I have a nice ocean view, looking out from my cliff-top dwelling. It used to run in the neighborhood of a mill and a half, back when money still mattered. The real estate agent even told me that a minor celebrity from the 40s owned it once.
I’ve got that marvelous storage space, enough food to last me several years.
The ocean of zombies roaming around down on the beach can’t get up to me. Not after I cut the only access, the suspension bridge, from this end.
But I am running terribly short on shells for the sniper rifle.