The grey sky churned overhead as Tommy trudged along the highway, his injured ankle throbbing with each step, but he gritted his teeth and pushed on.

Behind him, Zero, Roxy, and Laila lagged as they checked inside each vehicle they passed.

“Come on, guys,” Tommy called over his shoulder. “We need to keep moving.”

Zero straightened up from where he’d been rummaging through a battered sedan, his rifle slung across his back. “Slow down, Tommy boy. Rushing past resources isn’t going to do us any favours in the long run.”

“Resources won’t mean anything if we’re dead.” Tommy stopped, leaning heavily against a rusted-out Chevy, his ankle screaming. “We’re losing time. Every second we spend here, we’re exposed.”

Roxy slammed the trunk of a Honda. “Zero’s right. We find a working car, it could cut hours off our travel time. Give your ankle a chance to heal.”

“I’ll heal when I’m dead. Getting to Philly by nightfall. That’s all that matters now.”

A distant moan carried on the wind. Shadows moved at the far end of the highway, just beyond the last abandoned car.

Tommy’s pulse pounded in his ears, his hand tightening around his bat.

Zero wrenched open the door of a van and cursed, leaping back as a zombie lunged out at him, its jaws snapping. He brought his rifle up, smashing the butt into the creature’s face once, twice, until it crumpled.

“This is what I’m talking about,” Tommy said. “The dead are everywhere. We can’t afford to—”

“Hold up, dudes.” Jimbo stepped between them, his hands raised. “Pretty sure we can walk and search at the same time, yeah? Let’s motor before we’re the blue plate special.”

The moans rose.

Tommy risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately wished he hadn’t. The horde was close enough now to make out individual faces, rotted and twisted with mindless hunger.

“Truck!” Zero yelled. “It’s gassed up and good to go!”

They converged on the pickup, throwing bags of scavenged goods into the rusted bed.

Roxy swung into the passenger seat as Zero slid behind the wheel.

Tommy, Laila, and Jimbo clambered into the back.

“Stay sharp.” Tommy hefted his bat. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

The engine roared to life. Zero slammed it into gear and stomped the gas. Tyres screeched and smoked as the truck leapt forward, bouncing and rattling over debris, the suspension shrieking.

Tommy clung to the side of the bed, his knuckles white, his injured ankle screaming as the jolts sent agony shooting up to his hip.

“Guys, I…” Tommy swallowed, tasting bile. “I’m sorry. You were right. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

Laila stared straight ahead, saying nothing.

Jimbo clapped Tommy on the shoulder. “All in the past, dude. We’re rolling now. That’s what counts.”

Tommy nodded, looking back at the receding horde.

But as the first drops of rain began to fall, splattering cold against his skin, he couldn’t shake the feeling that their luck was running out. That it was only a matter of time before the death and ruin around them caught up and dragged them down.

He clutched his bat tighter and turned to face the road ahead. Towards Philadelphia. Towards home—or whatever was left of it.

Ten miles. That’s all that separated them from Philadelphia now. Ten miles of uncertainty, of not knowing what horrors might await them.

Tommy’s grip tightened on his baseball bat, the wood rough against his calloused palms.

Jimbo sidled closer. “How’s that ankle holding up, dude?”

Tommy shrugged, wincing at the movement. “I’ll live. Got bigger things to worry about.”

“True that.” Jimbo hesitated, his eyes searching Tommy’s face. “You know, I just realised—I haven’t seen you take a swig for a few days.”

“Huh. Guess I’ve been too busy to think about it.”

Jimbo clapped him on the shoulder, a grin splitting his face. “Proud of you, dude. Kicking the habit in the middle of the apocalypse? That’s as punk as it gets.”

Tommy glanced down at the ‘X’ tattoos on his hands and managed a chuckle. “Couldn’t have done it without you, man. You’ve been there for me. That means a lot.”

“Always will be.”

The road curved ahead, a gentle bend that obscured the path forward.

Zero rounded the corner and cursed.

Zombies. Hundreds of them, a writhing mass of rotting flesh and grasping hands, spilling onto the road.

“Damn it!” Zero slammed the brakes. “Roxy, take the wheel!”

