I suppose you never really know who your friends are until you're all sitting together in a living room and there's a lull in the conversation. What pops into your head? Abraham Lincoln? What on earth did I get on my shirt? It was a sunny winter afternoon and Kellyn said, "So . . . I've thought about what would happen if there were zombies. I have a plan." I hardly had a chance to process the ellipses forming in my brain before Sarah followed up with, "Yeah, me too." Apparently I have lived a sheltered life. A life in which I have never had to worry or prepare for the oncoming threat of the evil undead. I never even realized that this was an eventuality that I should be contemplating. But Sarah and Kellyn? They're ready.
Kellyn's plan involved being on high ground near the train depot (giving her a good lookout for the approaching corpses) and hunkering down. From there, the conversation turned to the best ways of killing zombies . . .
. . . and then Kellyn mentioned she also had a plan in place in case of a nuclear apocalypse. Not being one to ignore valuable resources, their names in my cell phone were changed to "In Case of Zombies" and "In Case of Armageddon".
But this was just the beginning of the zombie infestation. One moment Kellyn, Sarah, and I careened around giant mushrooms playing Mario Kart, and the next I held a plastic gun in my hand and stared at the logo for House of the Dead. You've probably seen this game in an arcade. Blue and red plastic guns, pictures of rotting corpses dripping in green gore, and "Insert Coin to Play" blinking at you. I gave saving the world a mighty effort, but didn't even make it down the block.
I flatly refused to play the next game: Left 4 Dead. Just watching the opening movie was enough for me. Fast-moving shadows. Shrieks in the darkness. Rain pouring down. Frankly, I had a hard time watching them play it. Animated decaying bodies looking to eat you are bad enough, but give them speed and I'm a nervous twitching lump.
I thought the onslaught was over. But then came Christmas.
Aaron and Melanie came over with their presents. He had gifted her with the board game Last Night On Earth: The Zombie Game. A couple days later and we were hunkered around my kitchen table with the soundtrack playing in the background. I was the hunky quarterback; Dad, the sheriff; Arielle, the farmer's daughter; Melanie, the priest; and Aaron . . . the zombies. Fifteen minutes later, all the zombies were in the cornfield and Arielle and I were freaking out wondering what they were planning. It became even scarier when halfway through the game they came out, en masse. Many bullets, wounds, and bursts of panic later, the hunky quarterback . . .
. . . found himself separated and alone in the police station surrounded by zombies and with only a pistol. I almost peed my pants. Luckily, in true horror movie fashion, I was able to save us all and barely escape with my life. I thought at last I could have some peace.
Until one morning, I awoke in a cold sweat.
I had just had my first ever zombie nightmare. I had not had a nightmare in years and certainly not a paranormal one in decades. I remember it was night. The whole family met up in some remote part of Boise on a small, dusty hilltop. Tufts of desert grass moved in the breeze as we sat around a rickety picnic table. We took turns explaining our plans for dealing with the oncoming undead. I didn't have a plan and just expressed my love and that I would miss everyone. Melanie agreed. Slowly, silently, we all rose and went our separate ways. (Side note: Family, if we are ever on the eve of a zombie apocalypse, we are NOT to split up!) I got in my car and I remember having just sheer panic. I had no idea where to go, what to do, and a desolate feeling thudded in my gut -- I knew that there was nothing to do, nowhere to hide.
I pulled out of the house's driveway (location had changed due to the nature of dreams) just as a man in a sports car thundered in, tires screeching. He jumped out of his car and approached me, a crazy look in his eyes. I rolled down my window. "Is it coming?"
"No," he replied in a deadpan voice. "It's already here."
As I drove down the street, it became more crowded. People walked around in a dazed state, clothes disheveled and panic in their eyes. Fear tightened my chest and my heart pounded. They were almost here and I was getting closer.
. . .
. . .
. . .
I woke up. This was one of the few times in my life when a dream continued after I laid back down.
It was the next morning and the family was all back at the house. Miraculously, we were all alive and somehow the whole thing was over. It took me forever to coax the cats out of the tree and back into the house. I caught glimpses in their minds of what they had seen. We began to hear stories of how people survived. One group of gentlemen staying at a hotel were given one of the only keys to the high-rise top-floor king suite. They spent the whole night with the doors locked and the lights off; watching the chaos below from the windows. We all knew millions of people had been killed. I began to compile a list of people to call to find out who had made it through the night.
Ugh. What a vibe to go to work on.
Until one morning, I awoke in a cold sweat.
I had just had my first ever zombie nightmare. I had not had a nightmare in years and certainly not a paranormal one in decades. I remember it was night. The whole family met up in some remote part of Boise on a small, dusty hilltop. Tufts of desert grass moved in the breeze as we sat around a rickety picnic table. We took turns explaining our plans for dealing with the oncoming undead. I didn't have a plan and just expressed my love and that I would miss everyone. Melanie agreed. Slowly, silently, we all rose and went our separate ways. (Side note: Family, if we are ever on the eve of a zombie apocalypse, we are NOT to split up!) I got in my car and I remember having just sheer panic. I had no idea where to go, what to do, and a desolate feeling thudded in my gut -- I knew that there was nothing to do, nowhere to hide.
I pulled out of the house's driveway (location had changed due to the nature of dreams) just as a man in a sports car thundered in, tires screeching. He jumped out of his car and approached me, a crazy look in his eyes. I rolled down my window. "Is it coming?"
"No," he replied in a deadpan voice. "It's already here."
As I drove down the street, it became more crowded. People walked around in a dazed state, clothes disheveled and panic in their eyes. Fear tightened my chest and my heart pounded. They were almost here and I was getting closer.
. . .
. . .
. . .
I woke up. This was one of the few times in my life when a dream continued after I laid back down.
It was the next morning and the family was all back at the house. Miraculously, we were all alive and somehow the whole thing was over. It took me forever to coax the cats out of the tree and back into the house. I caught glimpses in their minds of what they had seen. We began to hear stories of how people survived. One group of gentlemen staying at a hotel were given one of the only keys to the high-rise top-floor king suite. They spent the whole night with the doors locked and the lights off; watching the chaos below from the windows. We all knew millions of people had been killed. I began to compile a list of people to call to find out who had made it through the night.
Ugh. What a vibe to go to work on.
