Page 1

I've seen a lot of strange things in my time, but nothing in the accumulated experiences of my life could prepare me for what I saw that September morning. The radio-alarm clock combo on the nightstand started with the traffic report that morning, some static and then a lot of talk about people wandering onto the freeway. I ignored it as I staggered in the shower. Twenty minutes later I was in the kitchen pouring milk into my cheerios and listening to Good Morning America on the TV, still oblivious to the latest news. It was just another day, or so I thought. I sat down on my futon with a can of Pepsi and my cereal and turned the volume up on the television.

"And recapping our top story, a yet unknown number of people have been reported around the nation to be waking up and walking, in a trance-like state towards the western coast of the U.S." the morning anchor said, almost shocked by what he was reporting. "More amazing still, many of these people have been reported as... deceased. Funeral homes, morgues, hospitals, all have reported a mass exodus of cadavers getting off their exam tables and hitting the streets."

As if on some unspoken cue, something thumped outside my window followed by a sound like a squeegee on a windshield. I set the soda and the cereal on my coffee table and carefully inched my way to the blinds. I grabbed the white turn dangling from the top of the window and twisted it slowly. I was shocked at first to see the woman standing there, naked and pale as a sheet with one arm dragging slowly across the glass as she hobbled through the parking lot. Her hair was long and blonde, her lips pouting and blue. She had the body of a model and most of it was pressed against the glass. I tapped twice above her elbow; she froze.

"Ma'am," I called from my side of the window. "Oh, ma'am. I've got an old t-shirt here if you'd like to borrow it. It looks cold out there."

She turned at my voice, exposing the full glory of her curving form as well as the hastily stitched "Y" incision between her breasts and down to her pubic bone. She looked me up and down with pale blue eyes, slapped her hand dumbly onto the window pane and turned to move away. I staggered back over the coffee table and toppled my breakfast onto the carpet. There were a dozen other people with the same blue tinge bumping and stumbling between the rows of cars outside. A fat man in a Hawaiian shirt and flip flops staggered into a white Mercedes across the lot from my old green Ford. The alarm sounded, the man fell backwards and then slowly got back on his feet. Blood was dripping from someplace on his body and had left a long smear down the hood of the car.

"As incredible as these reports may seem, officials have urged citizens to lock all doors and windows and stay inside and out of sight of these marauders. While no acts of violence have been reported, federal officials are urging people to err on the side of caution."

Just then, the fat man grabbed the Mercedes passenger side mirror and snapped it off. Hefting it in one bloodied, chubby hand he slammed it into the windshield and spider webbed the glass. His fingers like, little sausages, were snagged momentarily on the jagged pieces of windshield until he released the mirror and shambled off as if nothing were wrong.

I'd seen enough zombie movies in high school to know what I was dealing with. I called in sick to work and stayed glued to my television the whole morning.

By eight-thirty the first reports were coming in from China and most of east Asia of millions of people walking into the Pacific Ocean, heedless to the waves and basic necessities of life. Oblivious, they staggered into the waves and drifted out to sea. A barber shop quarter, dressed in the candy stripe red and white vests and straw hats were shown constantly in the news reels, mostly intact save for the scorch marks and broken bones caused by the plane crash that had ended their careers in vaudeville, not to mention their lives. No matter the circumstance of the death, nor the grizzly state of the body, everyone it seemed was heading for the west coast of America.

I dug my paint ball gear and some other various bits of equipment from the dredges of my closet before putting on my security guard uniform and brushing my teeth.

[ Continue to page 2 ]