DS Chapter 8

The ruckus we’d made with the dump truck attracted a persistent horde of zombies that relentlessly chased after us.

As we drove along, we ended up on the eastern road. It was a wide road leading toward the big city, passing by a large grocery store and a gas station. That’s when we spotted people occupying the grocery store.

Even from a distance, I could sense they weren’t happy about us leading a pack of zombies their way.

The people at the grocery store were on high alert, guns aimed in our direction, probably worried we’d bring the zombies into the parking lot. It seemed like trying to get into that store wasn’t an option.

Once we gained speed on the open road, we finally managed to shake off the zombie horde.

With the road quiet again, Logan brought the truck to a stop. He rolled down the window and leaned out.

“You doing okay back there?”

“Barely hanging on…”

I had been terrified the whole time, thinking zombies might manage to climb into the truck bed. Logan climbed out of the driver’s seat and into the back with me.

He was dressed in mechanic overalls. Had he taken a nice break at the garage? I’d been on the verge of a nervous breakdown, while he looked fresh and calm. My annoyance started to simmer.

“Why were you so late?” I demanded.

“The truck was still undergoing repairs at the garage. Took a bit longer to finish.”

Fine. That was a decent excuse.

“I also brought some useful stuff from the garage.”

A pile of boxes was stacked in the corner of the truck bed. Curious, I checked to see what he’d hauled.

Oil, engine fluid, power tools, overalls, camping gear, and even a coffee machine—seemed like he grabbed everything he could find.

“How do you plan on using a coffee machine without electricity?”

“We might find a generator someday. Better to have it ready when we do.”

Even if we got a generator, would we know how to use it? I shook my head and opened the bag of food supplies.

“I’m starving. Let’s eat something first.”

“Are you good at cooking?”

“Of course not.”

Thanks to Logan’s stash of camping gear and a gas burner, we could finally have a decent meal after what felt like forever. We set a pot on the fire and grilled some meat.

It wasn’t anything like the fancy steak you’d get at a restaurant, but as long as it didn’t burn, I’d consider it a success.

We threw in some butter and potatoes, grilled rye bread, and topped it with cheese. They say hunger is the best seasoning, and even this haphazard meal felt like a Michelin-worthy dish.

I ate so fast that I suddenly realized I’d forgotten to ration the food. I licked my fingers in regret.

“We should be saving this…”

“Let’s just eat our fill today.”

“Yeah, I guess we deserve that.”

I grinned, my lips slick with grease, and when Logan saw my face, he couldn’t help but smile too.

The back of the dump truck had become our new hideout. We ate, slept, and exchanged silly jokes, momentarily forgetting about the zombies.

It felt oddly comforting, like when we used to play camping under the blankets as kids—warm and cozy.

Lying side by side, we stared up at the stars scattered across the night sky. My stomach was full, sleep was tugging at my eyelids, the night breeze was cool, the stars twinkled, and my heart raced.

“I think we’re going to survive the longest. We have the indestructible dump truck, after all.”

Logan, who had his eyes closed, let out a soft chuckle.

“The truck guzzles fuel, though. Once we run out of gas, it’s just a heap of scrap metal.”

“Ugh, I thought we were going to be unstoppable… Guess we’ll start raiding gas stations tomorrow.”

I started thinking about how we could secure enough fuel to keep the dump truck running. Raiding every gas station we passed? As I was mulling over ways to keep our comfy, trusty truck around for as long as possible, Logan suddenly spoke.

“I’m raiding a gun store first. I need as much ammo as I can carry. I’m going to shoot every zombie I see until they’re all gone.”

There was anger in his voice, as if he had a personal vendetta against the zombies.

For me, zombies were just terrifying, disgusting, and something I feared. I fought them because they attacked me, but I didn’t have the kind of burning rage Logan seemed to carry.

After all, zombies had once been human. They were people who got infected with a strange virus and ended up like that.

Still, I understood Logan’s feelings.

‘He probably lost his parents to the zombies…’

Logan had never mentioned his parents, not even once. I assumed they had been killed by the zombies.

His father must’ve been at the garage, and his mother likely at home… He had been alone when he fled the garage and woke me up.

If I had lost someone precious to me because of the zombies, I’d probably feel that same boiling anger.

“Alright, then. Just make sure you grab a gun for me too. I’ll help you fight until every zombie is gone.”

“You’re not just going to waste bullets?”

“No way, I think I’d be pretty good at it.”

“You’re not even athletic.”

“Shooting has nothing to do with athleticism. It’s all about focus and calm. I’m great at focusing. Didn’t you know that?”

“Hmm…”

“I’m serious.”

I decided to support Logan until he could work through his anger and grief.

Maybe we could be the ones to save this world, now completely wrecked by zombies. Surviving day by day was just too grim, too painful, and too dull.

