Punks Versus Zombies - Ep.46 of the weekly post-apocalyptic survival serial

Welcome to episode 46. In our last episode Tommy and the gang were on the road to Pittsburgh...

The fog hung low over the outskirts of Pittsburgh, a thick, cloying mist that seemed to swallow sound and light.

Tommy sat in the back of the van, his bat gripped tight in his hands. He stared out the blood-splattered window, his eyes scanning the ruined landscape, searching for any sign of movement, any hint of danger.

Beside him, Laila huddled in on herself. She hadn’t spoken in hours, not since the attack at the campsite. Tommy’s gut twisted with worry for her, for all of them.

They’d fought so hard to make it this far. Pittsburgh was the last big hurdle, the final stretch of highway between them and Philly. Between them and home.

But looking out at the desolate streets, the abandoned cars and debris-strewn sidewalks, Tommy couldn’t shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come.

Roxy guided the van down a narrow side street, the buildings pressing in close on either side.

“Take a left up here,” Zero said. “There’s an old service road that should get us around the worst of the congestion.”

Roxy nodded, spinning the wheel. The van lurched and bounced over the uneven pavement, jostling them in their seats.

“We’ve got dead-heads!” Zero said.

Tommy turned to the windshield. Zombies, dozens of them, maybe hundreds, shambled out from between the cars, crawling over hoods and roofs, their faces slack and hungry, their eyes milky white.

Roxy slammed on the brakes, the van skidding to a halt mere inches from the horde. “Where the hell did they come from?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Zero said. “We have to go through them.”

Tommy nodded, adrenaline surging through his veins. He knew this drill. But it never got any easier, never got any less terrifying.

Roxy hit the gas, the van surging forward. They ploughed into the horde, bodies crunching beneath the wheels, gore splattering the windshield.

Tommy and Laila leaned out the windows, their weapons swinging, smashing through skulls and limbs.

But there were too many of them, an endless sea of grasping hands and snapping teeth. They pressed in from all sides, their fingers scrabbling at the doors, at the windows.

“We’re going to get stuck!” Roxy said, her knuckles white on the wheel. “I can’t push through!”

“There!” Zero pointed to a narrow alley, barely wide enough for the van. “Take it, now!”

Roxy wrenched the wheel, the van careening into the alley. They scraped past dumpsters and fire escapes, sparks flying, metal screeching.

Zombies stumbled after them, but the tight confines slowed them down, bought them a few precious seconds.

They burst out onto another street, this one clearer.

Roxy floored it, the engine roaring as they sped away from the horde.

Tommy slumped back in his seat, his heart slamming against his ribs.

He glanced over at Laila, saw the way her hands shook, the way she stared straight ahead, her eyes unseeing. He reached out, laid a hand on her arm. “You okay?”

She flinched at his touch, pulling away. “I’m fine.”

Tommy swallowed, a bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted to push, to make her talk to him, to break through the walls she’d thrown up. But he knew it would only make things worse, only drive her further away.

So he let it go, turning his attention back to the road, back to the city unfolding around them.

They drove in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine, the crunch of debris beneath the tyres.

The streets grew narrower, the buildings taller.

Tommy had been to Pittsburgh before, back when the band first started touring. He remembered the bustling sidewalks, the gleaming storefronts, the noise and the energy and the life.

Now, it was a hollow shell of its former self. The windows were dark and empty. Cars sat abandoned in the middle of the road.

And everywhere, the dead. They wandered the streets in packs, their clothes hanging in tatters, their flesh grey and rotten. They stumbled and lurched, their movements jerky and uncoordinated.

Zero barked out directions to Roxy, guiding her down side streets and back alleys, always staying one step ahead of the hordes.

They took a hard right, the van skidding on the slick pavement.

They approached an old arcade, its neon sign dark and lifeless, its windows boarded over.

Zero made a half-smile. “I used to practically live in this place.”

Roxy slowed the van, glancing over at him. “Yeah?”

Zero nodded. “Every weekend. Before I discovered punk. I’d be in there from open to close, blowing my allowance on tokens.”

Tommy leaned forward. “What games did you play?”

“Everything. But Street Fighter IV was my jam. I got so good with Blanka, nobody could touch me.”

Jimbo chuckled from the back. “Street Fighter was cool, but Dance Dance Revolution was where it was at. I was a beast on those pads.”

