"All real men must have a favorite recliner"
-Absolutely nobody important
The storm completely ruined any chances of spotting landmarks from afar. Coach could barely see his own fingers, how the hell did they expect him to bring supplies back through this? If they were so desperate for supplies they would have gone with him, but...
Here you are, Coach, he thought, even in a damn zombie apocalypse you do all the heavy lifting. He sighed internally as he trudged through the road, three inches deep in water, guts, dead bodies, and whatever else. He was almost sure he just walked through a small patch of feces. Another reason to hate zombies. The damn shit all over the place. These things must have shit on the go, or sugar mills make neighboring homes naturally fucked up. Coach didn't know, and frankly he didn't care. With three backpacks of medical supplies and ammunition strapped on him, he trudged through the pouring rain. Holy shit, it felt like he was walking for miles, even though the safe house was literally across the street from the mill.
Eventually, the rain died down, and Coach silently thanked God for his first chance to see what was ahead of him. Something that made him stop dead in his tracks.
A large, leather, perfectly untouched recliner.
Wait, what?
Coach examined the chair from every angle. It seemed to have no damage to it whatsoever, save some water, and logic told him it must have been carried out of a house by the heavy downpour. But... why here? He noticed the safe house was not far away, the dim, orange outside light reflecting off the wet pavement, and despite everything looking old, and run down, this chair was perfectly normal.
But what to do with such fine furniture? Any man with a quick thinking head would say to drop off the supplies first and maybe return for the chair if it didn't rain again. But... Coach was Coach. He knew he was probably an idiot. But this was maybe his one chance.
"Coach, what the hell took you so-" Nick stopped dead when he saw Coach grunting under the strain of a large recliner, with supplies stacked on it. "Coach. What the HELL are you doing?!" Coach gave the gambler a look that said 'what do you think' as he set the chair down inside. "The ol' man needs a throne, Nick," Coach said, "and this here's my throne."
He pushed it carefully to the corner of the room, Ellis and Rochelle watching confused and somewhat amused, as Coach gave a mighty sigh as he sat down. Almost immediately, it reclined back, and loud snores came from the old coach. The mechanic turned to Nick with a large grin. "I told ya to go wit 'im," he said, "coulda found yerself an ex-wife."
Nick said nothing, as Coach snored away on the bright red recliner.
What the hell just happened.