In a blur of motion, Zero stepped out of the cabin as Roxy took the wheel.

He clambered into the back and unslung his rifle, the barrel glinting in the watery sunlight. “Get ready.” He took up position at the front of the truck bed as Roxy moved them forward. “This is going to get messy.”

Tommy, Jimbo, and Laila fanned out behind him.

The truck bed felt impossibly small, a flimsy scrap of metal between them and the horde.

“Hold on!” Roxy called, her voice barely audible over the roar of the engine.

The truck surged forward, Roxy aiming straight for the heart of the horde.

Tommy’s stomach lurched as they ploughed into the mass of bodies, zombies thudding against the grille, bouncing off the hood.

Zero opened fire, his rifle cracking.

Each shot found its mark, zombies crumpling.

The truck shuddered and bucked as it mowed through the horde, the crunch of bones, the squelch of rotten flesh.

Tommy swung his bat in wide arcs, the impact juddering up his arms as he shattered skull after skull.

Beside him, Jimbo’s golf club whirled, caving in faces, sending teeth and flesh flying.

Laila’s tyre iron flashed in the sun, finding eye sockets, throats, temples.

Tommy fought in grim silence.

Every breath was a gasp, every muscle screamed with exertion.

Roxy held the truck steady as she barrelled forward.

Zombies scrabbled at the doors, their fingernails screeching against the paint.

Zero fired methodically, each shot precise, calculated.

Brass casings clattered at his feet, bright against the blood-slick metal.

He reloaded, never taking his eyes off the road ahead.

As the horde began to thin. Roxy crushed the last few stragglers beneath the tyres, their bodies pulverizing into ruin.

Silence fell, broken only by the panting of the living, the hiss of the engine.

Tommy slumped against the side of the truck, his arms aching, his lungs burning. “Everyone okay? Anyone bit?”

Jimbo and Laila shook their heads. Zero gave a curt nod.

Tommy leaned towards the driver’s window. “Rox, that was some damn fine driving.” He turned to Zero. “And shooting. You saved our asses back there.”

Roxy flashed him a smile in the rearview mirror.

Zero grunted, already scanning the road ahead. “We got lucky. Can’t count on that happening again.”

Tommy nodded. He tightened his grip on his bat and stared ahead, trying not to think about what awaited them in the city. Trying not to picture Niamh’s face, Sean’s smile, warped and twisted by the infection.

They were so close now, close enough that he could almost taste the acrid tang of home on the back of his tongue. But with each passing mile, each ragged breath, he couldn’t escape the sinking realisation that it might already be too late.

Tommy closed his eyes, letting the rumble of the engine, the rush of wind, drown out his spiralling thoughts.

Beside him, Jimbo started humming under his breath, a familiar tune that cut through the gloom.

Tommy recognised it instantly—‘I Fought the Law’, by The Clash.

One by one, the others joined in, their voices ragged but defiant, a chorus against the endless drone of the dead.

And as he added his own voice to the mix, Tommy felt something flicker to life in his chest, fragile but fierce. Something that felt almost like hope.

Punk’s not dead, Tommy thought, a grim smile tugging at his lips.

Not yet.

The skyline of Philadelphia loomed on the horizon, a jagged silhouette against the dying light.

They were so close now, so close to the city that held everything he’d been fighting for.

Roxy guided the pickup truck along the deserted thoroughfare. In the back, Tommy, Laila, Zero, and Jimbo remained on high alert, their weapons at the ready, scanning the surroundings for any sign of threat.

As they drew closer to the city, military checkpoints dotted the road, abandoned now, the barriers left open.

Banners fluttered in the breeze, their stark lettering announcing quarantine zones, warning of the danger that lay ahead.

Tommy leaned against the side of the truck, his gaze drawn to the stillness that had settled over the city. It was as if all life had been sucked out, leaving only a husk behind.

“Heads up,” Zero called, pointing to a sprawling complex off to the side of the road. “FEMA camp, two o’clock.”

Tommy followed his gaze, taking in the high chain-link fences, the military barricades that surrounded the encampment. It looked as though it had been abandoned in a hurry, tents torn and flapping in the wind, supplies scattered across the ground.