“I was more into the classic stuff,” Roxy said. “Pac-Man, Galaga. But I did love me some Time Crisis. Something satisfying about that light gun.”

Tommy nodded. “Guitar Hero for me. Guess that’s not surprising, huh?”

A zombie lurched out from behind a parked car, its arms outstretched, its jaw hanging slack.

Roxy jerked the wheel hard to the left.

The van clipped the zombie, sending it spinning. It hit the ground hard, its skull shattering on the pavement. Black blood sprayed across the asphalt.

Roxy fought for control. She stomped on the brakes, the tyres screaming as they skidded to a stop.

For a moment, no one moved, no one breathed.

Zero shook his head, his eyes hard. “We can’t afford any more distractions. We need to stay focused, stay sharp. One mistake out here, and we’re all dead.”

Roxy eased the van back into gear, steering them down another narrow street, the city stretching on and on.

She guided the van into an underpass, the concrete walls closing in around them. The headlights cut through the gloom, illuminating the road ahead.

As they neared the far end of the tunnel, a mass of zombies blocked the exit.

"Turn us around,” Zero said. “Quick!"

Roxy threw the van into reverse, but as she spun the wheel, Tommy's stomach dropped. More zombies were flooding in from the entrance they'd just passed through.

"We're trapped.” Roxy killed the engine, plunging them into silence.

 The group exchanged worried glances in the dim light.

"What now?" Jimbo asked.

Zero ran a hand through his hair. "We could try to ram our way through. The van's tough, it might make it."

"And if it doesn't?" Tommy said. "We'd be stranded in the middle of that horde with no escape."

Roxy shook her head. "We can't risk damaging the van. It's our only reliable transportation."

They all fell silent for a moment.

"We have to clear a path," Tommy said, his grip tightening on his bat. "It's the only way forward."

"There are so many of them…" Roxy said.

"We don't have a choice," Zero said. "We fight our way out or we die in here."

Roxy nodded. "Alright, let's do this. We'll take the exit ahead—it's a shorter distance to cover."

Tommy burst from the van, falling into a fighting stance.

Roxy raised her machete, her teeth bared in a feral snarl.

Laila remained frozen, her tyre iron at her side.

“Laila!” Tommy shouted. “Laila, stay with me!”

But she remained rooted, her stare blank.

The zombies closed the gap, all grasping hands, and gnashing teeth.

Tommy’s bat collided with rotting flesh, bone splintering beneath the impact. He kicked another aside, pivoted, smashed the skull of a third.

A hand seized Tommy’s shoulder, dragging him backwards. He buckled, twisting to ram his elbow into the zombie’s chest. The grip slackened and he caved in the creature’s head.

He turned just in time to see a zombie lunge for Laila. She stood immobile, paralysed.

“No!” Tommy threw himself forward, his bat whooshing through the air. It struck the zombie’s temple. Blood splattered across Tommy’s face, hot and sticky.

Laila stared up at him, her eyes wide, brimming with tears.

Behind them, Jimbo cried out. Tommy spun to see him grappling with a zombie, its teeth snapping inches from his throat.

Roxy was there, her machete severing the creature’s spine. It flopped to the ground, twitching.

And then, silence.

The fight was over as abruptly as it had begun.

Tommy stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving, his skin crawling.

He turned to Laila, crouching down beside her. “Hey, you alright?”

She looked up at him, blinking slowly.

She opened her mouth, closed it again.

Finally, she gave a small, jerky nod.

Zero stalked the perimeter, his rifle up, his eyes scanning the shadows.

Jimbo approached, laying a hand on his shoulder. “We should get moving, dude. We don’t want to get trapped down here.”

Zero whirled on him, his face contorted. “You think I don’t know that? I know this city better than anyone. I’ll decide when it’s time to move.”

Jimbo held up his hands, taking a step back. “Whoa, easy. I was just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Tommy stepped between them, his hands up. “Alright, let’s all just take a breath. We’re all on edge, all running on fumes. But we can’t turn on each other, not now.”

Zero glared at him for a long moment, then looked away. His hands were trembling, his knuckles white around the grip of his rifle. “Whatever, Tommy boy.”

Roxy climbed back in the van. “Come on. We don’t have time for macho posturing. Let’s get moving.”

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