Punks Versus Zombies - Episode 49 of the weekly post-apocalyptic serial

Welcome to episode 49. In our last episode, Tommy and the group finally made it to Philly...

Tommy stepped into the apartment, his breath catching in his throat.

He stood there for a moment, his eyes scanning the familiar space, taking in every detail. The worn sofa where he and Niamh had cuddled on lazy Sunday mornings, the bookshelf filled with Sean’s favourite bedtime stories, the faded band posters on the walls.

It was all just as he remembered it, untouched by the chaos and destruction that had consumed the world outside.

“Niamh?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Sean? Are you here?”

Silence.

He took a step forward, then another, his boots scuffing on the worn carpet.

“Niamh, please. If you’re here, if you can hear me, answer me. Please…” His voice broke on the last word, a sob welling up in his throat.

He moved through the apartment in a daze, his fingers trailing over the familiar surfaces, the memories threatening to overwhelm him.

Sean’s room was just as he had left it, the bed neatly made, the stuffed animals arranged on the pillow.

Tommy picked up a small teddy bear, its fur worn and matted from countless cuddles. He held it to his chest, inhaling the faint scent of his son, the tears flowing freely now.

There was no sign of a struggle, no indication that anything bad had happened here. But there was also no sign of life, no hint of where his family might have gone or what might have happened to them.

The uncertainty was worse than anything, the not knowing. It ate at him like acid, corroding his hope with every passing moment.

He sank to the floor, his back against the wall, the teddy bear clutched to his chest. The sobs wracked his body.

He had come so far, had fought so hard to get back to them. And now, to find nothing, to be left with only questions and fears and the aching, empty hole in his heart…it was more than he could bear.

“Tommy?”

He looked up, his vision blurred with tears. Jimbo stood in the doorway.

“They’re not here. I don’t…I don’t know where they are.”

Jimbo crossed the room, sinking down to sit beside him. He put an arm around Tommy’s shoulders. “Listen to me. We don’t know anything yet, okay? Just because they’re not here doesn’t mean…it doesn’t mean the worst.”

Tommy shook his head, his throat tight. “But what if it does? What if they’re gone, Jimbo? What if I’ve lost them forever?”

“You can’t think like that, dude. Look how far you’ve come, everything you’ve been through to get here. You can’t give up now, not when we’re so close.”

Tommy looked at him, his eyes searching Jimbo’s face for some kind of answer, some kind of hope. “I don’t know what to do. Where to go. This was it. This was supposed to be it.”

Jimbo squeezed his shoulder. “So we keep looking. We knock on doors, we call on friends. We do whatever it takes to track them down.”

Tommy hesitated. “I can’t…I can’t leave. What if they come back and I’m not here? What if I miss them?”

“So we leave a note. Tell them where you’ve gone, that you’re gonna be back. And we come back, every day if we have to, until they turn up.”

Tommy took a shuddering breath, his mind racing. Jimbo was right. He couldn’t give up, not now. Not after everything he had been through, everything he had sacrificed to get here.

Slowly, painfully, he got to his feet. He set the teddy bear on Sean’s bed, his fingers lingering on the soft fur for a moment.

He moved to the kitchen, rummaging through the drawers until he found a pad of paper and a pen. He scribbled a hasty note, his hand shaking slightly as he poured his heart onto the page.

Niamh, Sean.

I’m alive. I’m here. I’ve been fighting my way across the country to get back to you. If you see this, please, please wait for me. I’ll come back, every day, until I see you again.

I love you both, more than anything.

Tommy.

He left the note on the kitchen table, propped up against the salt and pepper shakers. It looked small and insignificant against the expanse of the wooden surface, but it was the best he could do.

He took one last look around the apartment, committing every detail to memory. The scuffed flooring, the faded curtains, the framed photos on the walls.

This had been his home, his sanctuary. And even if Niamh and Sean weren’t here now, even if he didn’t know where they were or what had happened to them, he had to believe that they would find their way back. That they would be a family again.

Tommy stepped into his and Niamh’s bedroom and rummaged through the closet, his fingers brushing against the familiar fabrics of his old clothes. He pulled out a few t-shirts and pairs of jeans.

He turned to the others, who were gathered in the living room, sorting through their supplies. “Anyone want a change of clothes? I’ve got plenty here.”

Zero and Roxy looked up, their faces brightening. “Hell yes,” Roxy said, pushing herself to her feet. “I feel like I’ve been wearing these rags for a decade.”

Jimbo chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, dude. Thanks, but I don’t think your skinny jeans would fit over my muscular thighs.”

Tommy cracked a smile. He tossed a bundle of clothes to Zero, watching as he sorted through the offerings.

He held up a black t-shirt, the logo of Zero’s band, Anarchy’s Child, emblazoned across the front. “Hey, Zero. How about this?”

Zero took the shirt, his eyebrows raising. “You’re actually a fan?”

Tommy shrugged. “What can I say? I saw you a couple of years back here in Philly.”

Zero barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Man, the idea of you moshing to our tunes…that’s just too good.” As Zero stripped off his blood-stained shirt, Tommy noticed a wicked-looking scratch running down the length of his forearm. The skin around it was red and inflamed, the edges of the wound ragged and torn.

“Whoa, what happened there?”

Zero glanced down at his arm, his brow furrowing. “Must have caught it on something when I fell during that last fight. It’s no big deal.”

Jimbo appeared at Zero’s side, a first-aid kit in his hands. “Let me take a look at that, dude. We can’t afford to let anything get infected.”

Zero sighed but held out his arm, allowing Jimbo to clean the wound with antiseptic wipes.

“I don’t like the look of this, Zee. It’s deep, and the edges…they’re not clean. Almost like…”

“Like what?” Tommy asked.

Jimbo met his gaze. “Like a zombie scratch.”

Zero yanked his arm away, his face twisting. “No way, man. No freaking way. I would know if one of those things got me. I’m fine.”

Tommy held up his hands. “Okay, let’s just…let’s not jump to conclusions. We’ll keep an eye on it, make sure it doesn’t get any worse.”

Zero grumbled but allowed Jimbo to bandage the wound.

Tommy turned away, his mind racing.

He grabbed a bundle of Niamh’s clothes, the soft fabrics feeling strange in his hands. He approached Roxy, holding them out to her. “Here. These should fit you.”

Roxy took the clothes, her eyes softening as she ran her fingers over the material. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

Tommy nodded, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. It felt wrong, somehow, to be giving away Niamh’s things. Like he was betraying her, erasing her presence from their home.

But it was necessary. Roxy needed the clothes more than the empty closet did.

He turned to Laila, who was sitting on the couch, checking her handgun. “Lai? You want anything?”

Laila shook her head, her gaze distant. “No point.”

“It’s fine.”

“My place isn’t too far from here.”

Tommy nodded. He had been so focused on his own family, his own desperate search, that he had almost forgotten that Laila had people waiting for her too. Parents she loved, parents she was fighting to get back to.

As the others finished changing and gathering their supplies, Tommy took a deep breath, steeling himself for what came next.

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