“Looks like it got overrun,” Jimbo said. “Zombies or looters, take your pick.”

Zero shook his head, his lips twisting in a sneer. “Probably some Globalist ploy to round up survivors.”

Tommy frowned, turning to him. “What are you talking about?”

“Think about it, Tommy boy. There’s more going on here than meets the eye.” “Look.” Zero pointed to a nearby lamppost, where the shattered remains of a surveillance camera hung. “See that? And there, on that building. Drones, military grade.”

Tommy followed his gaze towards the sleek, black shapes perched on the rooftops. “What the hell?”

“Globalists,” Zero spat. “They’ve been watching us, tracking us. This whole thing, the outbreak, the quarantine—it’s all part of their plan. They engineered the virus, unleashed it on the population. And now they’re using it to control us, to herd us like sheep.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

High chain-link fences topped with razor wire came into view, encircling the entire city. Watchtowers loomed at regular intervals.

Roxy slowed the pickup truck as they neared a heavily fortified checkpoint. Concrete barriers and sandbags formed a narrowing path.

“This doesn’t look good,” Laila said.

Tommy leaned forward, squinting at the soldiers manning the checkpoint. They were clad in full riot gear, their faces hidden behind gas masks and visors.

Roxy brought the truck to a stop as a soldier stepped forward, his hand raised. “State your business,” he said, his voice muffled by his mask.

Tommy swallowed hard. “We’re trying to get into the city. I have family there, my girlfriend and my son. I need to find them.”

The soldier shook his head. “No one in or out. The city’s under strict quarantine until the outbreak is contained.”

“Please. You have to let us through. I’m a resident, I have a home there.”

“Until the infection is cleared, Philadelphia is off-limits to new arrivals. No exceptions.”

“And how long is that going to take, huh? Weeks? Months? You can’t just keep us out of our own city!”

The soldier’s grip tightened on his rifle. “That’s not my call to make. But I have my orders. No one crosses this checkpoint without express military authorisation. Turn your vehicle around and leave the area immediately.”

Zero surged forward. “I knew it! This is all part of their plan, isn’t it? The Globalists, the New World Order. They engineered this whole thing, released the virus on purpose so they could lock us all down, control us like sheep!”

The soldiers tensed, their weapons snapping up to aim at Zero. “Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down and step back into the vehicle.”

Tommy grabbed Zero’s arm, hauling him back. “Are you trying to get us shot? Now’s not the time.”

Zero shrugged him off, still glaring at the soldiers.

“Zero,” Roxy called. “Come on. Don’t fall for their trap.”

Zero looked between Roxy and the soldiers then allowed Tommy to steer him back onto the truck.

Tommy turned back to the lead soldier, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry about my friend. He’s just stressed, we all are. But please, there must be some way you can help us. Some way we can get into the city to look for my family.”

The soldier’s stance seemed to soften. But then he shook his head. “I’m sorry. But orders are orders. No outside civilians allowed past this point.”

Tommy’s shoulders slumped. They were so close, so damn close to where he needed to be. But it might as well have been a million miles away, with the military blockade standing in their path.

“Come on, T,” Roxy said. “We’re not going to get anywhere here.”

Tommy took a shuddering breath, the fight draining out of him. She was right. Trying to force their way through would only end in disaster.

They needed to find another way into the city.

With a last, lingering look at the barricades, Tommy nodded to Roxy and climbed into the back.

Roxy put the pickup in reverse, backing away from the checkpoint.

As they retreated, Tommy couldn’t tear his gaze from the skyline of Philadelphia. Somewhere beyond those fences, beyond the soldiers, Niamh and Sean were waiting for him.

Tommy shook his head, forcing himself to focus. “Okay, so how do we get inside?”

“We need to find a way past their perimeter without drawing the Globalists’ attention,” Zero said.

“Pull over up here.” Tommy gestured to a side street. “We need a plan.”

Roxy guided the truck to a stop, killing the engine.

For a moment, they sat in silence.

“Gather everything we can carry,” Zero said. “Make sure our weapons are in working order. “

They set to work, dividing up the remaining food and water, checking their guns and melee weapons.

As they worked, Tommy felt a sense of grim determination settling over him. This was it, the final push. They were going to make it into the city, find his family, and get the hell out of there. No matter what it took.

