Punks Versus Zombies - episode 41 of the zombie survival serial

Welcome to episode 41. In our last episode, Tommy and the gang fought through a zombie horde in a storm....

The van trundled down the muddy track, headlights stabbing through the sheets of rain. Tommy leaned forward, peering out into the storm-lashed night. Dark shapes loomed on either side, trees thrashing in the wind.

A flash of lightning illuminated a weathered sign: “Harris Farm.” The letters were faded, the wood rotting at the edges.

The track opened up into a gravel yard, a farmhouse hunched at its centre. To the left, a large barn sagged beneath the weight of years, its paint peeling in long, curling strips.

Zero brought the van to a halt, the engine idling. He turned to face the others, his expression grim. “This place looks deserted, but we can’t afford to take chances. Tommy and I will do a perimeter check, make sure it’s clear. The rest of you, stay put and keep your eyes peeled.”

Tommy grabbed his bat and slid out into the rain, the water cold against his skin. He hunched his shoulders against the downpour, squinting into the darkness as he fumbled with his flashlight.

Zero appeared at his side, rifle at the ready. He jerked his chin towards the barn. “That’s our best bet for shelter. Sturdy walls, defensible entrance. We should check there first.”

Tommy nodded, his eyes scanning the shadows. Wind howled around them, driving the rain in stinging sheets. Every rustle, every creak set his nerves jangling. It would be all too easy for a shambling figure to slip from the darkness, to catch them unawares.

They approached the barn, Tommy’s bat raised, Zero’s rifle held low and ready. Tommy tried the door, the wood groaning on rusted hinges. It swung open to reveal a cavernous interior, the air thick with the scent of old hay and engine oil.

Zero flicked on his flashlight, the beam cutting through the gloom. Hulking shapes resolved into farm equipment—a tractor, a thresher, coils of chain. The floor was packed dirt, scattered with straw. “Looks clear. Big enough to park the van, too.”

They completed a circuit of the interior, checking the loft and the stalls. No sign of the dead, or anything living.

Satisfied, they returned to the van. Tommy rapped on the passenger window, and Roxy cranked it down a crack. “Barn’s secure. And it’s dry. We can hole up there for the night.”

Roxy nodded. “What about the house? There could be supplies in there, maybe even beds.”

From the back, Jimbo snorted. “Yeah, or a pack of cannibal hicks just waiting to turn us into jerky.”

Roxy shot him a glare. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, Jimbo. Who exactly do you think is out here?”

“I don’t know, Rox. That’s kinda the point. Better safe than turned into people-burgers, is all I’m saying.”

Tommy chewed his lip. His body ached for a real bed, for a chance to be warm and dry. But Jimbo had a point. “I don’t like it. Too many unknowns. We stick to the barn, at least for tonight.”

Zero nodded his agreement. “Tommy’s right. We’re exposed enough as it is. No sense taking extra risks.”

Roxy sighed. “Fine. Let’s just get inside before we all drown.”

Zero hopped back into the driver’s seat and eased the van into the barn.

Tommy and Jimbo wrestled the doors shut behind them, securing the rusty latch with a loop of chain.

The others piled out of the van, grabbing their packs and supplies. Tommy helped Jimbo and Roxy unload the sleeping bags and mats from the back.

“I’ll take some of those up to the loft,” Roxy said, gathering an armful of bedrolls. She headed for the wooden ladder leaning against the loft opening and began climbing up.

Tommy climbed the rickety ladder to the hayloft, his bat slung across his back. The rough wood creaked under his weight. At the top, he paused, breathing in the musty scent of old hay and dust.

The loft was a large, open space, the floor covered in a thick layer of straw. Bales were stacked along the walls, forming makeshift barriers. The roof sloped down on either side, the rafters hung with cobwebs.

Tommy unslung his pack, setting it down in a corner. The others followed suit, arranging their belongings in a rough circle.

Rain hammered on the roof, the barn shuddering under the onslaught.

Tommy moved to one of the windows, peering out into the night. The glass was filthy, streaked with grime, but he could just make out the dark shapes of the trees, thrashing in the gale.

He shuddered, turning away. His skin prickled, every nerve thrumming with tension.

