Sturniolo Triplets - Zombie Apocalypse

Epilogue

1 year later

The sun hung low in the sky, its warm rays caressing the earth, painting the world in hues of gold and amber.

Matt was sitting outside on the porch of their cabin, in a fancy new rocking chair Nick and Chris managed to build. He was out enjoying the last sunrays of the day, the fresh mountain air and the wonderful colours of his favourite season painting the nature around him.

He closed his eyes, the sounds of nature relaxing him further – birds chirping, the distant rush of running water, ... For a moment, there was no past riddled with terror, no present weighted by loss, no future full of uncertainty, just the simple, pure chorus of life continuing around him.

But peace was a rare visitor, and it was always too fleeting. His tranquillity shattered as Chris's voice, laced with annoyance and volume that could wake the dead, burst through the serenity. Eyes snapping open, a smirk already playing on his lips, Matt turned towards the commotion.

"You wouldn't recognise a furrow if it hit you in the face, Nick!" Chris's voice was a familiar tune of mock outrage, and Matt could picture the indignant expression that surely accompanied it.

Nick followed in Chris's wake, his retort hot on his heels. "It did hit me in the face, oh wait, no, that was you! And you wouldn't know the first thing about ploughing! You're just turning over dirt, not making rows!"

Matt's smile broadened into a grin as he watched his brothers approach. Their bickering was the music of a normal life, he'd never take it for granted again. He felt a wave of gratitude so strong it almost choked him. They were together; they were alive.

But he had to play his part, now didn't he? "Will you two shut it?" Matt called out, his tone holding a lightness that danced with the remnants of laughter. "You're scaring away the peace and quiet." He motioned to them for help.

Chris reached him first, his hands gently slipping under Matt's arms to help him up. The warmth of his brother's touch was a silent vow of support. Nick was there too, handing over the crutches with a sheepish smile that acknowledged the interruption of Matt's solitude.

Matt gripped the crutches, the familiarity of the motion proof of the resilience he had built over the months. Each step was a reminder of what had been sacrificed and what had been gained. The cabin, their haven, was now a world away from the chaos and death they had left behind.

As he moved inside, followed by his brothers, a profound sense of contentment settled over him. Getting around might have been more difficult since losing a leg, but he never regretted it for a second; it was a small price to pay for this life they now shared.

In the simple act of living – of arguing about gardens, of supporting each other, of rebuilding – they were reclaiming their humanity, piece by piece.

They were together. And they'd be okay.