Get to the boat, you said.
Get to the boat and everything will be fine, we'll be well-supplied to wait it out offshore: there's a de-salinator and fishing rods for when the canned food and bottled water runs out; there's a flare gun and a marine radio; there's the non-stop entertainment of zombies wading out thigh-deep against the tide and getting first confused and then knocked over. We thought: you're right, that's a good plan, that's a better plan than hiding in basements and getting surrounded and possibly eaten.
That was a hundred days ago. A hundred long, sea-sick days.