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.”

The Minks’ van rumbled through the deserted streets of downtown Denver, its tyres crunching over scattered debris and broken glass. Tommy kept his shotgun braced across his knees, eyes straining against the gloomy shadows outside.

Every few blocks revealed more burned-out husks of vehicles, toppled newsstands, and the occasional shambling silhouette that made his finger tighten around the trigger guard.

Up front, Zero leaned over the dashboard, scrutinizing an unfolded map. “I’m thinking our best bets are gonna be around here.” He traced a calloused fingertip along a cluster of blocks near the heart of the city’s core. “Department stores, strip malls…maybe even one of the big chain pharmacies left standing if we’re lucky.”

Roxy grunted as she weaved them through a fresh spill of rubble choking the intersection ahead. “You know, I used to love those old zombie flicks back in the day..”

Zero snorted a brief laugh. “You’re kidding, right? Those old Romero movies were practically a public service.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I loved every second of Night and Dawn. But he had nothing on Fulci when it came to pure, uncut Eurotrash.”

Zero shook his head and grinned. “Such a hipster.”

“At least old George had a point to make with all the satire stuff,” Tommy said.

“Yeah, and a right heavy hand he used to bludgeon us with it, too,” Roxy said.

Zero gave a weary chuckle. “Can’t lie though, I loved every over-the-top second of those flicks as a kid. All the blood, guts and bad moustaches you could ever want.”

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“For me, Zombieland will always be a modern classic,” Roxy said. “Took the piss out of the genre while still delivering some truly brilliant zombie kills.”

“I’ll give you that,” Zero said. “Always had me in stitches any time Woody showed up.”

Roxy barked out a laugh. “You just liked the bit with the Ghostbusters stubby.”

Zero sniffed. “Whatever.”

“You ever see Bio Zombie?”

“Nah.”

“Me neither,” Tommy said.

“Criminally underrated. Kind of like Dawn of the Dead meets Mallrats…in Hong Kong.”

Zero craned his neck around, checking the side roads. “Let me guess—combination of splatstick violence and juvenile humour?”

“That’s pretty much the pitch right there.” She raised a finger. “Just make sure you watch the original with subs. Trust me, the English dubbing’s so bad, everyone sounds like they learned to speak from Bill and Ted.”

“Subtitles, huh?” Zero grinned and shook his head. “Such a hipster.”

Roxy and Tommy both laughed.

Zero jabbed a meaty finger at the map once more. “Speaking of Dawn…might not be a bad place to poke around here. Shopping mall in the middle of the city. Bound to have one of those big chain pharmacy counters on the premises.”

Tommy frowned, cocking an eyebrow at the semi-demolished facade sliding by outside.

“Could be exactly what we need to kit Micky up and still get our asses back on the road.”

Zero pointed ahead. “Keep going. If I’m reading this right, should run us smack into that big outdoor shopping promenade off Sixteenth Street.” He glanced up. “From there, we might have better luck avoiding potential choke points and finding what we need without getting hemmed in from every angle.”

Roxy gave a curt nod, hanging a hard right at the next intersection.

“You know, sometimes I can’t help but wonder if all those zombie flicks weren’t some kind of predictive programming all along,” Zero said.

Tommy furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, like the movies were trying to prepare us for all this?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Zero twisted around in the passenger seat to fix Tommy with an intense stare. “The way I figure it, the Globalists have always buried their plans in plain sight for the sheeple to sleepwalk right into. Make folks numb and accepting to even the most nightmarish ideas simply by normalizing them through entertainment and media.”

Roxy snorted out a laugh. “What, like the World Economic Forum commissioned a bunch of drive-in schlock flicks about the great zombie uprising just to soften us all up? Have you completely lost it?”

“I’m serious,” Zero said. “Why else would they have greenlighted movie after movie about the same scenario we’re living right now, eh? Seems a bit more than coincidental if you ask me.”

“Oh, I dunno. Could just be that quality original ideas are awfully hard to come by in the dream factory these days.”

Roxy snickered, dodging a rusted sedan corpse half-buried in rubble up ahead. “Fair point that. Reckon they were probably just chuffed to bits over having another easy way to shoehorn fistfuls of cheap gore into the multiplexes.”

“Makes sense,” Tommy said.

“You know what we should do after we put this latest zombie crap behind us? We should write our own undead epic.”

Zero rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s just what everybody will be clamouring for once the dust settles—another bloody zombie road trip across the apocalypse.”

“I’m on about a big bloody showstopper. Maybe a musical, even!”

