Perkatory: Coffee and Zombies

Jake adjusted the strap of his tactical vest, the morning chill biting through his layers. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, its weak light casting long, jagged shadows over the cracked asphalt of the highway. Beside him, Matthew walked with quiet confidence, scanning the road ahead. The occasional groan of a distant zombie was the only sound that punctuated the eerie silence.

"How far are we from the coffee grower?" Jake asked, his voice low but clear.

Matthew glanced at a hastily drawn map. "Two more days if we keep up this pace. That's assuming nothing slows us down."

Jake grunted, his grip tightening on the hilt of his combat knife. "Something always slows us down."

Matthew shot him a wry smile. "Ever the optimist, huh?"

Jake chuckled under his breath. "Just calling it like I see it. How are you holding up?"

"Fine," Matthew replied, his eyes scanning the roadside ruins. "The System hasn't given me any warnings yet. That's good news."

"Let's hope it stays quiet," Jake muttered. His senses were honed, and every muscle in his body coiled like a spring. "Still, keep your guard up. These roads… they're never as empty as they look."

As if on cue, a faint scuffling noise reached their ears. Both men froze. Jake raised his hand in a silent signal for Matthew to stop. They stood motionless, their ears straining to pinpoint the source of the sound.

"Alleyway ahead," Matthew whispered, nodding toward a narrow gap between two crumbling brick buildings.

Jake nodded. "Stay close."

They moved cautiously, their footsteps silent against the cracked pavement. As they approached the alley, the noise grew louder—a wet, guttural chewing sound accompanied by the occasional groan. Jake peeked around the corner, his eyes narrowing as he entered the scene.

Five zombies were huddled around the remnants of what had once been a person. The corpse was unrecognizable, torn apart in a frenzy of decay and hunger. The zombies were so engrossed in their meal that they hadn't noticed the two men.

"Five of them," Jake whispered. "Tight quarters. This'll get messy."

Matthew nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his machete. "We can't let them roam. If they wander onto the highway…"

"I know," Jake said, his voice grim. "We take them out fast. You go left. I'll take the right. Aim for the head. No mistakes."

Matthew's lips quirked in a faint smile. "Mistakes aren't really my thing."

"Good," Jake replied. "Let's keep it that way."

They moved as one, slipping into the alley with practiced ease. Jake struck first, his combat knife plunging into the skull of the nearest zombie. The creature collapsed without a sound, its body crumpling to the ground. Matthew followed suit, his machete slicing cleanly through another zombie's neck. The head hit the pavement with a dull thud, rolling to a stop against the wall.

The remaining zombies turned, their milky eyes locking onto the intruders. A low growl rumbled from one of them, and they lunged.

Jake sidestepped the first attacker, his reflexes a blur. He slammed his elbow into its face, shattering bone and cartilage, before finishing it off with a swift stab to the temple. Behind him, Matthew swung his machete in a wide arc, severing the arm of another zombie before driving the blade through its skull.

"Three down," Jake muttered, his breath steady despite the exertion.

"Two to go," Matthew replied, his tone almost conversational. "You ever miss traffic jams?"

Jake raised an eyebrow, his knife poised as the fourth zombie stumbled toward him. "Traffic jams?"

Matthew shrugged, sidestepping the last zombie's clumsy swipe. "Yeah. Sitting in a car, complaining about being late. Felt annoying at the time, but now? Kind of miss the normalcy."

Jake chuckled, driving his knife into the zombie's skull. "Can't say I've thought about it much. Guess I've been too busy trying not to get eaten."

Matthew grinned, his machete slicing through the final zombie's neck. "Fair point. But still… wouldn't mind a bad commute right about now."

With the last zombie dispatched, the alley fell silent. Jake wiped his knife on his pant leg, glancing at Matthew. "You're a strange guy, you know that?"

Matthew shrugged, sheathing his machete. "Takes one to know one."

Jake couldn't help but laugh. It was a rare sound, rough and unpolished but genuine. "Fair enough."

They paused to catch their breath, leaning against the alley's brick wall. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air, but they'd long since grown used to it.

"What about you?" Matthew asked after a moment. "Anything you missed before all this?"

Jake's expression darkened slightly. He looked away, his gaze distant. "Quiet mornings," he said finally. "Sitting on my porch with a cup of coffee. Watching the sunrise. No noise, no chaos. Just… peace."

Matthew nodded, his tone thoughtful. "Yeah, I can see that. There's something about those moments. Makes you feel… human."

"Exactly," Jake said. He glanced at Matthew, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Guess that's why we're doing this, huh? Trying to hold on to whatever pieces of humanity we've got left."

Matthew chuckled softly. "Never thought I'd risk my life for coffee, but here we are."

"It's not just coffee," Jake said, his tone serious. "It's hope. Connection. Something worth fighting for."

Matthew studied him for a moment, then nodded. "You're right. And if we make it to CoffeeGrower42, maybe we'll have a little more to fight for."

Jake straightened, sliding his knife back into its sheath. "Then let's keep moving. The sooner we get there, the better."

The rest of the day passed in a tense rhythm of walking, scouting, and avoiding danger. They encountered more zombies—solitary wanderers and small groups—but nothing they couldn't handle. Each encounter reinforced the unspoken bond between them. Their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance.