If we had some strange sense of duty to cling to, maybe we wouldn’t feel so hopeless. Maybe it would make us want to keep living, even in a world like this.

A sudden idea struck me, and I whipped my head toward Logan, catching sight of his handsome profile.

“How about ‘Red Blood’? As the name for our two-person zombie extermination squad.”

“That name is so cheesy, it’s giving me chills.”

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed, and he shuddered in disgust, his shoulders even trembling.

“What’s wrong with ‘Red Blood’? Doesn’t it sound like a rock band?”

“Not at all.”

“Actually, I didn’t need your approval. I already decided.”

“Please, spare me.”

Logan had no sense of romance. He didn’t used to be this emotionally dry, or so I thought.

When we were kids, we loved role-playing. I was always the Captain, and he was the Hulk—our reasoning was simple. I was smart and pretty, so I got to be Captain, and he was big and strong, so he had to be the Hulk.

But whenever we actually started fighting, the Hulk always won. I’d cry, insisting that Captain was supposed to win, that we were the best, and Logan would just run off, saying it wasn’t fun to play with me when I acted like that. What a coward.

That was back when we were still close, before things changed. Logan probably doesn’t even remember.

* * *

In the end, we raided the gun store, and from that day on, we started killing zombies in droves.

With hundreds of rounds of ammunition stocked in the dump truck, we hunted every zombie we came across.

It wasn’t just hunting—it felt like cleaning up the city. No guilt, just pure fun. There was a thrilling rush that came with each kill.

We made bets on who could take down more zombies, and even when we recognized familiar faces, we didn’t hesitate to aim our guns.

I took down the ice cream shop owner the moment I spotted him again. It was better to put him out of his misery than to let him wander the streets in that state.

I made sure to give him a clean headshot. ‘You should be grateful, and maybe in your next life, don’t harass your employees.’ I offered a light-hearted prayer for him.

Unfortunately, we never found my parents.

But we didn’t find them as zombies, either, which meant they were still out there, hiding somewhere. I wasn’t ready to give up hope just yet.

That day, we drove the truck back toward the city. Our goal for the day was to each kill fifty zombies.

The bright blue sky, the wide open fields, and the long, straight road stretched out before us. If you could ignore the abandoned wrecked cars along the way, it felt strangely refreshing.

“Hey, you guys! Running low on food? Need us to share some?”

One of the survivors from the grocery store spotted our yellow dump truck and waved at us energetically.

We’d become quite famous among the Camden survivors for clearing out zombies wherever we went.

With the loud truck drawing the zombies away, survivors felt safe enough to leave their homes to search for supplies when we were around.

Sometimes, we saved people from dangerous situations or shared food. Logan had even used his mechanic skills to fix six broken-down cars.

The Camden Yellow Dump Truck Rescue Crew. It gave me a strange sense of pride.

“We’re good! We’ll come by next time!”

“Alright! Keep up the good work!”

Ah, how beautiful it is, exchanging kind words and encouragement in a world that’s fallen apart. It made me feel like, maybe, someday, all the zombies would be gone, and things would return to normal.

“Didn’t Mrs. Lenin say she’s out of medication? Should we kill some zombies and check out a pharmacy?”

“It’s deeper in the city. I don’t know if we can drive the truck all the way there.”

“If we can’t, we’ll have to pass. We can’t risk our lives for her meds.”

Our lives were more valuable than Mrs. Lenin’s blood pressure pills. We only helped others when we knew it wouldn’t put us in too much danger.

Logan shrugged lightly.

“Still, we might need meds ourselves one day. Might be worth it to raid the pharmacy.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

So, that was the plan for the day—kill some zombies and raid a pharmacy.

Afterward, we’d come back and have a dinner of pasta loaded with cheese, maybe a glass of wine. It sounded like a pretty nice evening.

The night before, Logan and I had some beers. I didn’t drink much because warm beer is awful, but he gulped it down like water.

After that, drunk Logan couldn’t stop giggling, laughing himself to sleep like air had gotten trapped in his lungs. He looked so serious and sharp when he wasn’t smiling, but when he laughed, he was adorable, like a puppy.

It was nice to see him returning to his old self, bright and carefree, after all the silence and seriousness of the zombie apocalypse. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, feeling strangely light and at ease.

Caught up in the moment, I impulsively kissed him. I tried to play it off as an accident, pulling away immediately, but Logan grabbed the back of my head and didn’t let go.

Our lips brushed, then our tongues tangled together, sending fireworks exploding in my head. Logan was a way better kisser than I had imagined. I couldn’t help but think he must have had plenty of experience with girls.

That goofy, innocent smile—when did he grow up so much? The little rascal. Well, I couldn’t complain, especially since it left me tingling all over, wetting my underwear.

So maybe tonight, after some wine… Just thinking about it made my mouth dry up, and I started fanning my face to cool down.

Logan glanced over at me from the driver’s seat, his eyebrow raised at my flushed face.