Tommy scratched at the bristly growth of beard along his jawline. “Yeah. We open with a group of Punk bands drifting from squat to squat, scamming every open mike for a bit of petty cash to keep them going till their next gig.”

“Naturally,” Roxy said.

“Right. So they’re on the road, scouting their big break, looking to put their mark on the musical map and finally get that dream gig. But—” Tommy paused. “—just when things are coming up aces for the first time in forever, some shadowy Big Pharma conglomerate leaks its latest bioweapon on the world.”

“Shades of Romero there. I’m liking where you’re headed with this,” Zero said.

“And just like that, everywhere these poor punks turn, they’re dodging drooling hordes of zombies chewing their way across the blasted hellscape our world’s become. They fight, they struggle, maybe lose one or two along the way as they scrounge for enough firepower to keep the dead-heads at bay.”

“Big sweeping action sequences scored to some punk bangers,” Roxy said, gunning them through an intersection strewn with wreckage. “All building to the final confrontation at some seedy dive where they make their heroic stand once and for all.”

“Title it up in big bloody neon lights, why don’t you?” Zero said.

“I can see it now—Punks Versus Zombies.”

“Little on the nose, ain’t it?”

“It’s got all the subtlety Hollywood’s good for these days and then some.” Roxy said. “Besides, don’t try and tell me you wouldn’t plunk down your last tin of baked beans to see our boys on the big screen.”

Zero exhaled a weary sigh, shaking his head. “You two really think anyone will have much stomach left for zombie schlock once all’s said and done here, though? Seems like after living the nightmare for real, the last thing anyone would want is watching a replay on the big screen.”

Roxy pursed her lips. “I don’t know about that. It could be a safe outlet to work through the trauma. Look at all the war movies. Why should our go at the dying earth be any different, eh?”

“Think she’s got a point there,” Tommy said. “Even after being in the darkest trenches, part of us still craves a bit of catharsis, you know? Like being able to look our worst nightmares right in the eye once it’s over and still give the bastards a great big middle finger.”

“Could be you’re onto something,” Zero said.

A small strip mall complex crested up ahead. A few shambling figures lurched through the rubble-strewn parking lots. Tommy felt his chuckles die in his throat, the familiar weight of reality settling back over all of them once more.

Roxy’s lips set as she wrestled the steering wheel, bearing them forward.

The mall complex loomed ahead, a jumbled ruin of burnt-out storefronts and shattered glass..

“Hold up.” Tommy leaned forward, squinting through the smeared windshield at the battered metal signpost jutting up from the debris field. “Sixteenth Street Mall. This must be the place.”

Roxy drew them to a stop just short of the barricades sealing off the pedestrian-only promenade. “Looks like the only way in will be on foot from here on out.”

“Alright,” Zero said. “We all set here?”

“Let’s do this.” Roxy slid from the van, shouldering her machete.

Zero followed suit, slamming the door shut, and marching on ahead. Roxy and Tommy walked behind him, weapons in hand.

“Keep your eyes open,” Zero said. “Let’s get what we need and get the hell out of here. No heroics, yeah?”

“Got it,” Tommy said.

The shattered storefronts of the Sixteenth Street Mall yawned before them. Shards of glass and twisted metal crunched underfoot as Tommy stepped inside.

Zero cut through the shadows with his flashlight, his rifle at the ready. “Could be squatters holed up in any one of these shops just waiting to jump our asses.”

Roxy gestured with her machete to the shredded awnings and knocked-over planters flanking the closest storefront. “Well if they are, looks like they’ve already picked this place clean.”

Along the arcade of shops and cafes, metal grates and security doors hung mangled from their tracks, many torn open from the inside as much as the exterior. Upended shelving units and display cases lay strewn amid the rubble.

Tommy peeked through one of the gaping doorways, shotgun at the ready. Inside, the floor was a minefield of shattered glass, rags, and blood. He pulled back, grimacing.

Roxy moved to check the next storefront. Her blade gleamed dully where the muted daylight slanted in through periodic breaks in the overhead skylights.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Rox,” Zero said. “We don’t know who’s hiding in here.”

“Or what,” Tommy said.

Roxy smirked. “Don’t be so dramatic, Tommy. It’s either going to be people or dead-heads.”

Tommy shrugged. “Could be feral dogs.”

“Or super mutants,” Zero said.

Roxy sighed.

A dull patter like rainfall echoed up ahead, pinging off the detritus scattered across the broken tiles.

