Who is the lawyer? This is the last resort. It's the apocalypse. Folks have mainly all died. But the ones who are left found this resort on an otherwise deserted island and are hunkered down here. It's got solar energy, a desalinization plant, a decent assortment of canned goods and a nice garden. We keep running into issues with some folks declaring themselves warlords and kinda messing things up for the rest of us. We need a lawyer who can make enough bureaucratic nonsense that those folks FEEL like they can make a difference by banging their heads against the red tape (I do like mixing metaphors), and leave us alone enough to plant veggies, harvest veggies, and swim for fun. Some of us fish, too, but it's not like we're going to travel far from shore.
There are some out there that think we need to be more vigilant. I mean these warlordy types, and they keep trying to make all of us stay up sleeplessly. They think the zombies will walk along the ocean floor to find us, but that's ridiculous. I'm not just being silly and naive. Even if the zombies, like, were instinctively drawn to us, the pressure at the bottom of ocean would smush their brains in the way that we know stops them.
Oh no. They're floating onto shore. You might think that's a worry. Don't worry. A) the currents aren't like that. B) these zombies sink. C) we have nets to catch any uncommonly buoyant who accidentally caught a breeze. The only things that can get us, zombie-wise, is 1. a breakdown in our internal order, like an unsupervised death. or 2. parachuting zombies.
And at some point you just gotta take your chances. I think we're all more likely to die from stress-related heart disease than parachuting zombies, so you gotta just keep on keepin' on.