We Hate Zombies

Scenario:
Ho ho ho, it’s time for Christmas.¹ You’re in the business of getting presents, and business is good if that’s the kind of business your family is good at. Or your friends, or whomever. Problem is that while you’re inside untying ribbon and shredding Christmas propaganda like ‘happy holidays’ wrapping paper, there’s a growing threat outside, getting ever closer to your door. And closer, but slowly, yet still closer, and it’s really cold outside so the going is pretty slow, but soon enough you and your family are in imminent danger. Next thing you know, Aunt Flufficans is looking kind of weird and the present you’re opening has some blood and a shitty wrapping job. Of course, inside you find a twitching zombie hand. Merry fucking Christmas. What do you do?

What you should do:
Fortunately for you and everyone else, you’re with the people you should be able to trust. Also, you can finally put all that “family” bullshit aside and take control, making those who best (and least) understand you do what you know is right to resolve the situation. This is your moment to shine, unlike that time you graduated from high school and everyone came to eat your cake, leaving behind only that symbolic alarm clock that squawks “HEY FUCKER! WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD BITCH! I’MMA EAT YOU ALIVE!!” (which is of course why you want to destroy it always).

Now the first thing you should know to do is to throw that zombie hand in the oven and switch it into ‘Clean’ mode. This makes the oven rock out until it’s over 500 degrees, burning up all kinds of shit that’s inside, including infected zombie hands. This won’t burn away the bone, but the bone isn’t really the part you should be worrying about. In fact, if you can get Aunt Flufficans in there, all the better. If not, it’s best just to tie her up with some packaging tape and throw her in the basement where you can deal with her later without the sentimental puppy dog eyes of her relatives.

It’s important to understand that families are both the strongest and weakest groups of fighters, strong because they can work effectively together and have strong bonds that can overcome such things as disputes and blood vendettas (usually), but weak because the fall of one can crush the entire family into immobility. That is, if little brother Jimmy turns into a zombie, do your parents have the heart to vaporize his skull? Probably not, but you’d better because you should know better. Once a zombie, always a zombie, and certainly not a Jimmy. Just because you know a croak doesn’t mean you don’t kill a croak. Do for the family what the family itself is too weak to do.

After the immediate threats of the hand and the Aunt are dealt with, you need to understand why the old hag was zombified in the first place. Did someone leave a window open? Is there another zombie in the house? Did she just arrive and was it already too late by then? Sweep the house, gather munitions, and determine where the best defensible positions are in the house. Then turn on the news, if it’s still going, or look outside and check the status of the world. If the shit is too bad, you might need to turn that house into a fortress. If you can still move about the world with some relative safety, decide who has the best house for the job and get going. Hope you got something good for Christmas.

What I would do:
Hm. This is pretty much perfect for me, but to help you understand why, here’s a copy of this years’ Christmas list:

1. Chinese Assault Rifle
2. Explosive Arrows and Bow
3. W.A.S.P. Knife
4. More shotgun shells
5. Night-vision binoculars
6. Gun cleaning kit
7. Case of M.R.E.s
8. … (list continues)

Sure, I didn’t get everything I asked for, but with a list like that it’s hard to go wrong, and what better way to test out all the new gear than a sudden zombie invasion. Not only does ithelp us skip eating that crappy fruit cake, avoid the relations we’d rather not see, and all the other unpleasant parts of seeing family during the holidays, but it also helps release stress and tension by exploding zombos while at the same time creating a bonding experience for the whole family. Woops. I misfired my exploding arrow and hit Uncle Fucker in the leg while he was running from the zombies. Good thing it was explosive so I could get the whole crowd… Thanks mom!

The lesson here is that we can’t avoid our family or the holidays, but we can make the best of them if we’re smart about it.

Oh, and WTF is this?

¹ Well, sometimes we get around to things a little late here.

Scenario:
You’re holed up in a house, trying to hide from the dead freaks running around outside.  You’ve boarded up the windows and doors, you’ve instituted a maximum whisper volume, and you’ve made sure to put out the candles as soon as it starts to become dark outside.  You’ve got enough food to last if everyone starves a little, and the water from the well is good to drink.  No one knows you’re there.  Then you hear a kid screaming for help, banging on the doors of houses nearby.  Then he runs to your’s, banging, banging, banging.  What do you do?

What you should do:
Prepare for the biggest internal conflict you’ll ever see.  It will be like Godzilla fighting the Incredible Hulk during the War of the Worlds.  You’re faced with a choice: either let the kid in, or don’t.  Ultimately the choice is up to you.  I could tell you what to do, but that’s only what I think you should do, and then that’s just what I would do.  Maybe there isn’t a best way out of this one, but here’s a little to think about before you go with your gut one way or the other.

If you don’t save the boy, you might be one of those people who face the internal consequences of such a decision for the rest of their lives.  Guilt, distress, anxiety, depression, suicide, all of it could be part of that bonus package, assuming you live.  People who respond this way usually do so because they do not believe in the reasons why they made the choice they did.  They do not believe their reasons justify their actions, and so they are excuses.  People who respond this way usually see all human life as irrationally important, valuing many as worth more than their own.

Of course, if you don’t save the boy, you have the best chances of surviving.  The screaming and banging on every house in the area will certainly draw a huge crowd of the running face-eaters, and I’m sure that crowd is already running your way.  If the boy gives up on your house and moves on, the zombies will continue the chase and leave your fort behind.  Either way, your prescence remains a secret.

If you do save the boy, you face the possibility that all the zombies who were drawn to him will congregate around your house.  They probably won’t know you are there, but they will stick around and mill about waiting for something else to chase.  Eventually someone will slip up and speak too loudly, or a candle will be left burning in a room after dark, or the same child that was saved will scream out from a nightmare.  When that slip up comes, there’s no room to breath; the zombies are already there, already listening closely, waiting.  When they get a hint of your presence, or just a whiff, they will know and there is no way to make them un-know until you have killed them all or perished.

But, at least you don’t have to worry about feeling bad for not saving the kid.  It’s that kind of catch-22 bullshit.  If you save the kid, you might die immediately but not feel any regrets.  If you don’t save the kid, you might live a long life of guilt and self-hatred.  Bullshit.

What I would do:
The hidden escape of this catch-22 is that you can live without regrets by convincing yourself the reasons you had for not saving the child were valid.  After all, what good is saving a boy if it’s only for a day and the death toll is five more than it would have been?  So, would I save the child?

Hell yes, because every youngster is going to be needed to rebuild the world once the zombies are wiped out.  They are especially good when they are young because they are mentally resilient and you can teach them to shoot like a ninja.  Also, having someone to care for and take care of would give the other people purpose in life, and in a post-zombie world people will need a reason to live or else they will become unproductive, dangerous, and insane.

Which leaves the problem of the zombies.  Well, there’s not a problem if someone takes the boy’s place.  After letting in the boy, I would run outside, screaming and banging.  The zombies won’t know the difference, and that’s fine by me.  Now, I’m not a bleeding heart humanitarian, but I like to call myself a decent strategist, and who else would be better at surviving a mob of zombies than me?  After getting enough attention, I’d run for a while, drawing the zombies out of earshot of the safehouse.  Then I would head into some trees, maybe lose some of the zombies in the forest, and eventually, when I got tired, I would climb up in one and take a nap.  I’m sure that after I woke up, everything would be ok.  Or not, it’s whatever.