Sunday, October 11, 2009

Zombie Survival Story

Twitter recap: Wandering out of the bathroom, I creep into the office lunch room only to discover my friend Cameraman (a.k.a. John) waiting with a DV Cam, showing me footage of protesters in front of a research facility.
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The clip ended suddenly as the power to the DV cam died without warning. "Crap. That was the last charged battery I had for it." I looked up at John as he tapped the camera with his finger, opening the battery door and inspecting the device closer. "There's no power anywhere in the city, except for the hospital and a few police stations" he said. From out of nowhere, a loud scream was heard followed by a very large bang. We both jumped and looked out by the hallway. A slow scuttling of feet could be heard. "Shit!" John whispered to me, panic appearing in his eyes. "These fuckers are on the floor. We've got to get these tables across the doorway or we're fucked". Moving quickly, we managed to lay two tables across the door opening, leaving a narrow cut open so we could view the outside without compromising security. The noises in the hallway increased and we were both greeted by a massive fat man running full tilt towards our barrier. He looked to be in a total rage and was covered in blood. The eyes were completely bloodshot and foam was running out of his mouth. "For fuck sakes" I said, bracing against the door with my shoulder. John came up beside me and braced the door with a chair. The fat man was about 20 feet away, and at this time had discovered John and through the narrow opening. "Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeraaaaaaghhhhhhh!!!" was his response as he launched towards the door, somehow speeding up even further than before. "Dude, he's going to break through our door" I yelled, desperately looking for a brace. John looked calm and pulled out a shiny hand gun the size of Dirty Harry's. "Jesus Christ John" I yelled as he cocked the gun, raising it towards our fat friend. The tables buckled as the man tried desperately to grab onto my arms, scratching my arms and hands with his fingernails. "Three Fifty Seven magnum buddy. The biggest hand gun legally available in the 70's" he said, proudly lifting the heavy weapon and aiming towards the man. "No, wai-" I yelled, but it was too late. The shot, fired from the huge gun, blew the fat man's head clean off. A glorious spattering of blood appeared to fountain off the man's body as it collapsed into a writhing, jerky assemblage. I had ducked to avoid the blood bath, but I couldn't escape what happened. John's mouth moved as to say something, but nothing was heard. I was deaf.

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