When they were as ready as they could be, Tommy gathered them around, looking each of them in the eye. “Listen up. What we’re about to do, it’s not going to be easy. We’re walking into a city that might be crawling with soldiers and who knows what else. But we’re going to stick together, watch each other’s backs.”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the distant groans of the undead.

Roxy stepped forward, her hand outstretched.

One by one, the others joined her, their hands coming together in a tight circle.

Tommy looked around at their faces, these people who had become his family, his reason for fighting. “Are we ready?”

The others nodded.

Shadows stretched across the abandoned streets, the darkness broken only by the faint glow of the moon and the occasional flicker of a distant fire.

The perimeter fence loomed before them. Watchtowers stood at intervals along the barrier.

Zero unslung his rifle, peering through the scope. “Looks like these towers are unmanned. But that doesn’t mean they’re not watching.”

Tommy nodded. “We need to find a way in that doesn’t take us through the main checkpoints. Somewhere less guarded.”

“Over there.” Laila pointed to a section of the fence that was partially obscured by overgrown vegetation and piles of debris. “Utility tunnels. They might lead under the fence.”

Zero grunted. “Let’s check it out.”

Tommy crept closer, keeping low to the ground, his senses straining. As he drew near, rusted grates came into view, half-hidden by the undergrowth.

He and Laila set to work clearing the entrance, pulling away the tangled vines and shifting the rubble as quietly as they could.

The others kept watch, their weapons at the ready, their eyes scanning the shadows.

With a final heave, Tommy managed to wrench one of the grates open, revealing a narrow, dark passage that disappeared into the earth.

He shone his flashlight into the opening, the beam revealing a cramped tunnel lined with pipes and cables. “Looks clear. But we’ll need to keep the light low. Don’t want to attract any attention.”

One by one, they lowered themselves into the tunnel, the damp air and the close press of the walls doing little to calm his nerves.

He took a steadying breath, forcing down the rising tide of claustrophobia that threatened to choke him.

“Watch your step. And stay close.”

Tommy took point with Zero bringing up the rear.

The only sounds were the soft scuff of their footsteps and the occasional drip of water from the pipes overhead.

The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever, a labyrinth of twists and turns that made Tommy’s head spin.

The air grew thicker, more oppressive with every step, the musty stench of mould and decay filling his nostrils.

Behind him, Laila’s breathing grew quick and shallow.

Tommy reached out, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “We’re gonna be okay. Just a little further.”

Zero held up a hand, bringing them to a halt. He cocked his head, listening intently. “You hear that?”

Tommy strained his ears, trying to pick out any sound over the pounding in his skull. And then he heard it—a soft, rhythmic thumping, like footsteps on the ground above.

“Someone’s up there,” Roxy said.

“Or something,” Jimbo said.

Tommy stood frozen, hardly daring to breathe as the footsteps drew closer, the thumping growing louder and more distinct.

Tommy’s mind raced, imagining the worst—a patrol of soldiers, a horde of zombies, some new horror they hadn’t yet encountered.

But then the sound faded away, receding into the distance until it was swallowed by the silence.

Zero let out a slow breath.

Tommy pressed on, moving faster now, driven by a growing sense of urgency.

The tunnel began to slope upward, the air growing fresher, tinged with the faint scent of smoke and decay.

Up ahead, Tommy’s torch beam illuminated a rusted metal hatch. “That must be our way out.”

They gathered around the hatch, Zero and Jimbo working to pry it open with the blade of Roxy’s machete.

It resisted at first, the hinges stubborn.

But then, with a screech of metal, it gave way, swinging upward to reveal a small, dark room.

Tommy found himself in what appeared to be the basement of an abandoned building, the walls lined with shelves of dusty boxes and crates.

He moved to a small window set high in the wall, peering out at the street beyond. His breath caught in his throat.

The city was pockmarked with scars of violence.

The dead wandered, their bodies twisted and rotting, their faces slack and empty.

“So much for a quarantine zone,” Jimbo said.

Zero sniffed. “Just like everywhere else.”

Tommy didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the desolation outside.

Niamh, Sean—they were out there. They had to be.

