Zombie Apocalypse

Z-Day +17. Chaos. Everywhere. There has been a zombie surge of sorts, and I’ve determined that the Ameristar Casino is the source. I guess they finally found their way out of their little slot machine dungeon. Imagine. Just as Ground Zero was becoming relatively safe, literally hundreds of zombies have poured right back into the historical downtown area. On top of that, you have all sorts of new generations of zombies spreading out in every direction from their area of infection, which means that the whole city is teeming with the living dead. Main Street is just as perilous as any.

I’ve encountered a large group of survivors who have holed up in Walgreens. Although they have a half dozen rifle-toting sentries on the roof at any given time, I still expect they won’t last a month. There are at least thirty of them, so it’s only a matter of time before someone in the group snaps or becomes the Hazard by doing something utterly stupid.

The larger the group, the more chances for failure. Nobody knows each other well enough to vouch for their reliability, so no one can trust anyone. So right off the bat you have a very tenuous alliance among people who at any moment might think it wise to stab you in the back for their own safety. The alpha male, who is either appointed the leader or simply assumes the role himself, has to deal with potential mutiny every second of every day. The redneck blowhard does nothing to smooth things over with everyone’s frayed nerves as he goes on and on about how all he needs is a gun and a bottle of Jack, and how the zombies should just “bring it on.” The high school cheerleader is surprisingly and inconveniently klutzy, too dainty to hold a gun straight or deal with anything “gooey,” and prone to prolonged periods of melodramatic sobbing, feeding off of other people’s self-absorbed doomsaying. The ultra-religious loudmouth simply can’t reconcile the events with her faith, and she is in a perpetual state of sheer panic, which gives way to one solution: it’s the End of the World. That is the person you have to watch out for the most, because she’ll likely open the door for the zombies when nobody else is watching.

That’s why I haven’t bothered to join them. I’m better off just being on the fringe, believe me. I have gone by there four times now, hoping to exchange supplies, and each time I’m nearly shot by a shaky-handed novice who shouldn’t be allowed to hold a gun. Damn them for taking the pharmacy for themselves.

I just got back from there, actually. We weren’t exactly on the best of terms, and they always refused to let me inside, so all trading had to be done with sniper cover, and I just don’t trust their skills enough for complicated haggling over transactions. I also may have shot a high school student or two. Or three. Actually, it was five kids and the sheriff, but they were insane and I had to get out of there. At that moment, from behind the store, a horde of zombies converged and pummeled their defenses, which provided a distraction for my escape.

I’m going to assume that Walgreens will fall within the week and that their band of survivors will then be 100% fresh zombie from concentrate. So now what? Things are grim, to say the least.

The other guy at the coffee shop stronghold and I have trapped Patient Zero, turning an alley into a makeshift cage. We’re waiting for the Captain to get here. Apparently, he has a theory (a strategy, no less) regarding the nature of Patient Zero and the evolution of each generation of zombies. He needs to see for himself, which requires a daring travel across a great distance to get here! St. Mary’s Hospital is but a few blocks from here, and we might have to infiltrate to get all the information we need about Patient Zero. That would be the ultimate climactic mission, wouldn’t it…

All this, mind you, is on a hunch… but the Captain is THE authority on zombie survival, and I’m tossing in my lot with his plan. He warns that I would probably be the Hazard Friend of the group, since I didn’t even build this stronghold myself and was essentially plucked out of the jungle and given a gun and an armored car. I’m no hazard. I follow directions to the letter, because I know how even the tiniest slip-up can cost you everything. I would think by now that I’ve proved myself capable of handling anything the zombies can throw at me, but I also know better than to get comfortable with that fact, because you can be a hazard in more ways than just by mere inattentiveness.

I just hope we can clear a path for the Captain’s arrival. Well, that’s our mission here at the coffee shop. Better get to it. And then I’ll show the Captain just how competent and useful I am.

Stay alive out there! Not just for you, but for me. I don’t want to have to plant one in your brain. Not to sound cold, but… there are two reasons I want you to stay alive: 1) you don’t add to the already overwhelming ranks of zombies, and 2) you might provide a diversion so I can accomplish something while the zombies are off chasing you. Nothing personal.

There’s hope, people. It’s a long shot, but there’s hope. That hope is called the Captain.