Rom-Com Zombie Apocalypse
Chapter 27: Alex’s Feminine Side

Chapter 27: Alex’s Feminine Side

The gas station was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made your skin itch because you just knew something was about to go down.

Our jeep rolled to a stop with a soft thud of the tires against the cracked asphalt.

The engine’s low hum sputtered to a quiet end as the vehicle came to a complete halt. Alex, sitting in the driver’s seat, wasted no time.

She turned to face us, her expression hard as ever, the weight of leadership etched into her features.

Her eyes flickered over each of us, making sure we were all locked in, ready for whatever came next.

Without a hint of hesitation, she gave the order, her voice sharp and commanding as ever.

"Be quick. In and out. No messing around."

"We will try our best not to slow you down, fearless leader," I said, grinning.

Elliot nudged me with the empty gas can, grinning despite the world around us. "So, when are we drawing the lucky winner for the next bucket list goal?"

I sighed, staring at the warm can. It didn’t feel right picking someone at random, not with our group already cut in half.

Back when we were all together, everything felt safer, easier. But now? It was different. Not fear, but something quieter.

Lonely.

I pushed the thought away. "Let’s think about it after we’re on our comfortable ride," I said, managing a small smile. The jeep always felt like home.

Max and Clara, our designated smart zombies, were already inside the gas station, scavenging for supplies.

Meanwhile, Elliot and I worked on filling the gas can while Alex patrolled the perimeter. Everything was going smoothly, until we heard it.

A scream.

A high-pitched, girly scream that cut through the stillness like a knife. My heart skipped a beat as I exchanged a look with Elliot. Without thinking, we bolted toward Alex’s location, adrenaline surging. Had she been attacked? Was there a new kind of zombie? Had she—

We skidded to a stop.

Alex was on the ground, panting, her face twisted in something between rage and embarrassment.

"What happened?" I asked, breathless.

"It’s... it’s a..." She struggled to get the words out.

"What? What is it?" Elliot pressed, baseball bat at the ready.

She swallowed hard. "A cockroach. A fucking cockroach."

I blinked. Elliot blinked. We both just stood there, processing.

"A... cockroach?" Elliot repeated, like he didn’t trust his own ears.

Alex glared at Elliot, her usual fierce confidence shaken, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she tried to regain her composure.

She looked almost girly, a stark contrast to the battle-hardened survivor we all knew. "You heard me," she snapped, her voice laced with a mix of annoyance and fluster.

It was hard to believe. Not every day did you see our fearless, zombie-slaying, apocalypse-surviving Alex freaking out over a tiny insect.

Elliot, completely unbothered by her reaction, couldn’t resist the tease. "So, let me get this straight. You’ve gone toe-to-toe with zombies, survived countless near-death experiences, but a cockroach is where you draw the line?"

Alex shot to her feet, brushing off her clothes like nothing had happened, trying to look as unbothered as possible. "Shut up."

"Oh, I am absolutely never shutting up about this," Elliot said, his grin widening. It was clear this was his new favorite story.

I, still caught in the absurdity of the situation, stared at her in disbelief. "Wait, wait. Was it, like, a regular cockroach? Or one of those big ones that fly?"

She crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. "It jumped at me."

"Ohhh, okay," Elliot said, nodding like he understood the horror now. "A jumping cockroach. Yeah, that’s fair. Terrifying. Absolutely understandable."

I snorted. "Alex, I hate to break it to you, but I think this is officially going on the bucket list. Face your greatest fear: one (1) cockroach."

I looked around, trying to spot the little creature. "Where’s the cockroach?"

Alex, still blushing with frustration, pointed at the floor near her feet. "There. Right there."

I kicked the offending cockroach away with my foot, sending it skittering off into the shadows.

Even though I was still chuckling, I couldn’t help but notice how cute and embarrassed Alex looked.

She stood there in the middle of the apocalypse, trying to shake off her moment of vulnerability.

Then we hurried toward the gas station, the urgency in our steps driven by Alex’s unexpected outburst.

The last thing we needed was to draw unnecessary attention, especially in a world where silence often meant survival.

The gas station doors creaked as we stepped inside, the smell of stale chips and spilled soda thick in the air.

Shelves were half-raided, wrappers littered the floor, and a faint buzzing sound came from a flickering light near the back.

