Hoard-Out

Chapter 6: Loadout? More Like Hoard-Out

If there's one thing I learned from every apocalypse movie, it's that you need weapons.

If there's a second thing I learned, it's that no one ever appreciates the power of a good nail gun.

Seriously, why does no one ever use these? You got a gun that never runs out of ammo (as long as you have nails), it's silent-ish (compared to a real gun), and best of all? It's hilarious watching zombies get pinned to walls like bad DIY projects.

So naturally, I grabbed a nail gun from my garage. And a hammer. Because, y'know, dual-wielding.

But why stop there? This was my garage. My personal stash of random crap I swore I'd use someday. You think I was about to leave any of it behind? Hell no.

Thus began The Great Truck Trunk Tetris™.

Big-Ass Wrench of Justice™ – In case I needed to unscrew the undead.

The Almighty Garden Shears – Because I could trim the enemy numbers down.

Flaming Death Stick (Blowtorch) – Not for zombies, just in case I wanted toast.

Box of Screws – For either barricading doors or throwing at zombies like aggressive confetti.

Random Bag of Zip Ties – Why did I have so many? Who knows. But they felt important.

Jumper Cables – If I ever needed to jump-start my survival instincts.

Fishing Rod – Because nothing screams "apocalypse" like the need for a relaxing hobby.

A Hockey Stick – Not sure why, but it felt like a good melee weapon.

A Bucket – Do I need a reason? It's a bucket.

By the time I finished loading up, my truck's trunk looked like a discount hardware store exploded inside of it.

Now, I know what you're thinking.

"Harley, wouldn't it be smart to sneak away quietly?"

Yes. Yes, it would.

Did I do that?

Absolutely not.

With the confidence of a man who definitely makes good life choices, I got in, jammed the keys into the ignition, and—

RRR-RRR-RRR-ROOOOOOM!

Ah yes, the sweet, beautiful sound of every zombie within a five-block radius knowing exactly where I was.

But wait, it gets better.

See, a normal person would've checked if the garage door was open. Maybe rolled it up first. You know, like a rational human being.

I, on the other hand?

I floored it.

CRRRRRAAAASSHHHHH!!!

Oh yeah, baby. Straight through the garage door like a goddamn action movie.

For a solid five seconds, I felt like a total badass. Smoke. Debris. Sunlight pouring in like I just stepped out of an explosion in slow motion.

Then my brain caught up.

…That garage door cost me five grand.

"...Well. Shit."

And just like that, my glorious action hero moment turned into an immediate financial crisis.

There I was, sitting in my truck, surrounded by garage door fragments, reconsidering every life decision that led me to this moment.

And then, in the distance…

"Hrrraaagggghhhh..."

Right. The zombies.

With an exhausted sigh, I put the truck in gear.

"Guess we're doing this live."

I pressed the gas and drove off into the apocalypse, my wallet forever weeping in the background.