“Are we inside?” Roxy asked.

Tommy nodded. “Looks that way.”

“I think I know where we are,” Laila said. “We shouldn’t be too far from the Bell Telephone Exchange.”

Tommy turned back to the others. “We need to keep moving. Stick to the shadows, avoid the main streets.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Tommy crept through the shadowed streets, his heart pounding in his chest, his every sense strained to the breaking point. Behind him, the others followed in a tight formation, their weapons held at the ready.

They moved like ghosts, flitting from cover to cover, using the gutted cars and crumbling walls to shield them from view.

Tommy led the way, his hand signals sharp and precise as he guided them through the city.

Windows gaped, their jagged edges glinting in the moonlight. Graffiti sprawled across every surface, the spray-painted words a jumbled mix of desperation and defiance. Distant gunfire echoed through the streets.

Tommy’s gaze flicked from building to building, searching for any sign of movement, any hint of danger.

They were still a long way from the neighbourhoods where he and Laila had grown up, the places where their families had made their homes. But with every step, every breathless dash across an exposed intersection, they were getting closer.

As they turned a corner, Tommy threw up a hand, bringing the group to a sudden halt.

A military patrol was engaging a small knot of zombies, their rifles firing in short, controlled bursts.

Tommy crouched low, watching from the shadows as the soldiers made short work of the undead.

They moved with a grim efficiency, their fire disciplined.

In a matter of moments, the zombies were down, their bodies still on the blood-slicked ground.

The soldiers moved in, dragging the corpses onto the back of a waiting truck with a practiced ease. As they worked, Tommy heard snatches of their muffled conversation, the words distorted by their gas masks.

“…another sector clear…rendezvous at base…maintain quarantine…”

Then, the soldiers were gone, the truck rumbling away into the darkness.

Tommy turned to Zero. “See? They’re trying to protect what’s left of the city, not control it. They’re doing their job, keeping people safe.”

Zero shook his head, his eyes hard. “You’re naive, Tommy boy. This is all part of their plan. The Globalists, the New World Order. They wanted control, and now it’s all spiralling out of their grasp.”

Tommy frowned, but he pushed his retort down, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. They couldn’t afford distractions, not now. Not when they were so close.

He signalled for the others to move out, and they slipped back into the shadows, picking their way through the ruins of the city.

Niamh. Sean. His family. They were so close.

Tommy’s grip tightened on his bat, his eyes darting from doorway to alley, searching for any hint of movement.

Every step was a battle against the fear that clawed at his throat, the dread that coiled in his gut.

As they approached an intersection, Tommy held up a hand.

He peered around the corner, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of the empty street beyond.

He turned back to the group. “Looks clear. Zero, you’re on point. Then Roxy, Jimbo, and Laila. I’ll bring up the rear.”

Zero nodded, his face grim. He hefted his rifle and darted out into the street, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. Roxy followed a heartbeat later, then Jimbo, and Laila.

Tommy took a deep breath, his grip tightening on his bat. He stepped out from the shelter of the buildings, every muscle tensed, every nerve singing.

A guttural moan ripped through the air.

Zombies poured from the alleyways, their rotting faces contorted in snarls of hunger.

Tommy shouted a warning, but it was too late. The zombies were on them, a tide of grasping hands and snapping teeth.

He swung his bat hard, feeling it connect with yielding flesh, the wet crunch of shattered bone.

Roxy hacked with her machete as Jimbo’s golf club caved in skulls with every blow.

The zombies kept coming, an endless wave of putrid flesh. They pressed in from all sides, their sheer numbers threatening to overwhelm them.

Tommy fought with a savage intensity, his every blow fuelled by the desperate need to survive, to protect his friends, to reach his family.

A scream pierced the night.

Tommy whirled just in time to see Zero go down under a crush of zombies.

Zero flailed and thrashed, his rifle knocked from his grasp.

With a roar of fury, Tommy charged into the fray, his bat swinging.

Hands clawed at him, teeth snapping at his flesh, but he ignored them, his focus narrowed to Zero.

Roxy was there beside him, slashing with a berserker’s fury.

Together, they tore the zombies away from Zero.

Jimbo and Laila fought their way to their side.