Max and Clara were already picking through what was left. Max had a box of protein bars under one arm, while Clara rummaged through the fridges for anything remotely drinkable.

"You guys took your sweet time," Max muttered, not looking up. "We were about to come out and check if something ate you."

Elliot snorted. "Oh, something almost did." He shot Alex a mischievous grin. "A real nightmare. Tiny. Has six legs."

Max raised an eyebrow. "A zombie squirrel?"

"A cockroach," I said, smirking.

Max paused mid-motion. Then, as the words sank in, his mouth twitched. Clara, still crouched by the fridge, didn’t even try to hide her laugh.

Alex huffed. "I hate you all."

"We know," Elliot said cheerfully, grabbing a bag of chips off the counter.

Clara tossed a soda bottle into her backpack and turned to us. "Are we good on gas?"

"Just about done," I confirmed. "We—"

The sound of a bottle tipping over behind the counter made us all freeze.

Silence.

We exchanged glances.

Then, a low, wet coo.

I frowned. "What the hell was—"

A blur of gray shot up from behind the counter, wings flapping wildly, knocking over an old display of expired gum.

We all flinched back, weapons up, as the thing crash-landed onto the counter.

It was a pigeon.

A very dead-looking pigeon.

Its feathers were patchy, one eye was missing, and I was pretty sure part of its wing was being held together by sheer spite. It let out another gurgling, undead coo before—

Oh. Oh no.

A second pigeon flopped down beside it.

And then they—

"Oh my god," Elliot whispered, eyes wide. "Are they fucking mating?"

The room fell into absolute, stunned silence as we watched in collective horror.

The first pigeon bobbed its rotting head. The second pigeon fluffed up what was left of its feathers.

And then, with a noise I could only describe as a mix between a death rattle and a loving serenade, the two zombie pigeons went at it.

Max made a strangled sound. "I can’t believe this is what finally breaks me."

Clara turned away. "I’m leaving."

Alex looked physically ill. "I hate this world."

Elliot, meanwhile, was practically wheezing. "We survived the end of the world for this?"

I was trying so hard not to laugh, but my face was already hurting from holding it in.

Then Alex, in a rare moment of complete surrender, muttered, "Someone just kill me now."

And that was it. That was the final straw.

Elliot doubled over, gasping for breath. I lost it completely, gripping the counter to stay upright. The kind of laugh that takes over your whole body, the kind that makes your face hurt, the kind that’s so ridiculous it only makes you laugh harder.

Even Max, the most serious of us all, had his head buried in his hands, shaking with silent laughter.

The zombie pigeons, utterly unbothered, continued their awful, cursed courtship.

Clara finally groaned. "Can we go before I lose my entire will to live?"

I wiped away an actual tear. "Yeah. Yeah, let’s go."

We stumbled out of the gas station, still laughing. And even as we loaded up the jeep, the image of those two things seared into our minds forever, I realized something.

Still, as I tossed the filled gas can into the back of the jeep and climbed into the front seat, something lingered in my mind.

A nagging thought, a question I didn’t want to ask but couldn’t shake.

Wait, so... would zombie pigeons even make zombie babies?" I muttered aloud. "Or would they somehow... have normal pigeons? Like, can the infection be passed on that way, or is it just stuck in their rotting little bodies? I mean, I’m just imagining a whole new generation of... gross. Ugh.

Elliot glanced over at me, brows raised. "Please tell me you’re not thinking too hard about zombie pigeon reproduction."

I shrugged. "You were right, I shouldn’t have thought about it. But now I can’t stop. Will they have little undead pigeon babies or—"

"Okay, Mira, seriously, you’re gonna give yourself nightmares," Elliot said, cutting me off.

I sighed. "Yeah, I know. But it’s not like we have a manual for this stuff."

Maybe the world was ending. Maybe we’d lost people. Maybe things weren’t the same.

But as long as we could still laugh like today, we’d be okay.

Even if it was over zombie pigeon romance.

And just like that, our jeep roared to life and took off into the desolate, zombie-filled world, smiles still stuck on our faces.

The wind whipped through our hair as we sped down the cracked, overgrown road, the faint scent of gasoline lingering in the air.

Even with everything that had happened, it was hard not to feel a little lighter, like the laughter from our earlier moments had somehow pushed back the weight of the world.