Harem in a zombie apocalypse

[90] Record

We had grown accustomed to the rhythm of our actions, the collection of items, the constant scanning for potential threats, that it was almost startling when I broke the silence with a question. The words hung heavy in the air as Kaya paused, her eyes never leaving her task at hand, her focus unwavering.

"What?" she asked, her tone even, as though my sudden question was just another background noise in this topsy-turvy world.

I took a deep breath, my gaze moving from the wreckage of a store around us to her. "Why did you come with us this far when you could have stayed with your tribe?" The question had been on my mind for a while now. It was not as if Kaya didn't have options. She was a formidable warrior, a skilled shooter, a woman who could hold her own. Her tribe would have welcomed her back with open arms, yet she chose to stay.

"Like I said, I don't like owing debts," she replied, her voice steady, the simplicity of her answer echoing the raw honesty of her character. Her hands didn't falter as she continued with her task, efficiently filling her bag with whatever she deemed valuable.

"But didn't you repay it already?" I asked, my brow furrowed. In my eyes, she had repaid whatever she thought she owed us a hundred times over with her unflinching courage and relentless resilience.

Her hands stopped their motion as she finally looked at me, her deep brown eyes meeting mine. "After you saved me from that creep Al's house, I only ended up owing you more." There was a seriousness in her voice that left no room for argument, a fierceness that spoke volumes about her sense of honor.

The confession hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken words and unseen emotions. Kaya saw her survival, her life as a debt to us, a debt she was determined to repay no matter what. It was humbling, and at the same time, it spoke volumes about her character.

"You don't owe me anything, Kaya," I found myself saying, wanting to alleviate this self-imposed burden from her.

Her gaze hardened as she looked at me, her stance firm, a fire in her eyes. "You don't get to tell me what to do. I make my own decisions," she retorted, her tone final, leaving no room for further discussion.

As we walked forth we stumbled across a record store, a strange, poignant sense of nostalgia seemed to hang in the air. Amid the lingering smell of dusty vinyl and old paper, the wreckage of what once was a music lover's paradise, Cassidy's eyes instantly lit up with an excitement we hadn't seen in a long time.

She was the first to rush in, her eyes wide with anticipation, her hands eager to flick through the jumbled array of CD cases and vinyl records. "Oh, this is a gold mine!" she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the store.

And then she started to list off some of her favorite rock and roll bands, her words a string of familiar and not-so-familiar names that flowed like music from her lips. "The Rolling Stones, AC/DC, Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd... they're all classics," she told us, her hands expertly skimming through the albums, pulling out CD after CD with a reverence that told us just how much she cherished this music.

As we watched Cassidy work her way through the store, her enthusiasm was infectious. She moved with a lightness, a vitality that the hardship of our journey had all but erased. She was no longer just a survivor in a post-apocalyptic world, but a girl reveling in the music she loved.

I caught Kaya's eye and saw a mirrored fascination. The usually stoic woman, who never seemed to allow herself moments of frivolity, was watching Cassidy with a soft smile. For a moment, we all allowed ourselves to be swept up in the simple joy of finding something familiar, something comforting in a world that had lost all semblance of normalcy.

At one point, Cassidy pulled out an album, clutching it close to her chest as though it were a treasured relic. "This one's 'Stairway to Heaven' by Led Zeppelin. It's a masterpiece," she said, her voice soft with reverence.

Holding the AC/DC album in her hands, Cassidy took a moment to examine it, her fingertips gently tracing the vibrant cover. The album was 'Back in Black', an iconic classic that even I had heard of before. The stark, black cover with the band's logo emblazoned across it was a bold statement, much like the band's music itself.

"Oh man, this one is legendary!" Cassidy exclaimed with a broad grin. "AC/DC's 'Back in Black'. This one was released in 1980, and it's one of the highest-selling albums of all time."

She then proceeded to take us on a detailed tour of the album, each song a unique story. She explained how the album was a tribute to the band's former lead singer, Bon Scott, who tragically passed away. The decision to make an album so full of life, energy, and relentless optimism was a brave step, turning grief into a powerful motivation.

"Every track in this album is a gem," she continued, her voice full of admiration and respect. "From 'Hells Bells' with its ominous church bell intro, to 'You Shook Me All Night Long', which is, quite possibly, one of the greatest rock and roll songs ever recorded."

As she spoke, her hands were animated, the album clasped firmly between them as if it was a precious artifact. She described the band members, their roles, their unique contributions. She painted a vivid picture of AC/DC's powerful performances, the way they commanded the stage, their ability to stir a crowd into a frenzy.

But it was more than just the facts and the trivia. Cassidy's account was imbued with her passion for the music, her admiration for the band, and the impact their music had had on her own life. She spoke of the raw energy, the rebellious spirit, the uncompromising dedication to the pure, unadulterated sound of rock and roll.

"I love how AC/DC's music is all about liberation, freedom, and just letting go," she said, her eyes shining with excitement. "Their music makes you want to throw your hands up in the air, bang your head, and forget all your worries. It's pure, unadulterated fun."

She finished her impromptu presentation with a satisfied sigh, cradling the album with a smile that spoke volumes. To Cassidy, this wasn't just an album; it was a piece of history, a symbol of a time before the world fell apart. A reminder that even in our grim reality, joy and music still had their place.

Cassidy then saw a radio sitting on the desk. She pressed the play button a few times, and nothing happened. Just as she was about to open the lid, the speakers of the old radio blared to life, the hard-hitting drum beats of AC/DC's 'Hells bells' echoing loudly throughout the desolate mall. The sound vibrated off the walls, sending a jolt of panic through my system. Cassidy, wide-eyed and in shock, fumbled with the controls, but in the moment of surprise, her hands seemed to lose their deftness.

We're fked.

Q: Do you buy CD's from record stores?