Event V

As quickly and quietly as I can, I move down the stairs, but truth be told, I think I could have made as much noise as a drum and fife corps and it wouldn’t have made any difference. As long as I was on the stairs, I was out of their reach. Out of reach, out of mind. Zombies appear to be very pragmatic.

I hit the floor running. With my adrenaline-heightened senses, I could hear the change in the shuffling gait of the things around me, but I was faster than they were. I would have made it too if, just as I reached the open bay doors, two zombies hadn’t stepped out from where they had been loading the semi trailer. As it was, I still almost made it. I skidded to a stop and twisted around them like a star running back and dove for the steps that led down from the loading dock.

I felt a crushing weight hit my shoulder. I didn’t feel any pain, but I was wrenched all the way around.

And I died.

Again.

I was getting really tired of this.

I lay there on the loading dock. I am on my back. The light of the moon is now so bright that it is hurting my eyes. I am so hungry. I try to get up, but my right arm isn’t working. The two zombies are just standing there shifting their weight from foot to foot and looking around. One of them, I kid you not, starts crying.

“Don’t go out. Don’t go out. Don’t go out.”

I just lay there watching him loose it. The other one turns to him and speaks in heavily accented English, “Shut up.”

“Don’t go out. Don’t go out. Don’t go out.”

“SHUT UP”

Proving that zombies aren’t nearly as stupid as you might think, the second zombie shuts up. Then, they just stand there ignoring me. I can hear the other zombies moving in the warehouse, but they are not coming out. They have all returned to work. I realize that, even though I am hungry and obviously my food of choice is composed of at least one human body part, the nearby zombies do not register on my food radar. Obviously, now that I am “dead,” I don’t register on theirs, either.

My brain is not working too quickly, but something is different from the first time this happened. I am able to think of something more than the incredible hunger I feel. For example, I am able to think that I have to get up and get out of here. Right. Now.

I have an idea. “HEY. ZOMBIE. WALK FORWARD TWO STEPS.”

They both take two steps forward. How cool.

“BEND OVER AND STRETCH YOUR ARMS OUT STRAIGHT.”

Reaching up, I’m still not able to grab the nearest one’s outstretched arm and use it to pull myself up. I feel like a flipped-over tortoise. My joints are incredibly stiff and painful and unresponsive.

“GRAB MY ARM AND PULL ME UP.”

I should have been more specific. Both zombies immediately reach down and take me by each arm and pull. The pain in my right shoulder is outstanding. I make it to my feet, but I am unable to do anything for a minute but hunch over my poor right arm and whimper like a beat puppy.

“GO. BACK. INSIDE.” It’s hard to get enough air to make the command as forceful as it needs to be, but after two or three tries, I finally manage. They immediately, if somewhat clumsily, turn and go back inside the warehouse. Dreading the effect on my shoulder joint, I take a few calming breaths and straighten up.

Very little pain. I make a few experimental flexes with my right hand. I can move it. Whatever they did when they tried to catch me, they must have undone when they pulled me up. Relief floods me and the lights go out.

I staggered forward a little and the sensations of the night returned. I was alive.

Again.

I need to get out of here before someone with more on the ball than a zombie comes along. I don’t know if whoever is in charge can order me around like a robot, but I don’t want to stick around and find out. I have no memory of anything outside of B movies to go on, but I have a sneaking suspicion that a fair murder trial is not in the cards for zombies.

I turn for the steps leading down from the loading dock and almost trip over the laptop. It must have fallen out of my shirt when I went down. There’s no time for more than the most cursory of visual inspections, but it doesn’t appear to be too damaged. I tuck it under my arm and start moving. In the distance I can hear muted traffic sounds. The night has taken on that expectant quality it gets just before dawn. I have somehow wasted an entire night.

With one last quick look at the empty bay doors, I pick a direction at random and start running.