Tommy tensed until he realised it was a trickle of water seeping from a burst pipe somewhere above, dripping onto the heaps of plaster and splintered wood.

He caught himself craning his neck to peer deeper into the vaulted shadows encircling the cavernous space.

Another furtive scurrying sounded nearby, cutting through the ambiance of dripping water and creaking infrastructure.

Tommy wheeled as he tried to pinpoint the threat’s location. But his search came up empty.

“Easy there, tiger,” Roxy said, pausing just long enough for Zero to catch up before forging ahead once more. “Probably just a bloody rat is all. Place like this, you’re bound to find them looking to scrounge whatever scraps they can.”

Zero grunted as his heavy boots crunched through the rubble.

Tommy swallowed hard, the sickly tang of mildew clinging to the inside of his throat, the cloying silence amplifying every stray sound.

He flinched as Roxy’s machete slashed through the taut canvas awning strung across the next storefront. The brittle material collapsed inward, revealing yet another stretch of shattered glass and overturned shelving inside.

“I keep expecting a biker gang to turn up and cause havoc,” Roxy said.

Tommy shrugged. “Maybe there’s a helicopter on the roof.”

Zero shook his head. “You joke, but we need to keep our eyes and ears open. You never know what’s around the next corner.”

“Maybe we should turn around?”

“Not scared are we, Tommy boy?”

“Maybe. But this place is stripped and we need to find meds for Micky.” He stopped and met their eyes. “And I don’t know about the rest of you, but another night like last night is liable to finish pushing me over the edge.”

“Damn it, Tommy,” Zero said. “We’re not going until we’ve made a full sweep.”

Tommy glanced over his shoulder. “You sure that’s the best idea?”

“We’re pressing on.”

Tommy managed a terse nod and fell into step behind Zero.

They marched onward, their footfalls sloughing through layers of decaying refuse and structural debris. The once pristine storefronts continued yielding nothing.

Gutted mannequins in poses of frozen hysteria. Tattered sale banners sagging across shredded clothing racks and checkout counters.

Tommy tried not to dwell on the blood stains painting the concrete floors. Nor the drag marks and scuff patterns.

The shadows seemed to swell and subside in waves as they ventured deeper.

Roxy halted, jutting out a hand as Tommy nearly ploughed into her back. “Hold up. You hear that?”

Zero tilted his head.

Tommy heard it—a faint scuffling somewhere off in the shadows far ahead.

“We’ve wasted enough time here already,” Roxy said.

Zero sighed. “You’re not wrong about that, Rox. I’d suggest we bug out.” Zero hoisted his rifle higher, every movement measured and precise as he headed in the direction of the main intersection.

Tommy fell into step behind him, any pretence of stealth now abandoned in favour of getting back to the van.

They pressed on at a quickened pace, desperate to leave the mall behind.

Relief washed over Tommy as the outer facade came into view. He picked up his pace, eager to be back under the open sky.

A sharp bang echoed from somewhere in the distance, making them all flinch.

“What the hell was that?” Roxy said under her breath.

Zero shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the shadows. “Could have been anything from a car backfiring to a gunshot.”

“Or something worse,” Tommy said, his shotgun suddenly feeling inadequate.

“We’re almost out.” Zero waved them forward with his rifle. “Let’s not linger to find out.”

They hurried out into the open-air plaza fronting the mall, greeted by hazy morning light and a gentle breeze.

Tommy took a deep breath, filling his lungs to dispel the stale, mouldering stench.

“Ugh, what a damn waste of time,” Roxy said. “Not even so much as a bottle of aspirin.”

Zero grunted in agreement as he surveyed the area, eventually settling his gaze on the Minks’ van.

“So what now?” Roxy asked as they strode towards the van. “We gonna head back or keep pressing on?”

“We need to find something for Mickey,” Tommy said. “Poor bastard’s going through hell.”

Zero sighed.

Tommy glared at him. “Got something to say?”

“Just that you reap what you sow.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, we shouldn’t be the ones out here risking our asses because a drummer got himself tangled in plez.”

“Whatever, man.”

“We head back to the others,” Zero said. “Get back on the road. There’s still a long way to go.”

“I can’t do that. I said I’d help him.”

“And you tried. We all did. But unless you can magic some of that stuff out your ass, we’re done here.”

“Maybe we just do a couple more sweeps nearby,” Roxy said. “There’s bound to be something.”

Zero gave a nod. “Alright, but we keep it quick. We’ll take a look around, but if we don’t find anything in the next hour, we’re leaving.”

Tommy held out a hand. “Deal.”