The world has started to be overrun by zombies. Can't trust anyone, not even yourself. The only thing left to do is survive.

The two males stare at the tiny black silhouette of the ship leaving the island. One of them sighs, turning away and crouching down on the ground. The other one follows suit, shifting uncomfortably so that the sand of the beach doesn't get anywhere. "Well, we have to survive here, don't we?" "Well," the other mimicks jokingly, "What can we do?"   From prompt: