Zombie Horde of Fairhaven Snapback Trucker Hat

The first shuffling footstep came just after dusk, when the last of the sun’s glow bled out of the sky. At first, the sound seemed harmless—like a lost animal or the creak of a barn door swinging in the wind. But then came another, and another, until the night itself seemed to groan with the weight of hundreds of dragging feet. From the treeline, shapes began to emerge: pale figures, slack-jawed and lurching forward with a hunger that could never be satisfied. The town of Fairhaven, quiet and unassuming, had never seen such a thing in all its years.

At the edge of town, Samuel Miller stood on his porch clutching an old hunting rifle. His breath frosted in the cool air as his heart pounded. He had heard the rumors for weeks—tales of sickness spreading through the neighboring counties, of men and women who rose from their deathbeds to stalk the living. He hadn’t wanted to believe it. But as the horde pressed forward, a sea of lifeless eyes catching the moonlight, denial was no longer an option. Fairhaven had become their next feast.

The first houses fell in silence. Families barely had time to scream before their doors were torn from hinges and the dead poured inside. The horde moved as one organism—slow but relentless, a tide that could not be reasoned with or fought off by mere locks and walls. Fires kindled where desperate townsfolk tried to burn them back, but the smoke only lit the nightmare brighter. In the chaos, Samuel saw his neighbors fleeing down the main road, children clutched tight in their arms, the sound of weeping and gunshots mixing into a dreadful chorus.

Samuel knew running would only delay the inevitable. Instead, he climbed to the roof of his home, rifle ready, and began picking off the creatures one by one. Each shot rang through the night, echoing across the rooftops, but for every body that fell, three more took its place. Still, he refused to stop. His stand became a beacon for others—those who had not yet fled gathered near his house, forming a ragged circle of resistance, their courage stoked by his defiance.

But courage has its limits. As dawn crept over the smoking ruins, the horde surged with renewed hunger. Samuel’s rifle clicked empty, and his trembling hands fumbled with the last of his ammunition. The dead pressed closer, clawing up the walls, their fingers curling over the shingles like roots claiming stone. He swung the rifle like a club, snarling against the tide, but the wave broke over him at last. Samuel disappeared beneath a writhing mass of hands and teeth. The survivors who fled into the hills would remember his final stand not as a victory, but as a sacrifice—the last light of Fairhaven swallowed whole by the endless hunger of the dead.

YUPOONG CLASSICS RETRO SNAPBACK TRUCKER CAP 2-TONE

• Trucker cap with premium mesh panels
• Matching plastic snapback closure
• Matching under visor, 8-row stitching on visor

Leatherette is richly textured, water resistant, easy to clean, and durable enough for the rigors of daily use.