Rom-Com Zombie Apocalypse
Chapter 21: Dead Quiet Isn’t Good Quiet

Chapter 21: Dead Quiet Isn’t Good Quiet

Alex’s eyes darted between the empty streets and the rest of us. "This is an opportunity. We need to get to Max’s garage. Now."

I swallowed hard. "Yeah, in a zombie-infested world, zombies disappearing isn’t exactly a bad thing."

No one looked convinced. Even Max, who was technically one of them, seemed uneasy. Clara adjusted her sunglasses, her loose eyeball shifting slightly beneath the lenses. "Right. Because mass zombie vanishings are totally normal and not terrifying at all."

"Less talkin’, more movin’," Lila drawled, her Southern accent thick as she adjusted her wiper. "Ain’t got all day to stand around gawkin’."

Ben nodded, his voice trembling. "Y-Yeah, let’s get a move on."

Alex took the lead, her crowbar resting on her shoulder like she was born to wield it. Max shuffled ahead, his movements slow but deliberate. "Not the main street," he muttered, gesturing with a nod. "Too exposed. Side streets are better. Fewer eyes."

We cut through an alley littered with broken crates and an abandoned shopping cart. Max paused at the mouth of the next street, scanning. The road stretched out before us, eerily deserted, the wind stirring loose papers across the cracked asphalt.

He waved us forward, and we crept ahead. My palms were sweaty against the handle of my broom. Every little sound felt amplified—the scuff of Ben’s shoe against the pavement, the faint rustle of Lila adjusting her backpack, my own uneven breathing.

A soft clank echoed from somewhere to our right.

We froze.

Elliot’s grip tightened on his bat. I swiveled my head, heart hammering. An overturned trash can lay a few feet away, a stray cat peeking out from behind it with wide, glowing eyes.

Jake exhaled shakily. "J-Just a cat. Just a cat."

Max barely spared it a glance. "Come on. This way."

He veered left, leading us through the hollowed remains of what used to be a small bookstore. The shelves were half-collapsed, books scattered across the floor like fallen leaves. My stomach twisted at the sight—so much of the old world, just gone.

Alex nudged my arm. "Focus."

Right. Focus.

We moved through the store, slipping out a side exit into another alley. Max guided us through a maze of backstreets, avoiding the main roads entirely. At one point, we had to climb over a rusted fence, our duct-taped arms making the process way more awkward than it needed to be.

Elliot landed beside me with a quiet grunt. "You know, for an undead guy, Max has excellent navigation skills."

Max smirked. "Bein’ dead don’t mean bein’ stupid."

After nearly twenty minutes of tense, silent travel, we finally spotted the squat, graffiti-covered garage at the end of a narrow street.

Alex exhaled. "Almost there."

We picked up the pace, moving quickly but carefully. The closer we got, the more I expected something to go wrong. The eerie quiet, the missing zombies—none of it sat right with me.

We reached the garage door, and Max dug a key out of his pocket. He fumbled with the lock for a moment before it clicked open.

The second he lifted the door, we rushed inside.

And there it was.

A stunning motorbike.

Sleek, polished, and somehow untouched by the chaos outside. Its deep black paint gleamed under the dim light, accented with streaks of crimson and chrome. The seat was smooth leather, and the engine looked like it could roar to life at any second.

But that wasn’t all.

Parked beside the bike was a Jeep—pristine, shiny, and looking like it had just rolled off the lot.

Ben’s jaw dropped. "Whoa. Max, we didn’t know you had a rich daddy."

Lila whistled, her Southern drawl dripping with sarcasm. "Well, ain’t this a fancy little setup. Y’all been holdin’ out on us, Max."

Max shrugged, his grin widening. "It’s not about bein’ rich. I’ve been maintainin’ this bike my whole life so I could enjoy my days with Clara."

Clara blushed, her loose eyeball shifting beneath her sunglasses. "I thought you just had a thing for bikes."

Max turned to her, his expression softening. "Nah. I only have a thing for you."

The group collectively groaned.

"Get a room, you two," Elliot said, rolling his eyes.

Lila smirked. "Yeah, save the mushy stuff for when we ain’t got zombies breathin’ down our necks."

Alex crossed her arms, her crowbar resting against her shoulder. "Alright, let’s get this thing loaded up. We’ve got supplies to carry and a long way to go."

Elliot tossed his energy drink can into a nearby trash bin. "So, who’s ridin’ shotgun?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Shotgun? On a motorbike?"

He grinned. "Figure of speech. But seriously, who’s ridin’ with who?"

Alex stepped forward, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Mira’s riding the bike. Max, give her a quick rundown. Clara, you’re driving the Jeep. Elliot, Lila, Ben, and Jake, you’re all fitting in the Jeep too. No more walking or running."