The last zombie fell, its skull pulped by a vicious blow from Tommy’s bat.

Zero lay on the ground, his chest heaving, his face slick with sweat and gore.

Tommy dropped to his knees beside him, his hands shaking as he checked for bites.

“I’m alright. Just got the wind knocked out of me.”

Tommy sagged, his head falling forward as the adrenaline drained from his system. “Jesus, Zero. I thought…”

Zero managed a weak chuckle, his hand finding Tommy’s shoulder and gripping it tight. “Sorry, Tommy boy. Guess I got a little careless there.”

Tommy shook his head, a mirthless smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well. Don’t let it happen again. I don’t want to have to explain to the others why I had to put a bullet in your brain.”

Zero sobered. “You’d do it, though. If it came to that?”

Tommy met his gaze. “Let’s hope it never comes to that.” He stood, offering Zero a hand and hauling him to his feet.

The others gathered around, their faces drawn and ashen.

“We need to keep moving,” Tommy said. “This way.”

The first hints of dawn crept across the city as Tommy and the others approached the apartment block that had once been his home.

He moved slowly, his steps heavy with exhaustion, his eyes raw from the long night of fighting and running.

The building looked much the same as he remembered, the red brick facade weathered but intact, the windows dark and still.

He glanced behind him, the others trudging in silence, their weapons held at the ready, their eyes scanning the shadows.

They had been through hell together, had fought and bled and nearly died more times than Tommy could count. But now, in the face of this final destination, they seemed to draw into themselves, each lost in their own thoughts, their own fears.

As he approached the building, Tommy held up a hand, bringing the group to a halt. He scanned the area, his eyes searching for any hint of movement.

But the street was deserted, silent.

Tommy took a deep breath, steeling himself.

Then, with a jerk of his head, he led the way up the steps, his heart pounding in his ears with every footfall.

He fished inside his jacket, took out his key, and unlocked the door.

The lobby was dark and silent. Tommy paused on the threshold, his hand trembling as it brushed against the cool metal of the door frame.

How many times had he passed through this door, coming home from a gig or a practice session, his mind buzzing with new riffs and lyrics?

How many times had he bounded up these stairs, eager to see Niamh’s smile, to hear Sean’s laughter?

It all seemed like a lifetime ago now, a dream from another world. A world where the dead stayed dead and the living didn’t have to fight tooth and nail just to see another sunrise.

He forced himself to take a step, then another, his boots echoing on the scuffed tiles.

The others followed.

No one said a word.

But there was no sign of danger, no hint of the horrors that had consumed the world outside.

The mailboxes stood lined up against one wall, the potted spider plants still green and thriving.

It was as if the apocalypse had never touched this place, as if the last remnants of Tommy’s old life had been preserved, waiting for him to return.

He turned to the others. “My apartment’s on the third floor. 33. That’s where they’ll be. If they’re…” He refused to give voice to the fear that had haunted him since the day he left Berkeley.

The fear that he would come home to find an empty apartment, a bloodstained floor.

The fear that his family had been taken from him, just like everything else.

Laila stepped forward, her hand finding his in the gloom. “We’re with you, Tommy. No matter what we find up there. We’re with you to the end.”

The others murmured their agreement.

Tommy nodded, his throat tight. He squeezed Laila’s hand, drawing strength from her warmth.

Then, with a deep breath, he started up the stairs, the others falling into step behind him.

Every footfall seemed to echo in the stillness, each creak of the floorboards a gunshot in the silence.

Tommy’s heart raced as they climbed, his palms slick with sweat on the worn wooden railing, the pain in his ankle driving him forward.

This was it. The moment he had been fighting for, the goal that had driven him across a thousand miles of zombie-infested wasteland. The moment when he would finally learn the truth, finally find out if his family had survived the end of the world.

He paused outside the door to 33, hands trembling as he fumbled with his key.

Tommy closed his eyes, his mind filling with memories. Niamh’s laugh, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. Sean’s chubby hands reaching for him.

But now, standing on the precipice of the truth, he was terrified of what he might find. Terrified that those memories might be all he had left.

He forced himself to take a breath, to steady his racing heart. He turned the key and pushed the door open, stepping into the unknown.