crack in resolve and the last thing they needed was a screaming lunatic drawing attention to their position. Each of them are eerily quiet though. Perfectly stable in relative terms and he watches Brian approach Moe to talk. The old man tries keep the volume of his voice low so his wife can’t hear him: We can’t stay on this roof. We have to get somewhere safer.
Moe: I agree, our plan is to get to one of the islands and hold our ground there. I doubt any of the freaks know how to swim.
Brian: An island? Yeah maybe, it’s worth a shot. I have a boat.
Moe: Yeah us too. You have your keys?
Brian: Yeah, it’s docked at the pier. The white and blue one. It’s not that big but it could take us all easily.