Lila smirked. "Well, ain’t that cozy."

Ben raised a trembling hand. "I-I’m not panickin’!"

Jake nodded, his blunt sword clutched tightly. "M-Me neither."

Lila rolled her eyes. "Sure y’all ain’t."

Max handed me the keys, his grin widening. "You ready for this, Mira?"

I stared at the bike, my stomach doing flips. "Uh... sure. Totally ready."

Elliot leaned in, his voice low. "You’re not gonna crash it, are you?"

I glared at him. "I’m not gonna crash it."

"Good. ’Cause I kinda like you alive."

My face heated up, and I quickly turned away, focusing on the bike. Why does he have to say things like that? And why does it make my brain short-circuit every time?

Max stepped closer, his voice calm. "Alright, quick lesson. Throttle’s on the right, brakes on the left and right foot. Lean into turns, and don’t panic if you wobble. Got it?"

I nodded. "I kinda knew it, but okay. Thanks."

He grinned. "You’ll do fine. Just don’t kill us both."

"No pressure," I muttered, swinging my leg over the seat and gripping the handlebars tightly.

Alex clapped her hands, snapping everyone to attention. "Alright, let’s move. We’ve got a long way to go, and I don’t want to be out here when the zombies come back."

We loaded up the bike and the Jeep with supplies, strapping bags and first-aid kits to the sides. Max climbed on the back of the bike, his movements slow and deliberate. I hesitated for a moment before starting the engine, the rumble vibrating through my hands.

Elliot gave me a thumbs-up. "Don’t die."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I muttered.

Clara slid into the driver’s seat of the Jeep, adjusting her sunglasses. "Alright, y’all. Let’s see if I remember how to drive."

Lila climbed into the passenger seat, her wiper resting on her lap. "Just don’t hit anything, Clara. I ain’t in the mood for a crash."

Ben and Jake piled into the back, their weapons clutched tightly. Elliot squeezed in beside them, his bat resting on his shoulder.

The streets were still eerily quiet, the absence of zombies more unsettling than their presence.

As we got ready for the long drive, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder at Elliot. He was unusually quiet, eyes sharp with focus, and for some reason, that was even more distracting than his usual grin. Great. Now my brain was short-circuiting over concentrated Elliot.

But then—

The silence shattered.

A low, guttural groan echoed from behind us. I turned my head, my heart skipping a beat.

A horde of zombies—dozens of them—were sprinting toward us, their rotting limbs flailing as they charged.

"They’re back!" Ben screamed, his voice cracking.

"And they’re fast!" Lila added, her Southern drawl sharp with panic.

Clara slammed her foot on the gas, but the Jeep sputtered, struggling to start. The zombies were closing in fast, their gnarled hands reaching for the vehicle.

"Come on, come on!" Clara muttered, turning the key frantically.

The engine coughed but didn’t catch. The zombies were almost on us now, their guttural growls filling the air.

"Mira, do something!" Clara shouted, her voice tinged with desperation.

I glanced back, my stomach dropping. The horde was dangerously close, their rotting eyes locked onto us.

"Hold on tight!" I yelled to Max, then swerved the bike sharply, cutting in front of the still Jeep. The sudden movement nearly threw us off, but Max’s grip on my shoulders kept us steady.

"What are you doing?!" Max shouted.

"Distracting them!" I revved the engine again, the bike’s roar echoing through the streets. The zombies turned their heads, snapping their attention toward us.

"Oh no," I muttered.

"Oh yes," Max said, his grin widening.

I sped up, weaving through the streets with the horde hot on our heels. The Jeep’s engine finally roared to life, and Clara hit the gas, lurching forward just as a zombie’s hand grazed the bumper.

"Move, move, move!" Clara shouted, her voice tight with panic.

Elliot leaned out the window, swinging his bat at another lunging corpse. "Try that again, I dare ya!"

I twisted the throttle, the bike surging ahead. The wind roared in my ears, and my heart pounded in my chest.

"Vroom vroom!" Max yelled from behind me, his voice gleeful.

"This isn’t the time for joyrides!" I shouted back.

The Jeep followed close behind, Clara honking the horn to split the horde’s focus. Zombies stumbled into one another, some chasing the bike, others clawing at the Jeep.

"THIS IS INSANE!" I screamed over the wind.

"INSANE IS THE NEW NORMAL NOW, WOOOHOOO!" Max yelled back.

As we raced through the streets, the wind tearing at my face and the roar of the engine drowning out the groans of the horde, I realized something: now we were going somewhere unplanned and without any care in the world.

The world might be falling apart, but with this group, I wasn’t just surviving—I was laughing, screaming, and maybe even living. Who knew the apocalypse could feel so... free?