Rom-Com Zombie Apocalypse
Chapter 22: From Zombie Piñatas to Bullet Showers

Chapter 22: From Zombie Piñatas to Bullet Showers

"Vroom, vroom!" everyone was singing.

"V-Vrum, v-vrum," Jake tried, but his voice cracked.

I smirked, the wind whipping past my helmet, making me feel like a badass action hero. Max, sitting behind me, tightened his grip slightly as we sped down the road.

"You know," he said, his voice surprisingly calm despite the fact that the undead was chasing us, "you’re pretty good at this."

I scoffed. "At what? Riding a motorcycle through a zombie-infested city while leading a high-speed chase?"

"Yeah."

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the grin from forming. "Great, I’ll add it to my résumé. Right next to ’Professional Apocalypse Survivor.’"

Behind us, the Jeep tore down the road, Clara swerving around potholes and abandoned cars with a precision I didn’t know she had. Lila was leaning out the window, swinging her wiper like a medieval knight, while Elliot was on the other side, taking swipes at any zombie dumb enough to get too close.

"Do we have an actual plan here?" I shouted over the engine.

Max shrugged. "Survive?"

"Not reassuring!"

Up ahead, the road split into two paths, one leading onto an overpass and the other heading into a tunnel. Both were bad. The overpass could be blocked, leaving us trapped with the horde. The tunnel? Probably pitch-black and crawling with things I’d rather not think about.

I shouted back at Max, "Left or right?"

"Surprise me!"

Ugh. I hated surprises.

I chose left, gunning the engine and veering toward the overpass. The Jeep followed close behind, Clara laying on the horn to keep any stray zombies from wandering into our path.

Then suddenly—something massive burst from a side street with the force of an avalanche.

A wrestler.

Not an actual one, but a charging, mutated zombie the size of a car, muscles bulging under rotting flesh, its jaw stretched unnaturally wide as it bellowed like a bull.

My brain barely had time to process it before it came barreling straight at us.

"OH, HELL NO!" I screeched, yanking the bike’s handlebars to the side.

The bike tilted dangerously, but we dodged, barely.

The wrestler, however, did not stop.

It plowed forward, straight into the Jeep.

The sound of metal crunching filled the air as the Jeep lurched sideways, nearly toppling over from the impact. Everyone inside screamed, and for a split second, I thought it was going to flip.

But then, just as suddenly as it hit, the massive zombie went flying, its own momentum launching it off its feet. It crashed into the corner of the road, landing in a heap of dust and debris.

For a long second, no one spoke.

Then—

Ben, still clutching his seatbelt for dear life, stammered, "Did y’all just see that?! ’Cause I don’t think my brain processed it yet!"

Lila, wide-eyed but trying to act tough, exhaled sharply. "Ain’t no way we just survived that. Ain’t. No. Way."

Elliot, rubbing his face like he needed to wake up from a nightmare, muttered, "I think my soul left my body for a second."

Clara adjusted her sunglasses with shaking fingers. "Yeah, um, next time? Let’s NOT take this route."

Jake, still frozen, managed, "I... I almost peed."

Jake’s reaction was relatable, sure, but did he really need to share that? No one wants to hear about his near-pee moment, I thought to myself.

Alex, gripping her crowbar like she wanted to bash something, growled, "What kind of freak-show mutation was that?!"

Max, who had just survived a near-death motorcycle stunt, chuckled. "That was awesome. Let’s do it again."

I, on the other hand, was not laughing.

I could feel rage boiling inside me, my hands shaking as I gripped the handlebars way too tight.

Clara adjusted her cracked sunglasses with trembling hands. "Next time? Tunnel."

I glared at the motionless heap of the wrestler-zombie in the road. "You’re all welcome, by the way. For not dying."

Max chuckled. "Knew you’d pick the fun route."

"Fun? Fun?!" My grip tightened on the handlebars. "That thing’s the reason my nerves are shot. If I have to fill out one more ’apocalypse hazard report’ in my head—"

A guttural growl cut me off.

The wrestler twitched.

Then it moved—one meaty hand slamming down on the asphalt, cracks spiderwebbing beneath its fingers as it began to rise.

I killed the engine.

"Get off," I said, voice flat.

Max blinked. "What?"

"Get. Off. All of you." I swung off the bike, snatching my broom from Max’s hands. "We’re smacking the shit out of this thing now, or I’m using this on the next idiot who says ’surprise me.’"

The group froze.

Then Alex grinned, hefting her crowbar. "About time."

What followed wasn’t a fight—it was a slapstick comedy.

Lila was the first to charge, her wiper raised high like a sword. "Alright, big guy, let’s see how you like this!" She swung the wiper with all her might, smacking the wrestler-zombie square in the knee. It let out a guttural groan, swaying slightly as if it were offended.

Elliot stepped up next, gripping his bat like he was about to hit a home run. "Back! Back, you overgrown meatball!" he yelled, swinging the bat with a loud thwack against the zombie’s shoulder. The impact made a hollow, cartoonish sound, like hitting a giant rubber tire.

