The waves lapped at the shore, a rhythmic, gentle sound that did little to soothe the pounding in my head.

I opened my eyes with a groan, blinking against the bright sunlight reflecting off the sand. A sharp pain shot through my temple and I lifted a hand to find the source, hissing as my fingers probed a deep gash along my hairline. My vision swam and I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to vomit.

How did I end up here? The last thing I remembered was boarding the ferry for my business trip. After that, everything went blank.

"Easy now." A man's voice, laced with an unfamiliar accent. "You've had quite a nasty fall."

I forced my eyes open again and squinted up at the stranger kneeling beside me. He was young, maybe only a few years older than myself, with a kind face and intelligent eyes. "W-what happened?" I rasped, my throat burning with the effort.

"I was hoping you could tell me," he said. "I found you washed up on the shore. It looks like you were caught in that storm last night." He nodded towards the churning sea, flecked with whitecaps as far as the eye could see. "The winds were fierce. Your ferry must have capsized."

A ferry capsizing. That would explain the gap in my memory and how I ended up battered and bruised on this deserted beach. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief my mind hadn't gone completely.

The young man frowned at my wound, brows knitting together in concern. "This needs stitches. I'm Mark, by the way, a medical student. If you'll allow me, I can patch you up and we'll figure out where to go from there."

I eyed him warily, still dazed from my ordeal, but he seemed genuinely wanting to help. I had little choice but to trust him.

"Lucy," I said. "Lucy Chen."

Mark smiled. "A pleasure to meet you, Lucy, despite the circumstances. Now, if I may?" He lifted a leather satchel, producing a needle and thread.

I gritted my teeth and nodded. What else could go wrong? Little did I know our troubles were only just beginning.

Mark worked quickly and efficiently, his stitches neat and precise. I had to admire his composure under pressure. When finished, he bandaged the wound and sat back on his heels.

"There," he said. "That should hold until we can get you proper medical attention."

"Thank you." I met his gaze. "Have you heard anything about a zombie outbreak on this island?"

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Zombies? No, there's been no news of anything like that. Why do you ask?"

I hesitated, wondering if I should warn him. But if the outbreak was real, we were in danger either way. "I was here on business when things went awry at the research facility. Test subjects broke free and began attacking people."

Mark's brow furrowed. "That can't be right. I haven't seen any signs of zombies or heard any emergency broadcasts."

"The facility is remote," I said. "They cut communications to avoid a panic. We have to get off this island before it's overrun."

"I'm afraid I don't believe in zombies, Ms. Chen." His tone was polite but firm. "This seems to be a figment of your imagination. Perhaps you hit your head harder than I realized."

I ground my teeth in frustration, fighting back a sharp retort. Of course he wouldn't believe until he saw the horde for himself. My pragmatic side knew further argument was pointless; if we encountered any zombies, the truth would become apparent soon enough.

All I could do was brace myself for the long night ahead. The dead were coming, whether Mark chose to believe or not.

The sun crept lower on the horizon, shadows lengthening across the beach. I kept watch while Mark tended to my injuries, dabbing antiseptic on the gash in my forehead and bandaging it with strips of cloth torn from his shirt.

After some time, Mark stood and gazed out at the rolling surf. "There's been no sign of zombies yet. Perhaps we should-"

His words were cut off by a ragged cry. We spun to see a man staggering onto the beach, clutching his bloodied arm. Mark rushed to help him, catching the stranger as he collapsed.

"Shark attack," the man gasped. "Bit me...hurts..."

Mark examined the wound. "This isn't from a shark. The edges are jagged, not clean like a shark bite would be." He looked up at me with dawning horror. "Zombies?"

I nodded grimly. Even from a distance, I could see the telltale signs of infection in the stranger's pallid skin and glassy eyes. "I'm afraid so."

The man let out a ghastly moan, thrashing against Mark's grip. I grabbed a large stick, holding it at the ready as the stranger's face contorted into a snarl. He lunged for Mark, teeth bared, and I swung with all my might. There was a sickening crunch as the stick connected, and the zombie went limp.

Mark stared at the body, stunned into silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was hushed with disbelief. "You were telling the truth. The dead walk here."

I sighed, a knot of tension easing in my chest now that he understood the danger. "And there will be more. We should find shelter before nightfall."

Mark nodded grimly, rising to his feet. "Lead the way." At last we had an ally in this fight for survival. The long night ahead seemed less bleak with two to face the dark.

We dragged the zombie's body into the jungle, not wanting to attract more of the infected. As we walked, Mark kept glancing over his shoulder, as if expecting the corpse to reanimate and give chase.

"How did this happen?" he asked, voice taut with apprehension. "I've heard of nothing like this. How can the dead rise?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "All I know is that we're not safe here. We need to find shelter, food, and weapons to defend ourselves."

Mark nodded, ever the pragmatist. "Shelter first. We'll need a defensible position in case of attack." His eyes scanned the dense foliage, analyzing our surroundings with a doctor's clinical eye. "There, that rocky outcrop. It's elevated, with few approaches for the infected to ambush us. If we can barricade the entrance, it may serve well as a temporary refuge."

"Good eye," I said, impressed by his quick thinking. "Let's check it out."

We climbed up to the outcrop, finding a shallow cave that opened out onto the cliff face. "This will do," I said, relieved we had gained some high ground. The cave was small, but would shield us from the elements and any roaming eyes in the dark.

Mark began gathering branches to block the entrance. "We should scout the area before nightfall, look for food, water, and anything that can serve as a weapon. I don't fancy facing those creatures unarmed."

I couldn't help but smile, despite our grim circumstances. "You're taking well to this survival business," I noted.

Mark snorted. "What choice do I have? Adapt or die. I prefer the former." He secured another branch in place, glancing at me with a wry grin. "Besides, I have a capable teacher in you, it seems."

I clapped him on the shoulder, glad I had found an ally in this place of death. "And you have a willing student in me. Now, shall we go scavenging before dark?"

Mark nodded, eyes glinting with determination. "The dead can wait. Our survival cannot."

We ventured out from our makeshift shelter as the sun began to dip towards the horizon. The island was eerily quiet, as if the zombies were lying in wait for nightfall. An unnatural stillness had settled over the jungle, the usual sounds of wildlife conspicuously absent.

Mark and I moved slowly but deliberately along the beach, searching for anything useful that may have washed ashore. "There," Mark said, pointing to a large trunk that had lodged itself in the sand. "We may find supplies in there."

We dragged the heavy chest onto the beach, prying it open to reveal a treasure trove of goods. "Blankets, clothes, rope, a knife, water bottles," I listed, handing items to Mark. "This must have come from a ship."

"Or what's left of one," Mark said grimly. "Judging by the damage, it doesn't appear the passengers fared well in the storm." He picked up a water bottle, shaking it. "At least the contents seem intact. We won't go thirsty tonight."

I pulled a wool blanket from the trunk, glancing at the darkening sky. Nightfall was fast approaching, and we had a long journey back to our cave. "We should head back," I said. "I have a feeling the dead are more active in the dark."

Mark nodded, gathering our newfound supplies. "I'd rather not run into them in the jungle. Let's go."

We hurried back to the cave and secured the entrance, grateful for the shelter and provisions that would keep us alive for another day in this forsaken place. But our reprieve would be short-lived. The dead were out there, waiting to feast, and dawn would bring a new wave of terrors along with the rising sun. Our fight for survival had only just begun.