Bright white slits appeared in Grace's vision. They grew wider as she slowly blinked open her eyes, squinting in protest at the intensity. She swiveled her head as her eyes cleared, getting a grip on her surroundings.

Grace lay in one of the two makeshift hospital buildings in her village. Both hospital rooms were in some of the most structurally sound buildings in the area. One of them, the one Grace currently was in, was for injuries; the other, sickness.

As Grace's vision fully cleared and she tried to push herself up off of the bed, another figure swooped in and pushed her back.

"Oh, no you don't." Angie stared down at her with a stern look. "You're on bed rest for at least another day."

Grace groaned as she sank back into her pillow. "Come on, Angie, I'm fine. Can't you at least let me go home?"

Angie snorted. "If you were anyone else, I would. But we both know that if I let you out of my sight, you won't be resting."

Angie was right, but Grace had no intention of letting her know that.

"What you are is lucky," Angie continued. "You collapsed from a combination of exhaustion and blood loss. If it had just been the blood loss, you probably wouldn't be here right now."

"How does it look?" Grace asked, brushing her hand across her stomach wound.

Angie pursed her lips. "You got lucky with that, too," she said. "A few centimeters deeper, and you really would have been in trouble."

"Infection?"

Angie shook her head. "I want to keep an eye on it for the next couple of days, but so far you're in the clear."

Grace nodded and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. Maybe a day of rest wouldn't be that bad after all.

"I know you're not asleep, so stop pretending and talk to me."

Grace's eyes snapped open. She had no idea how much time had passed since her conversation with Angie, but the new voice was right. She hadn't been sleeping, exactly, more just lightly dozing."

Tallulah stared down with a disapproving glare.

"Nice to see you, too, Tallulah," Grace grumbled. "I'm fine, by the way."

Tallulah pulled a chair to the edge of Grace's bed and sat down. "Not that I should care," she said sharply, although Grace could hear a hint of relief in her voice. "How stupid can you be, coming into the bar with injuries like that instead of going straight to Angie? It would have been your own fault if you had died."

"I'm sorry, Tallulah." Despite the harsh words, Grace knew her friend was really just scared for her, and Grace couldn't blame her. "I promise to never almost die in your bar again."

"Not funny, Grace," Tallulah said, although a ghost of a smile crossed her face. "Mind you, you scared the crap out of John."

"I think I heard you yelling at him to get help?" Grace questioned.

"He shot out of that chair so fast you would have thought someone had lit him on fire."

"So, what you mean to say, is that you scared the crap out of John," Grace corrected her.

Tallulah thought about it. "I guess I did," she said.

"Then what happened?"

"He saw you on the floor and then ran for Angie. I found where you were bleeding and tried to get it to stop, not that I could do much good. Angie came, John and I carried you here, and then we got shooed out by the doctor. She just came to the bar a little while ago to let me know you had woken up."

"Well, if it helps, I didn't almost bleed to death," Grace offered. "I was just very tired."

"Well, that makes me feel so much better," Tallulah said sarcastically. "You almost died to exhaustion, not blood loss. Everything's fine."

"Oh, shut up."

Silence fell between the two of them, and Grace noticed for the first time that she was in a clean white shirt and white linen pants. Angie must have wrestled her out of her blood crusted clothing at some point while she was unconscious.

"I guess I'm out of one of my shirts," Grace tried to joke. The amount of blood that had stained it had likely rendered it unwearable. But it wasn't actually funny. New clothing meant traveling.

"I'm sure you can pick something up the next time you leave here," Tallulah sighed.

"You're saying you'll let me out of your sight at some point in the near future?"

"If I had it my way, no. But I know there's no stopping you."

Tallulah hated Grace leaving the village on such a frequent basis. But they both knew that if Grace stayed put for long enough, she would go crazy.

"Well, can you at least get me out of here?" Grace asked, glancing around at the hospital room. As glad as Grace was that no one else was with her here, the rows of empty beds creeped her out.

Tallulah sighed. "I'll try," she said. "But Angie takes her job very seriously. And I think she wants to punish you a little bit."

Fair enough. "But if anyone can convince her, it's you," Grace flattered.

Tallulah just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah." She stood up. "I'll talk to her, but if I do get you a release, you better follow her instructions about what you're not allowed to do to the letter, you understand me?"

"Yes, mom," Grace uttered sarcastically. "Thank you, though."

"Uh huh."

Grace relaxed as she watched Tallulah leave the room, off to find Angie.

True to her word, Tallulah turned on her powers of persuasion on Angie and managed to convince the doctor to release Grace the next morning. As Grace changed into the clothes Tallulah brought her, leaving her hospital clothes to be washed and put back into storage, Angie rattled off a list of things that Grace was absolutely not to do for at least the next two days. Most of the restrictions revolved around work.