Jake, clutching his blunt sword, hesitated at the edge of the action. "Uh, should I, should I stab it? Or, like, poke it? I don’t think this thing’s sharp enough to—"

"Just hit it!" Alex barked, smashing her crowbar into the zombie’s other knee.

Jake yelped and lunged forward, swinging his sword like he was trying to chop firewood. The blade bounced off the zombie’s arm with a comical clang, and Jake stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to—"

Ben, standing safely behind Clara, raised his hands apologetically. "I’m just gonna... stay here. Sorry, everyone. I’m not really a hitter. i feel they are still... human"

Clara rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, too busy chucking trash or stones at the zombie’s head. One hit with a loud bonk, ricocheting off and nearly hitting Elliot.

"Hey! Watch it!" he shouted, ducking just in time.

I stood back for a moment, broom in hand, watching the chaos unfold. The wrestler-zombie wobbled under the barrage of attacks, its massive arms flailing uselessly as it tried to swat at its attackers. It looked less like a terrifying monster and more like a drunk uncle at a family reunion.

Finally, I stepped forward. "Alright, move over. Let’s finish this."

The group parted like the Red Sea as I approached the dazed zombie. It let out a low, confused growl, its one good eye rolling in its head.

"Listen, big guy," I said, gripping the broom like a baseball bat. "You picked the wrong day to mess with us."

With a grunt, I swung the broom with all my might. The bristles smacked the zombie’s head with a satisfying whack, and it wobbled like a Jell-O mold before collapsing in a heap.

The group stared at the motionless pile of muscle and rot.

"There," I said, tossing the broom back to Max. "Now it’s a problem for the vultures."

Max caught the broom, grinning like an idiot. "Feel better?"

"Marginally," I said, yanking my helmet on. "Next one’s your turn."

Lila wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, her wiper blade dripping black sludge.

Elliot leaned on his bat, panting. "I think I pulled something. That thing was built like a tank."

Jake poked the zombie’s arm with his sword, as if checking to make sure it was really dead. "Uh... should we, like, double-tap it or something? Just in case?"

Alex snorted. "What, you wanna hit it again? Go ahead, champ."

Jake hesitated, then gave the zombie a half-hearted tap with his sword. "There. Just... just in case."

Ben, still standing safely behind Clara, raised his hands again. "Sorry, everyone. I’ll, uh, handle the moral support next time."

Clara adjusted her cracked sunglasses, shaking her head. "Next time, we’re taking the tunnel. No arguments."

As the group piled back into the Jeep and I revved the bike’s engine, I couldn’t help but smirk. The apocalypse still sucked.

But watching a mutant zombie get turned into a piñata?

Kinda worth it.

****

We started driving again. It was after a while when it happened.

BANG!

A gunshot rang out from somewhere above us. A chunk of concrete exploded near my front wheel.

"Sniper!" Max shouted.

I swerved, nearly losing control. The Jeep skidded behind us, Clara cursing loudly.

"Where?!" I yelled.

Max was already looking up. "Top of the billboard! Someone’s got a rifle, and they don’t look friendly!"

Great. As if things weren’t bad enough.

Another shot rang out, this time hitting the road just inches from my tire. Whoever they were, they weren’t missing by accident.

"Tell me we have a plan for this," I muttered.

"Uh... don’t die?"

"Max!"

"Okay, okay! We need cover!" He pointed to a collapsed section of the overpass ahead. "There! Take the ramp down!"

I didn’t hesitate. I yanked the handlebars and leaned into the turn, feeling the bike wobble beneath me before it steadied. We zipped down the rubble, dust and gravel kicking up in our wake.

The Jeep followed, bouncing violently as Clara struggled to control the descent.

"Hang on!" she yelled.

I barely had time to react before the Jeep slammed into the ground behind us, skidding sideways before coming to a rough stop.

We all took a second to catch our breath.

"Okay," Lila huffed, peering out the window. "What the hell was that? Since when do zombies carry guns?"

"They don’t," Elliot said, tightening his grip on his bat. "Which means someone up there doesn’t want us alive."

Max leaned forward, his voice low and serious. "It means we’re in someone’s territory. They probably have some bad experience with outsiders, that’s why they shot in front of us. It’s a warning."

I glanced back at him, my grip tightening on the handlebars. "A warning? They could’ve just yelled ’get lost’ instead of nearly blowing out my tire."

Max shrugged, though his expression was grim. "In the apocalypse, people don’t take chances. If they’re shooting to scare us off, it’s because they’ve been burned before. Probably by raiders or worse."

Clara adjusted her cracked sunglasses, her voice tense. "So what do we do? Turn back?"

Max shook his head. "We can’t. The horde’s still behind us, and we don’t have enough fuel to backtrack. We’ll have to move carefully and hope they don’t escalate."

I sighed, my nerves still frayed from the near-miss. "Great. Just what we needed, another group of trigger-happy lunatics to deal with."

Max gave me a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Welcome to the apocalypse. Where everyone’s either trying to eat you or shoot you."

"Fantastic," I muttered, revving the engine. "Let’s just hope they’re done playing target practice."