Tires spit up pebbles, and a lazy haze trails by. Today is hot and dry. Most days are like today for Schuyler and me. Most days are no different. They comfort me, knowing that tomorrow will be more or less the same. 

We may be too young for the sun to take hold of us. Our sun-soaked skin is sparse with wrinkles or imperfections. But our old truck serves as a near-perfect representation of our conditions. Its forest green paint has withered after years of use in the same dry heat. The once-shiny truck is now matte and caked with dirt on the edges. Today, like all of us, Schyler's truck has its setbacks. It sputters and gives a mighty cough as Schuyler pulls over to the side of the road.

Three years have passed since the outbreak. Schuyler stayed home after graduating high school to support his dad on the farm. I was in my senior year. We had been dating for a while now, give or take a year and a half. Even then, the days blended and made life feel like one continuous effort. But we are happy. 

Our town was not big on holidays, so the extent of festive billboards in the city around Christmas shocked me the first time I went as a child. However, the school kids tried to make the most of the holidays. It was something to look forward to. Valentine’s Day was no exception. This year was the first time Schuyler and I wanted to celebrate. We were still figuring things out the year before. Valentine’s Day was when the outbreak happened. 

We were giddy walking through the meadow on Schuyler’s dad’s farm. It was dusk when we returned to the creaky wooden house. Schuyler was the first to enter, and his face quickly paled. Most of the town became zombies before we knew it. The few unaffected by the event were bright-eyed school-aged kids—the same kids who fumbled over their words to a crush hours ago. Schuyler and I grouped up with them. We mused over the cause. Slowly, we eliminated causes such as fungal or any other sickness we had seen before until one idea rained superior. 

“It’s the relationships. They must be the cause,” one mind determines. 

“What relationships?” another person questions. 

“Our relationships! We all have a partner, right? It only makes sense. Our life became crap on the lover’s holiday. Gracie and AJ were with us on Valentine's Day. They were fine in the beginning, right? They weren’t rotting until they broke up!” the first mind hacks out hysterically. Silence fills the air. No one wants to accept that their peers are gone now. 

Gracie and AJ were a newly established couple in the town. They survived the onslaught of the outbreak but became sickly soon after. It was clear the more distant they became, the worse they got. The ridiculous idea seemed plausible. 

A third member of the group voices in, “But our parents are gone! They were gone before we could say goodbye! They loved each other, right?” The mood changed in an instant. 

I thought about when Schuyler’s face paled. I believed his father was seriously hurt. Schuyler’s mother died before Schyler and I got together. His father has seemed sad since. I never talked to the man before I met his son, but I knew he had lost his motivation to care. Schuyler’s dad made a habit of getting himself hurt with reckless behavior. When I opened the door more to see inside, Schuyler’s father stood there rotting away. The sight made me want to vomit.

I want to yell at my schoolmate, who said broken relationships are the cause. They gnaw at each other’s ideas. Their banter made me realize my schoolmate was not wrong, although the idea made me sick.

My parents were gone by the time Schyuler and I reached them. They fell out of love a long time ago. My parents stayed together only for looks. That is what this town did to people, after all. The town made us give up on our hopes and dreams with time. Those who did not escape town when they were young were bound for the same fate. It made sense: almost all the older adults were gone from day one.

One of my peers deciphers that love is a savior as long as it is fresh and genuine. Another, Johnny, claims the whole idea is ludicrous.

Johnny fell in love at first sight with Veronica. They looked so perfect in the early days of their relationship. However, their love stagnated. Each was selfish toward their relationship. Schuyler and I thought the delayed breakup was why they rotted slower than the rest.

Over time, more people in our group fell victim to the outbreak. Others left for the city. They never came back. Until one day, Schuyler and I were the only ones left.

We learned the idea of love saving us wasn’t completely ludicrous. It cemented itself in the realm of possibility and never disproved itself. So, love became our truth as the days passed. We plan dates and exaggerate our time together to be something more. That seems to work. We surprise each other with canned dinners, calling it our best cooking. We make games out of shooting the walking dead from afar: our romantic Tuesdays. No matter what happens, we keep each other happy. Selflessness has become our legacy. It has kept us together.

Today, we are driving to the city. But the truck is still on the side of the road unmoving. Schuyler fiddles with the key, turning the truck off. He turns to me, “We should sit for a minute. The engine is close to overheating again.” 

“Awe again, babe?” I give a pout and cross my arms from the passenger side. 

“Don’t give me that, you silly girl. You know it’s trying its best. The good guy has gotten us this far.” Schuyler jokes, patting the top of the dashboard. 

“Mmmmh, I think you made plenty of excuses. How about you will the piece of junk to work, Mr. Mechanic?” I let my smile show through the words. 

Schuyler smiles back and shoots an eye roll as he surrenders his hands in the air, “Fine. I will take a look, Miss Smartass.” We give each other small glances of appreciation. It had been a rough few years, yet we have made it. 

Schuyler and I are ready to venture out towards the city. Whatever lies there, we are hopeful. Schuyler turns to open the truck door, and I suddenly speak, “Hey…we are like this truck. Y’know?... If trucks could love.” 

He gives me a curious look, and the smile returns to his face. “Okaaay, but I’m not kicking the bucket any time soon, nerd.”