Punks Versus Zombies - episode 28 of the post-apocalyptic zombie survival saga
Welcome to episode 28! In our last episode, the group arrived on the outskirts of Denver to recharge, but Micky's withdrawal made things anything but restful...
The dull scrape of a metal fork against an emptied can signalled the end of another joyless meal. Tommy tossed the stained utensil aside and leaned back against the van’s fender with a weary sigh.
Across the loading bay, Zero shovelled the last few bites of cold baked beans into his mouth. His brow furrowed as he worked his jaw. He set his bowl down and cracked his knuckles. “We doing this supply run into Denver today or what?”
An uneasy silence fell over the group.
Tommy cleared his throat. “Way I see it, we’ve got two choices here. We can poke our heads out and go looking for more trouble. Or—”“
“Or we sit on our asses and rot,” Zero said.
Tommy sighed, rubbing weariness from his eyes. There’d been no rest for Micky through the night—only wave after wave of searing delirium until exhaustion claimed him sometime before dawn.
“We’ve gotta help Micky.” The words felt more like an appeal than a statement of intent as Tommy scanned the haggard faces of his fellow survivors.
Jimbo shrugged, wringing his hands together. “I ain’t saying we shouldn’t. Just…well, maybe we ought to kick this particular brand of trouble down the road a bit, yeah?”
Zero grunted. “Can’t have another night like that one.”
Laila raised her head. “Which is why we need to help him.”
Roxy nodded. “None of you sad sacks seemed to get much shut-eye last night, did you?”
Zero laughed. “That’s an understatement if ever I’ve heard one.”
Jimbo pushed himself upright with obvious effort. “And you think traipsing out into a zombie-infested city with our whole merry band is gonna fix that how exactly?”
“Because while we’re sat here spitting at one another, our boy in there’s only slipping deeper down that black hole.” Roxy glowered at him. “Once the seizures hit, things start getting real bad.” She turned to Tommy. “I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell don’t want to see another friend…” She shook her head. “Not if I can do something about it.”
Zero simply nodded.
Tommy exhaled. His head swam with the same weary doubts as the others—the need to press on versus the abject exhaustion wearing each of them down. “We’re either with Micky till the end or we’re not. Question is, what kind of people do we want to be when it’s all said and done?” He met Zero’s gaze. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not letting him face this hell alone.”
Roxy gave a stiff nod. “Good. Then we’re all squared on getting into Denver and finding some meds for Micky.” She glanced around their ragged circle. “Question is, who wants off the hook for baby-sitting duty?” She jabbed a thumb towards Micky curled on his side. “Gonna need at least one set of eyes here to mind Micky and probably another to stand watch.”
Laila’s shoulders slumped. “I can stay.”
Jimbo drew a breath. “I’ll hang back with Micky. Keep him stable till you lot make it back, maybe bring back some cake, or cookies.”
Tommy made to protest. “Thanks, man.”
“Then let’s quit flapping our gums and get kitted up, yeah?” Roxy stood and brushed off her grimy jeans.
In a flurry of muted activity, the others gathered their things.
Zero pulled his rifle from the van and began checking the action.
Tommy watched as Zero arched an eyebrow at his own bedraggled shotgun leaning nearby.
“You might want me to look over that piece before you load her up,” Zero said. “Wouldn’t want any nasty surprises, do we?”
Tommy frowned. “I don’t intend to use it. And anyway,. I checked it last night…?
Zero grinned. “Last night, huh? Was that during your friend’s sweaty freak out, or after?”
“It’s fine.”
“No, Tommy boy. It’s not. There ain’t nothing worse than a dirty weapon when things go down. One clogged barrel and you go from being in control to being a goddamn liability to everyone around you.”
“It won’t come to that. And stop calling me Tommy boy.”
Zero gave a half smile. “Just let me take a quick look, alright? That way I can rest easy knowing everyone’s packing a smooth-shooter and you can do the same.”
“Alright.” Tommy threw up his hands. “Do what you need to.”
“Thank you, Tommy. Appreciate that.”
Tommy knew next to nothing about proper gun maintenance. But seeing Zero dismantling the shotgun into its component pieces, examining, and cleaning each one in turn, made him want to learn.
Swallowing his pride, he asked for help and Zero obliged without comment.
Zero coached him through brushing out the grit and carbon fouling the breech and firing chamber.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken such care to pass along this kind of basic knowledge. Or when he’d last felt anything other than pure exhaustion and existential dread.
Zero gave Tommy’s shoulder a firm squeeze as they reassembled the refurbished shotgun.
“You’re gonna be okay out there.”
With a faint nod, Tommy thumbed a few shells into the shotgun. “Thanks. Really, man. I owe you one.”
“Don’t mention it.” Zero’s faint smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Just watch my back out there and we’ll call it even.”
A ragged cough echoed behind him. Micky was stirring.
Tommy shouldered his shotgun and moved to check on his friend.
“We’d best get rolling here soon,” Roxy said.
“Yeah. Time to go earn our pay, people.” Zero levelled his rifle, taking point as they moved towards the vans.
“Stay safe, yeah?” Laila said.
Tommy nodded. “I will.”
Jimbo came over and embraced him in a hug. “See you soon, dude. I’ll keep an eye on Micky.”
“Thanks, man.”
Roxy honked her horn and leaned from the window. “Jimbo, you’re on the shutters. Tommy we need to leave.”
“Got you.” He glanced at Micky and took a deep breath. “Be back soon, man.”
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