nothing…A royal flush! Beat that!"

"EEEh! I was all in!"

I do hope that these fun times will last before I could even.

It has been a week since the last time I've contacted Grey Turner. Being the son of a well-known scientist like his dad, he was able to establish a firm connection with my step-father, Rogh Fischback. They were both allies in their business realms. Thus the cooperation between the two entities met in a mutual agreement.

I, on the other hand, wanted to return the favour that Rogh had given to me.

I was conceived by my mother yet thrown off far from the shore, placed in a basket, and followed the currents of the wave. I was disliked and unnoticed by my father, condemned by my mother, that I wasn't meant and did not have any purpose in this world.

"I AM NOT AN ACCIDENT!"

Despite the reckless scream, my voice never reached their ear.

Soon after, the tattered wooden basket had slid me to the nearest land it could discover. I perched down on the east coast of Taiwan, in the middle of the sandy beach. There, I stay afloat, not knowing what to do. Fortunately, a large ship sailing from the west spotted my vessel. Faint murmurs could be deciphered from the freckle movements portraying from their mouth. However, their interest in the little basket had been momentarily swayed and left unimportant.

But one of the men hidden in the crowd jumped as high as he could and dived straight in the water, producing a large splash that trembled the whole sea. His vivid image became clearer and clearer as he swam closer to me.

His physique is a bit muscular, similar to a bodyguard of some sort. Thick muscles compounded from his arms, hair that was once waxed and styled bit now drenched in salty tears of the ocean, and bronze-like skin that shielded his body. Those were the characteristics of the beaming man trying to save an infant girl enclosed in a chamber.

The look on his face told me everything. As soon as he stumbles upon the hovering box, his wheezing's became clearer, and the freckles right beneath his forehead could be easily observed and pointed out, stretched from the water.

"What do we have here…a baby?"

There I was, desperately calling for help.

The voices that had been screaming for so long was finally heard by a single person. The look from his eyes wasn't the usual mockery expressed by my parents nor pity, but a gentle smile flashing like lights.

"Pa…pa"

"Papa? No no no, I just got you,"

Confused, he starts giggling from the sudden words that came from my mouth. I too curled my lips as far as I could and reached for his arms.

"Pa…pa'

"Fine. But first, let's get you dry."

He then shifted his body and pushes the box back towards the direction of the still ship. Although his whole body had been trembling from the chill breeze brought by the wind, he kept his pace and ventures forward and aimed for my safety.

As soon as he stepped foot inside, tagging me along, the whole crowd gathered around and formed like a circle, poking their noses to the miracle child Rogh had found.

"A BABY!"

"MY GOODNESS! WHAT SHOULD WE DO?"

"Is it dead? Check the pulse."

Among them were the men painted in dubious expressions, while others were just genuinely flabbergasted from the situation. There were a few instances that the passing ships would encounter similar events where a baby would be thrown off to the nearby sea, abandoned, moreover left behind; mostly found dead.

Peculiarly as it sounds, the ship had abruptly planned to resign on this particular place due to its gorgeous scenery, not to mention its lovely beach. Indeed, I was destined by fate and saved by this kind man, and with that,

I had to do my best.

But, alas

I was still able to remember.

Thirteen years before my middle graduation, I have seen the setting from where I had been born, the conversation I had listened, and the faces I didn't want to meet.

I remember

Every passing memory, every detail from my life, I could easily recognise the events that had happened from the past.

Each night, I would accidentally wake up Rogh, crying in my bed, soaked in tears. And every time I attempt to stop my mischievous acts, my body refuses to obey. No matter how hard I try, no matter how great my efforts could be, I was left speechless, weeping alone with a pillow by my side.

I was insomniac for a week, as I unintendedly reminisce the heart-aches dealt from the past. Eventually, Rogh had to bring me to the nearest psychiatrist. He was silently worrying about my mental health. He was waiting for me to open up for him. But I didn't.

I tried my best in school, earned myself some good grades, and did a lot of part-time jobs during my youth. It was all for Rogh, my stepdad, to ease him from his burdens.

"Dione, have you gotten a good night's sleep yet?"

"No…dad"

"Since when did it start?"

"About a week ago…"

"Come on, honey. We'll bring you to the hospital."

I was hesitant at first. I didn't want to add more expenses taking out from his pocket. I was a freelancer at his house. We were neither wealthy nor exclusive individuals. And yet…

"But, Dad! Spend that money for our viands…or…or…Rice. We're running out with—"

"Your life is more important than the money I'm earning"

My whole body froze from the warm words I have to happen to hear. His expression never changed from the beginning of our conversation. He never raised his voice, unangered by my actions but…saddened that I…wasn't taking care of my body.

He never fails to remind me to eat, be hydrated, and rest if I'm tired; even though he doesn't

He wanted me to buy the clothes and accessories like a normal growing girl, yet he never bought one for himself.

He always…always look out for me and… I wanted to do the same.

"Why—why are you so kind to me?"

The voices in my head congested my hearing. I was unable to perceive, think, and feel. My fingers were slowly trembling from fright, and the follicles of my hair began tingling like antennas searching for a signal.

"It's going to be alright. I'm here"

A warm sensation envelopes my body, as it tightly squeezes my inner organs to its plump. Despite these agitations, I didn't feel pain nor discomfort. It was akin to the pillow I was bracing every night, but this time it was pulsating and warm.

He gently pinches my cheeks and forces his rough fingers to form it a smile.

"I may not know who you are, but I know you, for what you are! It doesn't make any sense nor it will in the future, but…you'll always and forever be my adorable little daughter. I will cherish you…as my own."

"I love you dad"

"I love you too, sweetie"

"We better get moving, Dad"

"Sure…you need that rest now, sweetheart"

And thus, we headed to the nearest clinic.

______________

Nothing much has happened with the psychiatrist we were appointed with. She just gave me few medicine tablets (with its name encrypted on a piece of paper), some recommended diet (including but not limited to milk), and all sorts of stuff like sleeping pills and such.

She also mentioned that I had this syndrome called "hyperthymesia" which enables me to recall the vast majority of personal experiences and events in my life, a superior autobiographical memory.

The stress brought from it allowed me to be restless that had piled my thoughts working during the night when I wanted to calm down.

So, we returned home and hope for the sleeping pills to do its best, and magically it did. I soon woke up the next day and slept for about 20 hours, with my loving father who had been staring weirdly at me, holding out a drenched mop and a bucket of water.

"It's time for chores~"

"NOOOO"—

3 years later … the zombie apocalypse came.

Luckily, when the events had happened, we were on board together with my father's trusty mates who are currently on the ocean transporting some supplies on the neighbourhood's coast of the Philippines. The army was bewildered when they've heard their HQ being infested with the rabid people gnawing their kind.

Upon arriving at the Philippines, we were greeted by numerous men that were so-called 'infected', which seems to be a virus of some sort. Seeing it first hand, our group held back and approached their fellow military men. By the time they had perceived what was about to happen, it was already too late.

"We need to get out here, NOW" Rogh shouted from the tip of his lungs.

Being promoted as the highest marine officer and captain of the exclusive ship, his orders were hastily done and soon hovered the sail…but.

6 people and a dog, from the 'Manila Bay' could be seen running from their lives, waving towards our moving ship. The two military attired men (U.S. uniforms) are armed with heavy rifles and equipment. Alongside their survival, they have brought 4 possible healthy survivors along their way.

If we leave now we might not be able to save them.

"Wait, isn't that…Grey?"