The zombie apocalypse was in full swing. I was a character in a sitcom and the rest of the cast of characters and I were coworkers trying to escape our workplace, which was some sort of walled compound filled with construction equipment, trucks and things, and some small storage silos. We wanted to make it from one end of the compound to the other, into a fenced in area, and up a tall tower of some kind.
One of our number, who slightly resembled a more ethnic version of Carla from Cheers, became zombified, but oddly did not behave fully zombie-like. She stumbled around as if drunk, but held beers or something in her hands and seemed to occasionally try to drink them. This confused the other zombies who would move towards her as if to attack and then lose interest when they got closer. She herself seemed to have little interest in eating us. Continue reading
I was inside a shopping mall with grey zombies, really low res looking ones with limited colour palettes. The mall was very jagged and angular, and chunks of the wall had the same palette, and there was a feeling of low refresh rate, further enhancing that this was a game from the 90s.
It was the zombie apocalypse again. Human survivors were scattered around. It wasn’t so sparse as in many zombie apocalypse stories, but the zombies still had the upper hand and survivors lived in fear.
I and some others lived in the top floor office of a massive warehouse/factory type complex. It was handy because we could monitor the floor below from the office window. Zombies would get in and wander their way near us. They could be taken out without alerting zombies outside, because it was indoors, but there was enough clearance room to have ample warning and reduce risk. It was a pretty good situation. Continue reading
I was in my old house in Ottawa. The toilet had a habit of spraying a stream of water, urine or what-have-you right in your face. It was broken, clearly. The time in question, it sprayed a stream of blood right in my face. I was revolted. Not because it was blood, but because I had instantly assumed that my mother had just had her period in there. Fortunately there was more mundane explanation – zombies were crawling up the pipes from the sewer.
An outdoor grocery store? Yes, it’s in the canyon between lines of rubble of a ruined highway overpass. When the missile comes don’t go look at the corpses, they’ll all get up in unison and chase you as fast as you can run. Don’t climb over the fence, they can just do the same, it won’t even slow them down. They’ll use the same shortcuts you do as well. You’ll tire. They won’t. It’s really that simple. I don’t shop there anymore.