Punks Versus Zombies - episode 38 of the post-apocalyptic zombie saga
Welcome to episode 38. In our left episode, Tommy and the others helped students in Columbia protect their library from raiders...
As the van rumbled down the highway, leaving Columbia behind, a sombre silence settled over the group. The weight of their recent losses hung heavy, a palpable presence that couldn’t be ignored.
“We can’t keep going like this,” Zero said, his voice rough. “Our weapons, our supplies…they’re not enough. Not anymore.”
Tommy looked up from where he sat hunched in the passenger seat, his head throbbing with the remnants of his hangover. “What are you saying, Zero?”
“I’m saying we need to stock up on weapons and ammo, on anything that can give us an edge out there.” Zero’s gaze swept over the others. “First chance we get, we hit up any place that might have what we need. Military surplus stores, gun shops…anything.”
Tommy nodded, his jaw tight. “You’re right. We can’t afford to be caught off guard again.”
Zero grunted, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as he guided the van towards the distant horizon. “St. Louis isn’t far from here. Big city like that, there’s bound to be places we can scavenge for gear.”
Roxy leaned forward from the backseat. “You want us to go back into a city? After Denver?”
Tommy turned to her. “We can’t keep running forever, Rox. We need supplies, and a big city like St. Louis is our best bet.”
Roxy shook her head. “It’s too dangerous. We barely made it out of Denver alive. What makes you think St. Louis will be any different?”
Zero scoffed. “We don’t have a choice. We’re running low on everything, and we need to restock if we want to survive.”
Roxy leaned back, her arms crossed over her chest. “There has to be another way. Smaller towns, rural areas. Somewhere safer.”
Tommy sighed, rubbing his temples. “Look, I get it. Going into the city is a risk. But we can’t keep scavenging in the sticks and expect decent results.”
Jimbo leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I’m with Zero. We need better weapons, dude. I don’t know about you, but I’d feel a whole lot safer with a real gun in my hands instead of this stupid nine iron.”
Roxy shot him a look. “Guns attract attention, Jimbo. The sound, the flash. It’s like ringing the dinner bell for every zombie in the area.”
Jimbo shrugged. “Maybe. But at least we’d stand a better chance.”
Tommy held up his hands, trying to calm the rising tension. “Okay, look. How about a compromise? We go into St. Louis, but we keep it low-key. Stick to the outskirts, scout around a bit. If things look dicey, we bail out. No heroics, no unnecessary risks.”
Zero gave a nod. “Fine. But we need to move fast. In and out, no dawdling.”
Jimbo leaned back in his seat. “I’m cool with that. Zombies are one thing, but it’s the humans that really scare me. At least with the dead-heads, you know what you’re getting. But people? They’re unpredictable. Dangerous.”
Roxy sighed. “Not all of them. We’ve met good people too, Jimbo. People who helped us, who took us in when we needed it most.”
Zero sniffed. “And look how that turned out. Those ‘good people’ at Haven? They were a bunch of psychos. And the library? They couldn’t even protect their own.”
Roxy opened her mouth to argue, but Zero cut her off with a sharp gesture. “Face it, Rox. In this world, you can’t trust anyone but yourself and your own. Everybody else is just a liability waiting to happen.”
A heavy silence settled over the van.
Tommy glanced over at Laila, who sat huddled against the window, her gaze distant and unfocused. “What do you think, Lai?”
Laila didn’t respond, her eyes never leaving the landscape outside. After a long moment, she gave a slight shrug, her shoulders barely moving.
Tommy sighed, turning back to face the road ahead. He understood Laila’s silence, her withdrawal. After everything they’d been through, after all the losses and the horrors, it was a miracle any of them could still function at all.
Roxy sank back into her seat. “Do whatever you want. I just want to get back home. That’s all that matters now.”
Tommy nodded, his chest tightening. Home seemed like such a distant concept now, a fading memory of a life that no longer existed. But still, the thought of seeing Niamh and Sean again, of holding them in his arms and knowing they were safe…it was the one thing that kept him going.
But as the miles fell away beneath the van’s wheels, his mind drifted to thoughts of Dr. Jameson, of the way the man had welcomed them into his community, had fought and died to protect the knowledge he held so dear. He thought of the survivors they had left behind, the men and women who had chosen to stay and continue the professor’s work.
And he thought of Micky, lying cold and still in a makeshift grave, his life cut short by the cruel whims of fate.
The guilt and the grief threatened to overwhelm him, to drag him down into the dark abyss that yawned at the edges of his consciousness. But he pushed it away, forcing himself to focus on the present, on the challenges that lay ahead.
There was only survival, raw and brutal and unrelenting.
They were broken and battered, scarred in ways that might never fully heal. But they were still alive.
Still breathing.
Still fighting.
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