Harem in a zombie apocalypse

[30] Repair

Morning light streamed down, casting long shadows around us as we worked on repairing the jeep. The garage hummed with activity, the scent of engine oil and cool metal hanging heavily in the air. The three of us moved in a well-coordinated dance of sorts - Ms. Yan and I rummaging through piles of spare parts, and Cassidy under the hood of the car, her lithe figure partially obscured by the bulky machine.

"Alternator! Chang!" Cassidy's voice rang out clear and commanding, breaking through the rhythmic clinks and clatters of our makeshift workshop. I could see nothing but the soles of her dusty boots protruding from under the vehicle, yet her confidence was palpable, resonating in every word she spoke.

I rummaged through the greasy pile of spare parts beside me, my hands finally closing around the cold, metal cylinder of the alternator. The device was weighty, its surface stained with remnants of oil and grime, testament to its previous life within the guts of some other mechanical beast.

"Got it!" I called out, extending my arm to pass the alternator to Cassidy. Her hand, smeared with dark grease and dirt, emerged from beneath the vehicle to grasp the heavy device. I could feel the sureness in her grip, a testament to the numerous repairs and restorations she had overseen in the past.

The hours rolled by in a blur of hard work, effort, and a good deal of elbow grease. A layer of sweat and grime accumulated on our faces, the tell-tale sign of the toil we were putting in. The garage was filled with the smell of grease, engine oil, and a tang of determination that hung heavy in the air. Yet there was an undercurrent of excitement and anticipation running through us, driving us forward, keeping our spirits high.

Then, finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Cassidy slipped into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition. The engine coughed to life, a puff of black smoke erupting from the exhaust. It was a throaty, steady growl, a sound that was music to our ears.

"We fking did it! WOOO!" Cassidy's exultant shout reverberated off the concrete walls, filling the garage with an echo of victory. Her face was streaked with grease and dirt, her hair wild and unkempt, but her sapphire eyes sparkled with accomplishment and pure joy.

We exchanged high fives, the sound of our palms meeting echoing in the garage, a symbol of our shared triumph. The feeling of relief, of achievement, surged through me, warming me from the inside out. We were one step closer to reaching our goal, one step closer to surviving this apocalyptic world. And despite the harsh circumstances, despite the challenges we had faced and those that still lay ahead, at that moment, everything felt alright.

Q: Do you personally do handy work?