Leonard, an unnamed girl and I were all friends living in New Zealand. There had been a series of zombie attacks in our metropolis, but rather than evacuate or take military action, the overwhelming response from the population was to demonstrate against the zombies with picket signs and rallies. The zombie infection wasn’t as catching as it is in movies, where whole cities can turn in a matter of days — here it was much reduced, and it was as if we all believed zombie-ism was spread by lack of understanding.
Zombies existed in three stages. Stage one was infection, which worked much slower than one would expect: it was possible to be infected and function perfectly normally for weeks. Your appearance would deteriorate, but those who knew you might think you just weren’t taking care of yourself. You’d probably have the same feeling, until you started to notice zombie-like cravings.
Stage two was full-on zombie, as you’d see in movies, although a little faster-moving. You were crazed and presented a bodily threat to anyone around you, although mere injury (even bite wound) from a zombie didn’t mean guaranteed infection. It was more like 1 in 25.
Stage three was a barely-mobile creature, accompanied by putrefaction. This worn-out skeletal zombie, noticeable by its cover of swarming flies, would push deeper into civilization if not stopped, and find a place to hide. Its body acted as a pheromonal beacon to encourage other zombies to press onward into inhabited areas. This zombie was only dangerous if disturbed, but was easy to kill due to its rotted state. Otherwise it wouldn’t move from its curled-up position in attics, basements, rooftops, etc.
Our crazy cubiform city (that resembled a Lego set more than a real city) had rallies and marches going on round the clock, made of thousands and thousands of people with banners and signs. Businesses had all closed, and the streets were clogged with protestors, making it impossible to leave.
A small contingent of zombies (maybe 40 or 50) was approaching a park downtown, and this was a good place for a stump speech, thought our mayor, who happened to look like Nichelle Nichols from Star Trek V. She talked about civic pride and not giving up, and also passed out some pain medication in case anyone was injured — I guess with the idea that it was better to spend your last minutes doped up, if it got to that point. (I took my pill right away, thinking I didn’t want to wait 20 minutes for it to take effect while I bled to death in 5.)
The zombies appeared over a hill and charged. Lines broke, there was hysteria. It wasn’t solvable with protest signs, but people found out too late. Leonard and I made a break for it and crossed wide, deserted areas surrounded by madness: parking lots, people’s yards and backstreets. I complained about the distance, and Leonard said, “try doing this in wool underwear. I thought it was going to be cold today.”
We finally got to Leonard’s car and started threading our way through back roads, trying to leave the city, but it was always either blocked by picketers or stampeding crowds. Finally we broke through, and I thought, “oh no. We got away… but I’ve seen the trailer to this movie, and there’s way more to it than this. There’s a part where I have to fight one of the rotted ones. So this isn’t over yet.”
Of course Leonard goes, “We have a car, so we can leave whenever we want. We have to go back and find ______,” our friend. I argue with him, but realize if he wanted he could take the car and leave me stranded in the city, so I have to help him.
I think the dream just skipped forward to another scene, where I was lurking in some clutter-choked attic, calling out our friend’s name. I don’t know where Leonard was. Then, behind some old chairs and a trunk, I heard buzzing, and saw a cloud of flies illuminated by my flashlight. I knew I needed to kill what was behind there, to prevent more from coming. As I approached, I saw it was the remains of a young teenager, maybe 15 years old, and it rapidly stood up when I saw it. Instinctively I grabbed its neck, thinking the fastest way to stop it would be to tear its head off, but I found it was much less rotted than I assumed it would be — this was like fighting a regular, healthy kid wearing gray body paint.
I woke up and checked Twitter to see if anything like the apocalypse had happened in real life.