Behind him, the others were busy hanging their wet clothes on a length of chain Zero had strung between two posts. Shirts and jeans dripped, the fabric heavy with rain.

Laila sat apart from the rest, huddled against a bale, her knees drawn up to her chest, her eyes distant, unfocused.

Tommy crossed over to her, crouching down at her side. “Hey. You okay?”

She blinked, seeming to come back to herself. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

He reached out, laying a hand on her arm. “Talk to me, Lai. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

She shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“We’re all tired. But this is more than that. You’ve been pulling away, isolating yourself. That’s not like you.”

“What’s the point? Of any of this? We’re just delaying the inevitable.”

“Don’t say that. We’re going to make it through this.”

“How? How are we going to make it? Every day is just a fight to stay alive, and for what? So we can do it all again tomorrow?”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight. “I know it seems hopeless. Believe me, I feel it too. But we can’t give up. We have to keep fighting”

She held his gaze, searching his face. At last, she sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I’m trying, Tommy. I really am. But it’s hard. It’s so hard.”

He pulled her into a hug, feeling the way she trembled against him. “I know. But you’re not alone, Lai. Remember that.”

She clung to him, her face pressed into his shoulder as the barn groaned and shuddered.

This place isn’t going to hold forever,” Zero said. “We need to shore it up, make it as secure as we can.”

Tommy pulled back from Laila, meeting Zero’s grim gaze. “What do you suggest?”

Zero jerked his chin towards the stacked bales. “We use those to block the windows, the doors. Create a barrier between us and whatever’s out there.”

Tommy nodded. “The loft, too. We can pull up the ladder, make it a last line of defence.”

Roxy stirred from where she sat, her shoulder pressed against Jimbo’s. “What about escape routes? If they breach the barn, we need a way out.”

Zero considered, his eyes scanning the loft. “There’s a window at the back, leads out onto the roof. We secure a rope, we can use it to rappel down if needed.”

“And then what?” Jimbo asked. “Where do we go? We’re miles from anywhere.”

“We cross that bridge when we come to it, Jimbo,” Roxy said. “Right now, we focus on getting through the night.”

Jimbo sighed. “One night at a time. Guess that’s all we can do, huh?”

Tommy got to his feet, squaring his shoulders. “Alright. Let’s get to work. Zero, you and Jimbo start on the windows. Roxy, you, and Laila see what you can do about that ladder. I’ll take the door.”

They split up, each to their appointed task. Tommy crossed to the loft door, studying the heavy planks, the rusted hinges. It was sturdy enough, but he didn’t like the way it shuddered in the wind, the way the gaps around the edges whistled with each gust.

He set his shoulder to a nearby hay bale, grunting with effort as he shoved it into place. The straw scratched at his skin, the dust tickling his nose, but he ignored it. He worked methodically, building a wall around the door, a barricade against the night.

It might not hold back an attack, but it would buy them some time.

As he worked, his mind wandered, spinning out scenarios, contingencies.

If the dead breached the barn, if they were overwhelmed…what then?

Where would they go?

How would they survive?

There were no easy answers. No safe havens, no refuges from the nightmare that had engulfed the world.

The others worked quickly, piling bales and debris in front of the windows until only narrow slits remained to allow glimpses of the storm raging outside.

As the final barricades went up, a sense of relief washed over the group. For tonight at least, they would have a relatively secure shelter from the elements and any threats.

Zero rummaged through their supplies, producing some cans of beans and a packet of potato chips. “Feast fit for a king.”

They gathered around, opening the cans and passing them around to share the cold contents.

No one complained.

After eating, they sorted out their sleeping arrangements in the loft. The thin bedrolls and musty hay bales didn’t make for the most comfortable beds, but at least it was dry.

“I’ll take first watch,” Tommy said. “I managed to grab a couple hours sleep in the van.”

The others nodded, too exhausted to object. One by one they bedded down amid the hay, pulling jackets and blankets up tightly against the drafts.

Tommy settled back against the wall, his bat within easy reach, and prepared to keep vigil.

The sounds of the others’ breathing soon joined the patter of rain as Roxy, Jimbo, Laila and Zero drifted off to sleep.