Finally Home (Part 2)
Well, here's the rest of the drama.
Okay, so there I am, holed up with the other Thinkers, surrounded by undead that want nothing more than to tear me apart simply because I am. Fan-flipping-tastic. At least they had the decency to offer me something to eat, a place to sleep, and even a check-up by resident Doc Frankenstein from earlier. Now, I’m a college student, as I’ve said before, so what guy in their right mind would turn down FREE food? Especially in my situation. So, I agree to all the above, since it came in a package, or not at all. Well, bummer, it’s physical first, just so they can make sure I’m all right.
So I’m sitting there, thankfully no paper dress, guy gives me a check over, and in his defense, he was pretty nice about it all. And professional enough to keep a record, name, date of birth, death, rebirth, that sort of thing. It…got a little awkward when he asked how I died. I told him the story and he just kind of stared at me and asked where I got bit. I told him probably five or six times, I didn’t get bit, I just died and came back. Eventually he just kind of nodded and wrote something down on the page. Then the weird question:
When was the last time you ate?
Well, duh, the day before. He gave me that skeptical look and asked what I ate. I ate chicken, of course. Again with the stares. Next thing you know, he starts poking me, looking in my mouth, making me breath, and all that stuff all over again. Suspicious with a capital S. I ask him if my prognosis is death, and he doesn’t seem to think it’s funny. He told me to leave, so I do.
I went to this corner they have blocked off for eating and stuff and sat down. I get served and then next thing you know, he’s reaching over me and taking away the bowl. It smelled good, that’s all I care. So yeah, he drags me over to an office and sits me down, and we wait. Next thing you know, about six more people come in. They grill me like I did something wrong! The heck?!
How did you die? What did you eat last? What do you remember from the first infection?
Finally one of them looks me in the face and tells me this wonderful nugget of knowledge.
“You’re an original.”
So descriptive. So they are kind enough to continue. I’ll sum up this wonderful mess for you so you don’t have to keep reading too much:
Basically only a handful of people died without being bitten, and of course, even less came back as Thinkers. Most of the Thinkers like me, are either trying to survive with the Living, or are dead because they happened so early in the infection, that they ended up getting shot, or run over, or something. My strain might be able to explain why the infection started, but apart from that, I’m nothing so excitingly special. Except this: I can infiltrate groups of Living, so long as they don’t check me for a heartbeat.
Oh-ho no. I am having none of this. I get up to leave and one of the guys grabs my arm and cranks it up into one of those holds. My attention is gotten.
Basically his issue was this: Doc checked up on me, and they found out I’ve been eating frozen meats. This is not what I’m supposed to be eating. If I don’t eat something human, I’m going to waste away like the undead that are wandering around outside. He’s of the (correct) opinion that I will have none of this either. At this point he goes into this big spiel about how the Thinkers have to stick together, the Living, well, good luck to them but they’re food and the undead, need to get cleaned up because they’re about as useless as an appendix. If I’m not with them, I’m a liability that could expose them to the Living.
Well, eventually the peanut gallery decides to give me a week to decide if I’ll work with their group or keep being stupid. They gave me a gun to go with my useless knife, and sent me on my way, telling me the best way to get home.
So now, I’m back, and I really don’t feel like turning on the ‘box, or doing much of anything else. So basically, I have all this food, that while I can eat it, is doing nothing for me, and now I have to ‘join the dark side or die’.
As if the zombie apocalypse in its own right wasn’t enough of a hassle.
Okay, so there I am, holed up with the other Thinkers, surrounded by undead that want nothing more than to tear me apart simply because I am. Fan-flipping-tastic. At least they had the decency to offer me something to eat, a place to sleep, and even a check-up by resident Doc Frankenstein from earlier. Now, I’m a college student, as I’ve said before, so what guy in their right mind would turn down FREE food? Especially in my situation. So, I agree to all the above, since it came in a package, or not at all. Well, bummer, it’s physical first, just so they can make sure I’m all right.
So I’m sitting there, thankfully no paper dress, guy gives me a check over, and in his defense, he was pretty nice about it all. And professional enough to keep a record, name, date of birth, death, rebirth, that sort of thing. It…got a little awkward when he asked how I died. I told him the story and he just kind of stared at me and asked where I got bit. I told him probably five or six times, I didn’t get bit, I just died and came back. Eventually he just kind of nodded and wrote something down on the page. Then the weird question:
When was the last time you ate?
Well, duh, the day before. He gave me that skeptical look and asked what I ate. I ate chicken, of course. Again with the stares. Next thing you know, he starts poking me, looking in my mouth, making me breath, and all that stuff all over again. Suspicious with a capital S. I ask him if my prognosis is death, and he doesn’t seem to think it’s funny. He told me to leave, so I do.
I went to this corner they have blocked off for eating and stuff and sat down. I get served and then next thing you know, he’s reaching over me and taking away the bowl. It smelled good, that’s all I care. So yeah, he drags me over to an office and sits me down, and we wait. Next thing you know, about six more people come in. They grill me like I did something wrong! The heck?!
How did you die? What did you eat last? What do you remember from the first infection?
Finally one of them looks me in the face and tells me this wonderful nugget of knowledge.
“You’re an original.”
So descriptive. So they are kind enough to continue. I’ll sum up this wonderful mess for you so you don’t have to keep reading too much:
Basically only a handful of people died without being bitten, and of course, even less came back as Thinkers. Most of the Thinkers like me, are either trying to survive with the Living, or are dead because they happened so early in the infection, that they ended up getting shot, or run over, or something. My strain might be able to explain why the infection started, but apart from that, I’m nothing so excitingly special. Except this: I can infiltrate groups of Living, so long as they don’t check me for a heartbeat.
Oh-ho no. I am having none of this. I get up to leave and one of the guys grabs my arm and cranks it up into one of those holds. My attention is gotten.
Basically his issue was this: Doc checked up on me, and they found out I’ve been eating frozen meats. This is not what I’m supposed to be eating. If I don’t eat something human, I’m going to waste away like the undead that are wandering around outside. He’s of the (correct) opinion that I will have none of this either. At this point he goes into this big spiel about how the Thinkers have to stick together, the Living, well, good luck to them but they’re food and the undead, need to get cleaned up because they’re about as useless as an appendix. If I’m not with them, I’m a liability that could expose them to the Living.
Well, eventually the peanut gallery decides to give me a week to decide if I’ll work with their group or keep being stupid. They gave me a gun to go with my useless knife, and sent me on my way, telling me the best way to get home.
So now, I’m back, and I really don’t feel like turning on the ‘box, or doing much of anything else. So basically, I have all this food, that while I can eat it, is doing nothing for me, and now I have to ‘join the dark side or die’.
As if the zombie apocalypse in its own right wasn’t enough of a hassle.