Of Apophenia and Augury, Part II

"The Chief is... currently missing," Leon said.
"So sad," Captain Zwingli said. "Sounds like you're on your own. Doctor West, anything we should explain to local officials?"
"Nothing we can tell them without bring up more questions than answers," Dr. West said. "No reason to cause confusion."
"I gave up my weapon, I at least need to know what you're doing to keep these citizens safe!" Leon said.
"Do you see all these soldiers?" Captain Zwingli asked. "They'll contain things, as ordered."
"And what are we containing?"
"Them." Dr. West pointed into the tent, where half a dozen zombies lie strapped down, struggling clumsily against their restraints. "We don't want anyone to get injured unnecessarily, and we certainly don't want a panic."
"You have them inside the camp?!?" Leon said.
"Why don't you say it a little louder?" Captain Zwingli said. "They need to be here so we can monitor how quickly they spread. Now why don't you go direct some traffic and leave the heavy lifting to the professionals."

Amid the crowd, Liv saw the injured woman and one of the men from their transport stumbling against the fence nearby.
"This woman's hurt! Is there a doctor nearby?" Liv yelled above the din of frightened people. "Reed? Get one of the doctors!"
Reed looked up and saw the two passengers. The woman straightened up slowly, looked into the man's vacant eyes, then turned. Both began walking toward Liv and the children.

"And if one of these 'patients' breaks loose? It's pretty crowded over there, you know," Leon said.
"The soldiers have orders to fire on anyone exhibiting revenant behavior," Dr. West said. "There are guards all around these tents. There's no scenario in which they could get to the crowd."
"Revenant??" Leon asked. "What the hell is that?"
"That's science talk for zombies," Captain Zwingli said. "You did get that that's what we're up against, right? The walking dead, like in one o' them movies."
"Not precisely," Dr. West said.
"Look I don't care what they are right now," Leon said, not quite convincingly. "Are you sure you can contain them? There are worse things for these people than just dying, right now."
"Yes, I suppose that's true," Doctor West said. "More true than you know, really."
"Anyway, if we actually have to euthanize them, one head shot from the live ammo in those trucks," Captain Zwingli gestured to two trucks between a humvee and the energy equipment truck," right over there does them nicely."

The pair stumbling toward the crowd stared blankly at Liv.
"Are you alright?" Liv asked.
"Liv, get the kids away from them," Reed said. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the revolver he had concealed and loaded several rounds into it.
The third injured man, the one who had spoken earlier, ran out from the crowd toward the woman. "Nancy," he said, "did the doctors see you??"

"The live ammo's in storage? What are all the soldiers using??" Leon asked.
"Riot control," Captain Zwingli said, "as per our orders."
"You're using rubber bullets?!? That bleeping airman was serious?!?!?!" Leon ran toward the crowd of refugees.

Nancy grabbed the man's arm, throwing him against fence and biting him. The other man moved toward the crowd and moaned.
"Hey! There's a fight over here! Break it up!" A dozen civilians descended on the couple against the fence. Amid the crowd, the second man tried to grab Liv.
"Liv!" Reed raised his pistol and rushed forward.
"Look out! That guy's got a gun!"
"...Get off of him, lady, break it up!..."
"...GYAAAHHHH! he bit me!..."
"...Dizzy... UUNNGHH..."
Reed reached his family and shot the zombie in the chest. Screams from the crowd. The zombie stumbled back and fell, but just as quickly began to get up.
"Reed!" Leon shouted as he ran up. "The head!"
Liv wrapped her arms around her children's faces, turning them away from the gore.
Reed fired once. The zombie fell dead.
Screams and moans billowed from the crowd by the fence. As soldiers moved in, the crowd began to spread out, all eyes vacant. The soldiers began firing on the crowd, but the zombies merely stumbled back.
"Leon!" Kurt shouted as he tossed Leon his pistol. Kurt had apparently never stored it as ordered.
"We've got to get out of here," Leon said to Kurt and Reed. "Something is not right about this!"
"Agreed. Airman Russell, do they leave the keys in those trucks?" Reed asked, pointing at the energy equipment trucks.
"Yes," Kurt said. "You lead, we follow."
"We need to help some of these people!" Liv said.
"Get your kids on the truck," Leon said. "We'll round up whoever we can."
Bullets and screams were flying freely. Leon and Reed managed to move a couple dozen people toward a Humvee and a nearly empty weapon truck as the soldiers distributed the guns. Kurt and a few more piled into one of the equipment trucks. They drove straight through the now unmanned gate as the sun started to rise.

The three vehicles kept driving through the deserted suburbs. Up ahead, they saw a group of roughly a dozen refugees walking along the road.
"Reed, I think that's the Reddings!" Liv said. Reed slowed the truck as they approached and leaned out the window.
"Mr. Redding, were you in one of the camps?" Reed said.
"No," Mr. Redding said. "Rose got us out of the house and moving before the soldiers came through."
"They managed to find Walter and us in time," Daisy Newman said, holding her daughter. "Walter, it's Reed Wright! Is your family OK?"
"We're all here, thanks. About thirty of us managed to escape," Reed said. "It was bad."
"Where are you headed from here?" Rose asked.
"We're sort of playing by ear right now," Reed said. "They seem to be following my lead, but I have no idea where to take these people."
Walter Newman walked up beside Daisy. "Sounds like you're going to need us as much as we'll need you, Reed. We have a plan."