"Light exercise is fine."

Grace came around the changing curtain to face Angie's stern gaze. "And I mean light, Grace. Not riding your bike, not going for a run. Light. Like, walking. Slowly."

"Angie. I got it." Just because Grace had problems with following instructions didn't mean she didn't understand them.

"Come back in three days, or if anything feels like it's getting worse," Angie instructed. "You'll be able to go back to work on that third day as long as I clear you in the morning."

"Thanks, Angie, really." Grace meant it. "I already do feel a lot better."

Angie snorted. "I should hope so. Now, get going. You're making me anxious just by being here."

Grace laughed but followed the doctor's orders, heading out the main door of the hospital into the sunshine.

Grace felt the warmth wash over her face as she took a deep breath of the fresh sea air. It was good to be home, during the day, and not in a hospital bed. Finally, things felt a bit normal.

Winding her way along the main path through the village, the rest of the residents hurried about their day, doing whatever job they had to keep things running. No one stopped to talk, but most people Grace passed gave her a nod or a small smile. Only about 150 people lived in Seaside, so everyone knew everyone and everything.

It wasn't long before Grace approached her residency and, in trying to obey Angie's instructions, she slowly made her way up the stairs. It wasn't exactly a house. Well, it wasn't a house at all. It used to be a gift shop, but the space that used to hold sea shells, surfboard key chains, and shark tooth necklaces now provided a living space for seven people.

The family lived on the ground floor. Mom, dad, and two teenage sons. The boys went to school during the day, although instead of reading Pride and Prejudice and learning about mitochondria, they learned about tides and construction and farming—much more practical. Setting up a school wouldn't have been the first thing on Grace's agenda, but a married couple who were both schoolteachers lived on the other side of the village, and they were adamant that education continue, apocalypse or no apocalypse.

Their parents worked in the kitchens, like Grace, but whereas Grace worked the dinner shift, they did lunch and breakfast. Grace rarely saw any of them, only at night, and the four of them were usually sleeping by the time she got home.

The upstairs was split into two sections, what was originally two separate storage sections. In the larger section lived a brother and a sister, only 19, a few years younger than Grace. They had arrived about six months back and didn't talk much. No sign of parents or other family, and no one dared ask. Everyone just assumed the worst, and those kinds of assumptions were usually correct.

Grace's entire life was in the smaller of the two spaces. Her "bed"—a camping pad with a few blankets and a pillow on top of it, lay in one corner. She kept her clothes neatly folded on the shelves that once stored boxes of cheap souvenirs. The rest of her things, and there weren't many, remained on the floor.

That's where her pack now sat. Tallulah must have brought it there from the bar. Besides that, Grace had a small box she rarely opened of things from her old life, a book on fishing in the ocean, and a rubik's cube. That was it. Her life.

Grace sighed and sat down on her bed. She opened up her back and grabbed the bag of Oreos. After popping another fourth of a cookie into her mouth, she laid back on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

After about ten minutes, Grace sat back up. She had been lying staring at a ceiling for what felt like ages. She needed to stretch her legs.

Grace took a path that wound around the cliffs and dropped down to the ocean. Hundreds of tourists probably used to hike this path every summer, but now it was empty, waves and the distant yells of the fishing crew the only noise that reached Grace's ears.

Grace lived in the main village, but that was only because she worked there. The crews that worked on the edge of the village, like the fishermen and farmers, lived in structures that had been built since the bombs went off. From her vantage point on the cliffs, Grace could almost see the small community that fishing crew lived in.

Grace wandered her way down to the water, slipped off her shoes, rolled up her pants, and waded in. The sharp cold of the Pacific was slightly painful, but also refreshing on the warm day. After a few minutes, Grace's feet got used to the cold, and she could walk comfortably, digging her toes in the sand.

She enjoyed coming out to this spot. It gave her enough quiet to at least attempt to organize her usually jumbled thoughts. After she completed a job, especially a messy job, it was a good place to clear her head.

When Grace first arrived at Seaside, she thought about her old life when she went down to the beach. More often than not, that led to tears and anger about the mess things had become. But eventually, with a lot of help from Tallulah, Grace stopped. There was no point. The beach had become a much more peaceful place when she began thinking about the present instead of the past.

Grace waved to one of the fishing boats that was passing by. No one waved back, but that was unsurprising. Putting it lightly, steering those boats was difficult. The fishermen were usually given larger helpings at dinner—they needed their strength more than most.

Before she got too far down the coast, Grace stopped herself, remembering her promise to Angie and Tallulah. Even though she was only walking, walking too far would eventually count as strenuous. With a sigh, Grace turned back to go back to her room and rest. If she wanted to get back to work, she would have to convince Angie she was better.

And Grace was determined to go back to work.