Day 12
Building the Wild Man's house was now top priority—not out of love, but out of fear. Fear that if they built it too close to the sea, they'd be rebuilding it every other week because Wild Man refuses to sleep somewhere that "smells like seaweed's ex-girlfriend."
"Put it near the shore," Xenia instructed. "But not too close. I don't want him coming back and blaming us when a crab steals his underwear."
Yesterday evening had been an experiment in sardine-style living. Everyone tried to squeeze inside Gabriel's cabin, and it was… how should we put this? A human Tetris game with no winners. Tenorio almost suffocated under a pile of legs, someone's armpit became public property, and Rico woke up spooning a chair.
"No one's dead, so that's a win," Xenia muttered, sipping her makeshift coffee made from roasted corn husks and tears.
Clearly, they needed more space.
Xenia, ever the overthinker (a.k.a. zombie apocalypse architect), decided to abandon the "one house per person" plan. It sounded great until she realized they didn't have enough wood to build even one luxury mansion, let alone ten. But then it hit her—bunk beds. Glorious, cramped, cost-efficient bunk beds!
She remembered her college apartment days with her best friend Zoe. Zoe used to sleep on the top bunk and throw popcorn at Xenia when she snored. Ah, memories. Wherever you are, Zoe, I hope you're not being eaten by zombies... or men.
At dinner that night (a fine selection of grilled eggplant and something suspiciously chewy they refused to identify), she pitched the idea.
"Instead of giving everyone a private house," Xenia said, dramatically stabbing her fork into the mystery meat, "we bunk up."
There was a pause. Then nodding. Then groaning. But mostly nodding.
Rico looked excited—he was going to share a bunk with Rafe. Rafe looked less excited. Actually, he looked like he just swallowed a live lizard.
"I don't snore," Rico said proudly.
"You snore feelings," Rafe replied darkly.
Brie announced she was bunking with Marga because "besties don't let besties sleep alone during the apocalypse," and Marga shrugged like she had accepted her fate years ago.
Since Gabriel's cabin only had three rooms and one toilet (which had been dubbed "The Throne of Patience"), things needed serious expansion. But at least no one was complaining—yet. That was probably because everyone was too busy chewing, fixing, or napping on each other's shoulders.
The construction plan was simple-ish:
All the men (minus Rafe and Rico) would work on building a second floor to Gabriel's cabin.
Rafe and Rico—now dubbed the "Architects of the Wild"—were in charge of building Wild Man's home. Why? Because Wild Man said, and I quote: "I want my walls to whisper rebellion."
Meanwhile, Xenia had a clipboard, a pencil behind her ear, and the energy of a caffeine-fueled ant queen. She patrolled the area making sure nobody was hammering their thumbs and that no one tried to decorate with leaves again (looking at you, Brie).
Anna, who had entered Full Mother Hen Mode, stayed inside with Irah and Cecil. Irah was knitting like it was a competitive sport—tiny sweaters, oddly shaped scarves, and what may or may not have been a sock for a duck. Cecil, meanwhile, was gathering materials from the newly built baby-farm, proudly marching back and forth with arms full of banana leaves and triumphant dirt on her cheeks.
"Are we growing tomatoes or goblins out there?" Rafe asked when he saw a mutant-sized squash on her back.
"Don't disrespect my squash," Marga said.
Anna had also started repurposing some of Irah's older weaving for curtains, decorative wall hangings, and—against Xenia's protest—a crochet toilet paper holder shaped like a bunny. It was hideous. But it gave the cabin character.
Despite the hammering, sawing, and a near-death experience involving Tenorio almost falling through the new ceiling, things were moving smoothly. That is, until Wild Man showed up with a stick and started "blessing" his future home.
"Uh… what are you doing?" Rico asked as Wild Man danced around the foundation in torn pants and seaweed tied to his ankles.
"Protecting it from cursed termites," he whispered. "They whisper insults."
Rico blinked. "Okay, man. Cool."
By midday, Xenia was covered in sawdust, sunburn, and regret, but the Wild Man's hut had walls, a roof (kind of), and a coconut shell doorknob.
"What's this made of?" Rafe asked, knocking on the doorframe.
"Optimism and leftover bamboo," Rico grinned.
The second floor of the main cabin was also halfway done. Brie and Marga were already measuring their room with sticks and arguing over who gets top bunk. Tenorio kept trying to claim an entire section for his "meditation zone," and Gabriel had started carving a sign that said "No Whining Past 8 PM".
Xenia stood back, admiring the chaos. It was loud. It was exhausting. It was a little bit insane.
But it was working.
She smiled, then yelled at Rico for nailing a plank backwards.
And somewhere in the distance, a bird cried out in confusion, because it had just witnessed the first step of civilization in a zombie apocalypse—housing.
Wild Man stood in front of his newly constructed hut near the shore, arms crossed, glaring at his roof like it had personally offended him.
Xenia, still holding a hammer and sweating from helping with the second-floor support beams at Gabriel's cabin, didn't even get a chance to sip her lukewarm herbal tea when Wild Man stomped up the hill like a drama storm in sandals made of tree bark.
"XENIA!" he called, dragging out her name like a judge calling someone to court.
She sighed. "Oh no. What now?"
Wild Man approached, pointing dramatically at the roof of his hut. "Why is my house made out of banana leaves and not metal sheets like Gabriel's cabin?! And why is it the color of dead grass instead of ocean blue, which I specifically hinted at through interpretive dance yesterday?"
Xenia raised a brow. "You want a metal roof?"
"Yes. And a splash of personality. Right now, it looks like a depressed bird's nest."
Xenia dropped her hammer, wiped her face with a rag, and crossed her arms. "Let me get this straight. You want us to drag heavy metal roofing from Gabriel's cabin, which is half a mile uphill, through mud and coconut roots, just so your hut can be a luxury resort?"
Wild Man hesitated. "Uh… yes?"
"You do realize," Xenia continued, eyes narrowing, "that if we use metal, your house will cook you alive under the sun. You'll be a roasted Wild Man. Crispy. Medium-well."
"…Oh."
"And you want color? We don't have time to paint! We barely have time to eat! Brie just had lunch at 3PM and it was a boiled potato with anxiety."
Wild Man scratched his beard. "I suppose…"
"And do you know who would carry that metal roof? Rafe and Rico. And Rafe already threatened to stab someone with a screwdriver today because of bunk bed politics."
There was a long silence. The wind rustled the palm trees. Somewhere, a crab sneezed.
"…Okay," Wild Man said slowly. "Banana leaves are… earthy. I like earthy. Natural insulation."
"Good," Xenia said, smirking. "And if you behave, maybe next week you can get a coconut wind chime."
Wild Man raised a finger to protest, then lowered it in defeat. "Fine. But I want two wind chimes."
"Deal. Now go patrol the shore before the tide steals your sandals again."
He left, muttering about aesthetics and the oppression of minimalist architecture.
Xenia shook her head. "I survived college roommates. You think you scare me?"