By the time they found shelter in an abandoned gas station, they were exhausted but oddly energized. They set up a small camp in the back room, the flickering light of a battery-powered lantern casting long shadows on the walls.

As they ate their meager rations, Jake glanced at Matthew. "You're good out there. You've got instincts. Makes it easy to trust you."

Matthew looked up, surprised. "Thanks. Means a lot coming from you. You're not so bad yourself, you know."

Jake smirked. "Not so bad? That's the best you've got?"

Matthew laughed, the sound lightening the mood. "Alright, fine. You're a damn good partner. Happy now?"

Jake chuckled. "Close enough."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the weight of the day settling over them. Despite the dangers, Jake felt a rare camaraderie that only came from relying on someone in life-or-death situations. The gas station's dim lantern light flickered, casting eerie shadows across the walls, but for the moment, the two men found solace in each other's company.

"You think we'll find them?" Matthew asked eventually, breaking the silence.

"CoffeeGrower42?" Jake replied, leaning back against the wall. "Yeah, I think so. They seemed serious about the trade. And if they've survived this long, they're probably resourceful."

Matthew nodded thoughtfully. "It's strange, isn't it? How little things like coffee plants suddenly feel like they mean the world?"

Jake smiled faintly. "Not so little, though. Coffee is more than just a drink to some people. It's a ritual. A connection. Something to ground you when everything else feels like it's falling apart."

Matthew tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "You speak from experience?"

Jake's smile widened. "Maybe. Used to be my thing, you know? A quiet cup of coffee in the morning. Took my time brewing it, too. Made sure it was just right. It wasn't about the caffeine—though that helped. It was about… starting the day on my terms."

"Sounds peaceful," Matthew said. "What kind of coffee?"

"Black. Always," Jake answered without hesitation. "Strong and simple."

Matthew chuckled. "Figures. You strike me as the no-nonsense type."

"And what about you?" Jake asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's your guilty pleasure?"

"Oh, I've got plenty," Matthew said with a grin. "But if we're talking drinks, it's gotta be a caramel macchiato. Extra caramel. Basically, a dessert in a cup."

Jake shook his head, laughing softly. "Of course it is."

"Hey, don't knock it until you try it," Matthew retorted. "Just because you're all stoic and rugged doesn't mean you can't enjoy a little sweetness."

Jake's expression softened. "Maybe one day. If we ever get out of this mess."

The mention of the apocalypse cast a shadow over their conversation, but it didn't extinguish the warmth that had grown between them. For a brief moment, they allowed themselves to dream of a future where life could return to something resembling normalcy.

The following day, they set out before sunrise. The air was crisp and heavy with the scent of damp earth. As they moved south, the terrain shifted from the open expanse of highways to a maze of narrow streets and overgrown suburban neighborhoods. The eerie quiet was occasionally broken by the distant groans of the undead or the rustle of wind through the trees.

By midday, they reached a densely packed industrial district. The area was a labyrinth of crumbling warehouses and tight alleyways, offering both potential cover and the risk of ambush. Jake's senses were on high alert, his body tense with anticipation.

"Feels like a trap," he muttered, scanning the area.

Matthew nodded. "Agreed. Let's stick to the open areas as much as we can. Fewer corners to get blindsided from."

They moved cautiously, their footsteps muffled against the cracked pavement. The air felt heavy, with an unspoken tension that set Jake's nerves on edge. He exchanged a glance with Matthew, who seemed equally uneasy.

They were halfway through the district when a low growl froze them in their tracks. Jake spun, his knife in hand, as three zombies emerged from a shadowed doorway. Their movements were jerky but deliberate, their milky eyes fixed on the two men.

"Three on our six," Jake said quickly. "And I hear more."

Matthew turned to face the opposite direction, where two more zombies were shambling toward them from a narrow alley. "Make that five. Tight quarters again."

"We've done it before," Jake said, his voice steady. "Same plan?"

Matthew nodded. "You go left, I'll take right."

Jake didn't waste time. He lunged at the nearest zombie, his knife flashing in the dim light as he plunged it into its skull. The creature crumpled, and Jake turned to the next one without hesitation. His movements were precise, almost mechanical, a testament to his training and experience.

Beside him, Matthew fought with equal efficiency, his machete slicing through the air with deadly precision. Despite the chaos, their movements were synchronized, an unspoken rhythm guiding their actions.

"You know what I miss?" Matthew asked his voice light despite the strain of combat.

Jake grunted as he dispatched another zombie. "What?"

"Movie nights," Matthew said, sidestepping a zombie's lunge. "Popcorn is a terrible rom-com, and no worries except whether the protagonist will get the girl."

Jake barked a laugh, his knife slicing through the final zombie's temple. "Rom-coms? Really?"

"Don't judge me," Matthew replied, grinning as he wiped his machete clean. "You've got your coffee rituals; I've got my guilty pleasures."

Jake shook his head, a rare smile playing on his lips. "Fair enough."

The alley fell silent once more, the only sound of their heavy breathing as they surveyed the aftermath. Five bodies lay sprawled on the ground, their grotesque forms a stark reminder of the world they now inhabited.

"Good work," Jake said, clapping Matthew on the shoulder. "Let's keep moving. We're getting close."

Matthew nodded, his expression serious but hopeful. "Yeah. Let's finish this."