We've completely abandoned Stewart Island. Everyone was scared while they were being loaded onto the ships, they looked at me with fear in their eyes. I'm sure they understand why we're leaving, but they're all scared of what's to come.

I am too. But I can't let them see that.

Stewart Island was more than a safe haven, it was a home, we had a good life there and now it's gone. I watched the remnants of our town from the stern of the yacht and remembered my first day there. It was a hot Summers day, and I hadn't slept at all the night before. I was too excited, I hadn't seen so many living people for years.

Now, on this cold winter day, I stand watching my home shrink into the distance. I feel no emotion, I'm too busy concentrating on keeping order in the chaos that was the evacuation.

We make landfall in an hour, the pilots spotted a stretch of coastline that had no sign of zombies on it. The land party will disembark and continue on up the coast on foot. We'll scavenge for supplies all the way and meet up with the flotilla at a later date.

I don't know if I've kept everyone safe from danger, it feels like I've taken them out of the frying pan and thrown them in the fire.