This Is The Way It Ends

It was warm enough to take the little dog to the park this morning so we went. Apparently I thought cold was the only factor worthy of consideration. After skating over black ice, waiting in doorways for other dogs to pass, and navigating around deep slush puddles we arrived at the park. Of course the nightmare didn't become obvious until we were a solid ten yards into the joint so going back was going to be at least as hard as going forward. The snow was deep and wet but crusty. Your feet sink into it and you have to work on lifting them out again to move forward. There's ice underneath, most of the places that look clear are actually skating rinks, and some of those are actually deep puddles waiting to soak your ankles.

I had already decided that the smartest thing to do was to go forward to the next exit and then go home. Ed seemed to be going slow, too, picking his path carefully so I forged ahead to throw away a bag. In the two seconds that I turned to aim my throw at the can one of his arch nemeses appeared next to him (please spay and neuter your dogs, I'm begging you). Suddenly he was much better able to follow and off he went. There was no way I could follow at speed. I called and cajoled and I tried to get closer. My feet sank deeper and deeper with every step and I was basically helpless.

It was at this point that I started to think about zombies.

All the zombie stories happen in warm climes. The weather gets uncomfortable for the humans but not the zombies. Sure, World War Z advises us to head north because zombie blood doesn't circulate (no pumping heart, no circulation) so it freezes and halts the monsters. They don't, however, mention days like today. It's 36F so it's above freezing but there's plenty of snow on the ground. If the snow is melting into moat-like puddles I'm pretty sure those zombies would be on the move.

Picture it, they're slipping and sliding on the black ice of the sidewalks. I'm being careful not to fall so their single-mindedness means they're gaining on me whether walking, sliding, or crawling. I decide to duck into the park to lose them in obstacles, maybe even sliding down the back side of the hill if I can just get up the front side first. The path is as slick as the sidewalks I just abandoned so I hit the field. Suddenly my feet break through the crust and I'm up to my knees in heavy snow. I can make steady progress, even though it feels like my heart might explode, so I keep coming. Then I hit ice underneath, skid, and recover. Yanking my foot out of the hole my boot comes loose. No time to retie it but it's slowing me down. I make it three more strides before a zombie surprises me from the side and I can't turn away. She must have been frozen in the snow but thawed enough to be ready to feed. I try to twist my body from the impact but she slams into me and down I go, body moving but feet stuck. I feel a tremendous SNAP as my shin breaks and shortly after that everything goes blessedly black.

Maybe that's why they always set zombie stories in pleasant weather because if they set them up here there wouldn't be any suspense. We're all just going to die.

*This post is dedicated to Our Lisa who promises to stay in great shape to defend me against zombies when the apocalypse comes.