Zombie Train

Life is boring.  That means it’s time for another Amazing Adventure!
This morning my train was attacked by zombies.  Usually, I’d think something like this would be really cool, but I had a lot of work to do at the office and was annoyed that my arrival would now be delayed.  People around me were panicking and trampling each other.  I knew I needed to get to higher ground, so I climbed over some of the seats and perched myself in a window ledge and waited for people to either calm the hell down or all kill each other–whichever came first.
You’d think it would have been the “calm down” route.  It wasn’t.  Within minutes, me and this really fatguy were the only ones alive/conscious in the train car proving, once and for all, that the term “survival of the fittest” is a grave misnomer.
I didn’t have much on my person with which to defend myself.  My shoulder bag held an umbrella, a paperback novel, a bottle of aspirin, an iPod, and my wallet and keys.  I briefly considered fashioning some sort of McGyver device with my iPod headphones and the umbrella, but then noticed that one of the dead and/or unconscious bodies was that of a policeman.  The fat man was preoccupied with trying to pry open a side door, so I moved to the fallen officer.  I took his sidearm, his handcuffs, and, for good measure, his pepper spray.  I tried using his radio, but it must have gotten stepped on in the pandemoniacal stampeding of the train passengers because it didn’t work.
Now, the thing that really bothers me about people in zombie movies is that they have never seen a zombie movie.  This obese man (as any zombie-fan will tell you) was Prime Grade-A zombie food–there’s a lot to go around, and it’s not hard to catch.  Since I have seen zombie movies, I moved away from the man and looked for an alternate means of escape.  My best chances were on the train, not the darkened tunnel surrounding it, and so I moved to the head of the car and went through the door that led to the next train car.  My plan was to make my way to the head of the train and exit to the tunnel from there, if the train itself was inoperable.  The next station had to be pretty close.  I thought I might be able to make it.

The other train car was in a similar state to mine–although there didn’t appear to be survivors, not that I was going to stop and check.  Again, I’ve watched zombie movies, and know that the injured will only slow you down. I ignored a few moans of pain and quickly crossed over into the next car.  One of the side doors was open to this car, and a zombie was sitting crossed-legged on the floor of the train, eating someone.  He turned to look at me as the door shut behind me.  He struggled to stand, and I thanked God that these were more old school zombies and moved slowly before reaching for the officer’s gun.  I had a limited number of bullets and didn’t relish the idea of a loud gunshot announcing my presence to anything else, so I waited until the moaning Undead was within striking distance before braining it with the butt of the handgun.  He dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, and I promptly dealt another serious blow with the heel of my dress shoe.  I wasn’t about leave an “assumed dead” zombie behind me, thank you very much.  I was making damn sure.

The rest of the train was devoid of life (or unlife, if you want to look at it that way).  As I entered the conductor’s booth, I was feeling pretty good about myself.  I had been having a good hair day, and it seemed that I could hold my own against zombies.  Who knew?  My mood dropped a little as I looked at the train controls, which were totally fried.  It appeared that something rather large had busted its way through the windshield, destroying any chance of operating the train along with it.  I climbed through the empty glass frame and listened.  The tunnel around me was completely still.  Every twenty feet or so there were dim halogen lights embedded into the walls and the way looked clear.  At least, as far as I could see.

Wondering if it were possible that only one zombie could have wreaked all this havoc, I carefully jumped from the train to the ground below.  I held the gun out in front of me, sweeping the tunnel as I walked like I knew what I was doing (I didn’t).  With every step I was growing increasingly optimistic that I would survive this.  Then I came around a bend in the tunnel.

What do you call a bunch of zombies?  A pack?  A herd?  A warren?  I like that one.  As I rounded the bend, I came face-to-face with a warren of zombies.  They were partying with (i.e. eating) all the frightened train passengers that had managed to avoid trampling and had escaped from the train.  Everything stopped as every zombie, and there were at least fifty, stared at me.  I stared back at them, motionless, trying to come up with a plan.  I don’t know anything about guns, but I’m thinking the one in my hand didn’t have fifty bullets.  Well, better make that one hundred bullets (I have really bad aim).  I adopted a doped-up expression and began moaning, trying to act like I was batting for their team.  “Braaaaainnnnnnssss,” I moaned as I staggered toward them, coincidentally also toward a red-illuminated exit sign just visible on the other side of the warren.

Okay, so this is the one instance where watching zombie movies will not help you.  They didn’t buy it.  Unfortunately, I was inside the crowd before realizing this.  I managed to get a couple shots off as they grabbed me, dragging me down.  I felt one sink its teeth in my upper arm, making me drop the gun.

Clearly, they didn’t eat me, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to write this documentation of events.  I am, however, now a zombie.  You know, it’s really not all that bad–a little make-up and you can’t even tell.  I even went to work afterward.  Now if you’ll excuse me, my roommate just got home.  I’m going to go eat him.

What do you think?