Punks Versus Zombies - episode 33 of the post-apocalyptic zombie serial
Welcome to episode 33. In our last episode, Tommy and the gang found themselves at a golf course, but there wasn't time for a round...
Tommy tugged a fresh t-shirt over his head, the soft fabric a welcome relief after the sweat-soaked, gore-splattered mess he’d been wearing. Beside him, Micky did the same, his movements stiff and pained as he struggled into a clean top.
In the front seat, Roxy shimmied out of her ruined polo shirt, balling it up and chucking it out the window. She adjusted the brim of her golf hat. “Well, at least this beauty survived unscathed. Reckon it’s my new lucky charm.”
Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, we could use a bit more of that luck thing right about now..”
Zero glanced at them in the rearview mirror, his hands steady on the wheel as he guided the van down the empty highway. “I don’t know, Tommy. After that little stunt you pulled back there, I’d say you’re pushing whatever luck reserves we’ve got left.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
Jimbo leaned forward. “Dude, I’m telling you, when all this is over, I’m moving to Florida. Gonna join one of those retirement communities and spend my days cruising around on a golf cart. No more running, no more fighting. Just me, the open road, and a never-ending supply of prune juice.”
Laughter filled the van, the tension of the past few hours melting away.
“Sounds thrilling,” Laila said. “Just don’t come crying to us when the zombies invade your little slice of geriatric paradise.”
Micky huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, laugh it up. We almost died back there and you’re making stupid jokes about golf carts…”
Tommy glanced at Micky, taking in the tight set of his jaw and the dark circles under his eyes. “Come on, Mick. You’ve got to admit, it was a bit funny. Especially when I nailed that one zombie right between the eyes with a golf ball.”
Micky’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face. “Yeah, alright. That was pretty sick. But we could have died back there, Tommy.”
“But we didn’t,” Roxy said, twisting around in her seat to look at him. “We’re still here, still fighting. And yeah, half the time I feel like I’m one step away from completely losing my mind. But we can’t let that drag us down. We’ve got to find the joy where we can, you know?” She shrugged. “And if that means laughing at a few dead-heads, I’m laughing.”
Micky sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know, I know. It’s just…it’s hard, man. Trying to keep your head up when everything’s gone to hell.”
“Preaching to the choir,” Zero said. “But Roxy’s right. If we don’t find something to laugh about, something to keep us going, we might as well just lie down and let the walkers have at us.”
“Exactly,” Jimbo said. “Which is why I’m holding out hope for that golf cart retirement. It’s the little things, you know?”
Micky let out a chuckle. “You’re nuts, you know that?”
“Ah, you love it.”
Tommy leaned back in his seat, letting the familiar rhythm of his friends’ voices wash over him.
“So, where exactly are we headed?” Roxy asked.
“Zero said something about Kansas City, right?” Tommy said. “Reckon that’s as good a place as any to start looking for supplies.”
“And a drugstore,” Laila said, her gaze flicking to Micky.
Tommy nodded. “Right then. Kansas City it is. Jimbo, why don’t you regale us with more of your retirement plans? I’m fascinated to hear how you’re going to convince the other pensioners to let you join their ranks.”
Jimbo grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Well, first off, I’m going to need a fake ID. And a walking stick. Ooh, and one of those little hats with the plastic sunshield on the front. You know, to complete the look.”
“Yeah,” Roxy said. “That could work. And then you could convert the golf cart, A-Team style.”
Jimbo smiled. “We could rig up some sort of putter attachment on the front, whack them in the kneecaps and watch them topple like dominoes. All that before a few rounds of Pinochle.”
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