Chapter 18: The Smell Of Coffee

The days that followed were quiet, almost eerily so. For the first time in what felt like months, the group found a rhythm, a semblance of peace within the chaos. They had claimed the middle floor of an abandoned hotel as their safe haven. Sammy spent her days reinforcing barricades and checking their supplies, while Maarg and Jack occasionally ventured out to scavenge essentials. Evenings were reserved for card games—something Maarg had insisted on bringing along when everything started to fall apart. It was strange, but it helped them feel human.

Their laughter would echo through the empty halls, momentarily drowning out the groans that still haunted the streets below. These rare, warm moments created a fragile bond between the trio, slowly mending the rifts that had once divided them.

It was during one of their resource runs that Maarg and Jack found themselves cornered once again by a horde. The streets had seemed clear when they left, but as with everything in this new world, danger crept out of nowhere. The boys sprinted through an alley, panting, panic setting in as the undead closed in.

Just when things looked bleak, a figure waved at them from a nearby building—an vintage looking café, still looking as pristine as ever. The man, white-haired and tall despite his frail build, motioned for them to enter. Without a second thought, Maarg and Jack slipped inside, and the man quickly locked the door behind them.

The sudden silence was jarring. The man leaned against the door, catching his breath. He looked at them, kind eyes behind a pair of circular glasses, and said, "Welcome to Blue Angel Café. I'm Gustavo Cappuccino, the owner."

The name matched the weathered sign that still clung to the outer wall.

"You're helping us?" Jack asked, still trying to catch his breath, not fully understanding what had just happened.

Gustavo simply smiled and walked behind the counter. "What goes around comes around. In times like these, doing the right thing is what keeps us human. Besides, I could use some company."

He busied himself with a small portable stove, heating water and grinding what little coffee beans he had left. Within minutes, the aroma of real, fresh coffee filled the air, something neither Jack nor Maarg had experienced in a long time.

Gustavo handed them each a warm cup. "It's weak, but it's real."

Jack took a sip and sighed. "I could cry."

Before they left, Gustavo packed a small box of crushed beans and handed it to Maarg. "Take this. It's not much, but you never know when you'll need a reminder of the old world. It would've been great if you two could stay here. Place gets lonely... but I see you have places to be."

Touched by the man's kindness, the duo promised to return someday. With that, they stepped out of the café and into the cracked daylight.

Their journey back to the hotel took an unexpected turn.

As they rounded a corner near a burnt-down convenience store, they heard strange noises—not groaning, but desperate yelling. What they saw was baffling: about ten zombies had surrounded the base of a large, shaking electric tower. Clinging to the tower, trembling and on the verge of tears, was a man.

"Hey! Help me! Please!" he shouted, arms locked around the tower like it was a lifeline.

The zombies groaned and swayed below, unable to reach him but not giving up.

Maarg and Jack exchanged glances. "What goes around comes around," Jack muttered, recalling Gustavo's words.

They moved quickly. Jack lured a few away while Maarg flanked the group and took them out with surgical precision. In minutes, the street was quiet again.

The man slowly slid down the tower, legs shaking as he touched the ground.

"Thank you… oh my god, thank you," he breathed, trying to compose himself. "Name's Henry. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't shown up."

Jack chuckled. "Probably become zombie chow. You alone?"

Henry nodded. "I was on a scout mission… for my Boss

Maarg stiffened. Jack raised a brow. "Boss?"

"Yeah. I used to be a police officer before all this. Now, I run errands and help secure spots for Cobra's people."

They decided to take him somewhere safe before returning to their hotel. There was only one place nearby that felt right.

They brought Henry back to Blue Angel Café.

Gustavo opened the door again, surprised but welcoming. As Henry stepped inside, Gustavo's expression faltered for the briefest moment. Something in his eyes flickered—recognition? Discomfort?

But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"You look like hell," Gustavo said, gently helping Henry to a chair.

"I've been through worse," Henry muttered, grinning. "Thanks for the help."

Gustavo nodded and brought out a small kit, tending to the man's bruises and scrapes with silent precision. Meanwhile, Jack leaned close to Maarg and whispered, "Did you see his face when Henry mentioned Cobra?"

Maarg nodded slowly. "Yeah. Like he'd heard that name before… and didn't like it."

Something about this calm place now felt more complicated than it appeared.

And the peace they had just started to enjoy might not last for long.