I’ve always believed that the end would come during my lifetime. With the invention of bombs, guns and television, it was bound to happen. Sentient robots, the return of smallpox, or hell, maybe just brains melting like Roald Dahl predicted, I was sure I’d thought of everything, but no, I didn’t think of this.
I probably should have. I mean everyone seemed to know, or at least guessed. The idea of a zombie apocalypse just always seemed so ludicrous to me. I guess that’s why I wasn’t invited into the Dome. I guess that’s why I’m here, beating off mindless corpses with a bat while Mandy Jackson and her “crew” are enjoying foie gras laying on a man made beach. She’s ‘Earth’s Best’ and I’m, well, not.
“EV!” I hear the beautiful sound of K’s voice, screaming my name. “De-head that B-”
I cut her off by grabbing a spade and smashing the head of Mr. Undead 267. She thanks me as I continue walking in the direction of the supposed ‘Safe Haven’. I grunt.
I hope the zombies break into the Dome and eat Mandy Jackson.