Last night it was Zombies.
I worked on a science base where zombies had been artificially created. There were 2 secure yards where the zombies were being held. As an extra piece of security, a part of every Zombie's jaw had been removed, rendering them incapable of biting. Basically they were muzzled dogs. Reasonably safe as long as the muzzles stay on.
Except, the story would be incredibly boring if everything were safe and no one got eaten, right?
One of my co-workers (not an actual, real life co-worker, just some random guy with a beard) decided it would be funny if they put the jaw parts back on 2 of the zombies and had them fight. I thought this was an INCREDIBLY bad idea. I asked another co-worker (a real one this time, Ron Kennedy) if the zombies would know enough to get their jaw parts on for themselves if they were to get ahold of them. He assured me that they were fully capable.
The idiot co-worker grabbed a HANDFUL of the jaw parts and headed out with a group of other make workers to "mess with the deadies" as they put it. Ron wasn't too worried but I was terrified. He disappeared into a closed storage room and I began to frantically search for the security gun I had seen earlier. I had seen it, but our office was incredibly disorganized and I couldn't find it. I was going to put a bullet in idiot co-workers head. He was going to kill us all with his stupidity. That's how it ALWAYS goes. You don't mess around when zombies are involved, you just DON'T.
Suddenly the sounds of screams and gunshots caught my attention. It was too late to stop The Idiot. He was already being overwhelmed and eaten, as were the group of men that went with him. In fact, some were already rising again as they Newly Dead. Of course, they had taken the gun with him so I was now defenseless.
Zombies began to shamble towards the door. I closed and barricaded it at quickly as I could, but I knew it wouldn't last long under the pressure of their onslaught. The glass of the window broke. The door began to splinter. I turned to run...
And ran right into Ron. He was already a zombie. HOW!??! I asked myself in a panic. He had been in a closed storage room. The zombies were still outside! How had they gotten to him? ...they must have though because he was staring at me with dead eyes and peeling skin and a gaping wound on his chest.
He grabbed me and bit me. Hard.
He barely broke the skin, but I knew my fate now. I was going to be a zombie. I sighed and headed outside.
The outside of the "lab" was the outside of my mom's house. (Hey, it's a dream. It doesn't have to be logical) I started walking down the driveway. The zombies were pouring into the streets by now and began attacking neighbors who wandered out of their house. I decided that since I was a zombie now I should start acting like one. I didn't have any particular hunger for human flesh, but, you know, when in Rome. I walked up to one of my neighbors who was transfixed by watching someone else being ripped to shreds, grabbed his hand and bit him. I didn't break the skin, but I figured it was enough. "Looks like you're a zombie too now" I told him.
We decided to go off and do zombie things together.
We got in his car and drove to the mall. At first it was calm but it didn't take long for the place to dissolve into chaos. We went to the food court because I was hungry (but still not particularly for human flesh). I ordered a sandwich and took it from the attendant just as he was over-whelmed by a rabid zombie eating his face.
I sat down with my companion at a table. There were screams and blood all around us, but since it really didn't have anything to do with me I started in on my food. My companion was strangely silent, staring around us in horror. I assumed he wasn't adjusting as well to being a zombie as I was. He abruptly stood up and fled. I watched him run and idly wondered to myself when my skin would start flaking and peeling off.
The attendant who gave me my sandwich rose, then, from behind the counter and started moaning at me. He was staring at me fixedly and trying to walk through the counter to get to me. I was a little confused...why was he interested in ME? I noticed then that HIS skin was already sloughing off and he looked...like a corpse. But I didn't. Not even a little bit.
Realization dawning I looked around me. I was surrounded by other zombies, all who were staring at me as though I was the most fascinating thing on the planet. I stood slowly. A few thoughts suddenly became clear to me.
That closet that Ron had been in WAS closed off completely.
Since I had been standing in front of the entrance, a zombie COULDN'T have gotten in there without me noticing.
Ron thinks it is INCREDIBLY FUNNY to sneak up behind me and scare me in my cubicle. It wouldn't be entirely out of character to don a zombie costume to frighten me.
....I am not a zombie, but I am surrounded by several that want to eat me.
At that moment my child's cries woke me up. I was relieved. I don't think that dream would have ended well for me.
I blearily looked at the clock. 4am. I dragged myself out of bed. As I was changing Connor's diaper, it occurred to me that all of my plans to survive if zombies attacked would be impossible to implement with an infant.
Yes. I have plans to survive the zombie hordes. I'm not insane, I am a recovering insomniac. Let me just say that being objective and logical at 4am after days of no sleep isn't exactly one of my strengths. It was during one of these sleep deprived fevers that I devised my initial survival plan. It has been revised often over the years as lack of sleep or reoccurring zombie nightmares respectively bring those thoughts to the forefront of my mind.
I gazed down at my fragile son and felt a deep, chilling fear at the thought that I couldn't protect us if I had to in that situation. His inevitable cries would attract them making stealth impossible. It would also be impossible to carry him and all the supplies I would need for the both of us and be capable of any real speed. Plus, my dexterity in avoiding attacks would be significantly reduced having a baby strapped to my back. Basically, if the zombies come tomorrow, we'd be toast.
The logical step to take to survive would be to leave him behind. I could never do that though, so the best I could hope for is that we'd die together. It might be different if he were older but as it is...
So yeah, remember what I said about not being in the clearest state of mind at 4am? I had a very hard time falling back to sleep after that, worrying about zombies.
Oh...and Facebook didn't help. The day after I had this dream I logged on to Facebook and took a random quiz "How Will You Die?"
My result? Torn Apart by Zombies.
I knew it!