Of Apophenia and Augury, Part I

The family was herded into the back of a military transport truck with a few of their neighbors. Gun shots continued to sound in the warm night. The truck pulled away from the houses and drove to the highway nearby, where it met up with two other transports. The truck stopped and idled as the driver got out and met with the drivers of the other two.
"What's the hold up?" One driver asked.
"We're headed back toward downtown," another said. "Listen, we picked up a bleeping cop who wants to talk to 'somebody in charge.' Either of you headed back in?"
"I'm almost full," The first driver said. "Have him and any casualties hop on the back of mine, I'll go ahead and go in. This bleeping operation's gonna take all bleeping night." And no, the soldiers didn't say bleeping.
The drivers went back to their respective trucks. The Wright family (Reed, Liv, Wayne, and Eileen), still clad in their pajamas, children fighting back tears of fear, sat in the back of the truck with neighbors they barely knew and the soldiers who had rescued them from their own home. The gate at the back of the truck was lowered as a Hispanic man in a wrinkled city police uniform climbed into the truck with them, followed by three injured civilians.
"Thanks," the policeman said. "You three OK?"
"The two of us are OK, I think," said one of the men, "but she seems pretty bad, got a big gash in her arm. Let's hope we can get her to a doctor quick."
"Will someone please tell us what's going on?" Another passenger said. "These soldiers just broke into our house and told us to come with them!"
"I haven't been able to get any straight answers," The officer said.

When everyone was situated, the truck began moving again. The officer tried to start a conversation with the soldiers.
"I don't suppose you guys care to say what's going on either?" The officer asked. "Like why people are being attacked, or how you were ready to respond so quickly?"
"We're not FEMA," a soldier with a pistol said.
The officer laughed. "Thank you! That's the first answer I've gotten that wasn't some 'not authorized to discuss it' BS." The officer did say 'BS,' censoring his own speech after noticing the Wright family's children listening. "Sgt. Leon Romero," he said.
"Airman Russell," the soldier with the pistol said.
"Yeah, let's just get cozy," the other soldier said contemptuously. "Nice to meet you, the name's royal chief master sergeant bleeping awesome. We don't care who you are!"
"Hey!" Leon said. "There are kids listening, Junior Birdman." The soldier started to stand, but Airman Russell slapped a hand across the other soldier's chest, pushing him back down. Reed glanced at Russell's insignia, noticing that he was of higher rank than the other airman.
"Airman Russell?" Liv said. "I just want to thank you for protecting my husband earlier."
"Yeah, two to the head!" The airman basic said. "He's gonna get an earful for that bit of genius later."
"I noticed that was the only one you actually stopped," Reed said. "How come your rifle barely held them off?"
The airman basic frowned. "Rubber bullets," he said. Liv scoffed, clearly unconvinced. Russell remained silent, but seemed uncomfortable with the conversation.
"You don't say much, do you Airman Russell?" Leon asked.
"Nope," Russell responded.
Leon smiled. "You got a first name, Airman?"
"Kurt," Airman Kurt Russell responded. "No relation."
"Really?" Reed said. "Cause now that you say it, you look just like the actor."
"So I hear," Kurt said.
"How about you, friend?" Leon said.
"My name's Reed, this is my wife Liv, and my children Wayne and Eileen."
"Nice to meet you," Leon said.

The truck came to a stop for a moment, then pulled forward slowly. The passengers saw a make-shift checkpoint box and a high, chain-link fence pass behind them. The truck came to a stop and everyone exited the truck, the two airmen going first. An Air Force officer approached Leon.
"Sergeant, I'll be escorting you to speak to the Captain," the Lieutenant said. "But first I'll need you to relinquish your weapon."
"Excuse me?" Leon said incredulously. "You want my sidearm?"
"Yes sir, I have to insist," The Lieutenant said. "Senior Airman, please take the Sergeant's weapon." Kurt stepped forward and held out his hand to Leon.
Leon looked around. They were clearly in a military operated camp, probably set up exclusively to process civilians before taking them to a more permanent location. There was nothing to gain from making a scene. Leon handed over his gun.
"Armory tent," the Lieutenant said. Kurt marched off.
Leon turned to Reed. "Look after them. I'll catch up with you if I find out anything worth passing on." Leon and the Lieutenant walked toward a cluster of tents.
"This way," the airman basic said to Reed. The Wright family was led to a crowd of civilians, mostly also in their pajamas.

The Lieutenant delivered Leon to his superior officer presently. The Captain, who was standing next to a tent with several medical professional types wandering about, did not take notice of them. He seemed entirely engrossed directing transport trucks to their staging areas.
"Captain Zwingli? This is the police officer who wanted to see you," the Lieutenant said.
"Get that equipment in position for setup in the morning!" Captain Zwingli said. The truck parked next to several others directly opposite the main gate. Captain Zwingli then turned to Leon and the Lieutenant. "The Air Force says these camps need to be able to run on autonomous power, which would be fine by me; but since the whole bleeping world has gone green, they give us solar panels and some kind of bleeping windmills rather than gas generators. Bleeping nonsense, I say!"
"Great," Leon said. "What's going on?"
"That will be all, Lieutenant," Captain Zwingli said. "Now who are you?"
"I'm a Sergeant out of the sixth precinct, badge number 1013-..."
"I'm not impressed," Captain Zwingli said flatly. "Where's your Chief of Police?"
"The Chief is... currently missing," Leon said.
"So sad," Captain Zwingli said. "Sounds like you're on your own. Doctor West, anything we should explain to local officials?"
"Nothing we can tell them without bring up more questions than answers," Dr. West said. "No reason to cause confusion."
"I gave up my weapon, I at least need to know what you're doing to keep these citizens safe!" Leon said.
"Do you see all these soldiers?" Captain Zwingli asked. "They'll contain things, as ordered."
"And what are we containing?"
"Them." Dr. West pointed into the tent, where half a dozen zombies lie strapped down, struggling clumsily against their restraints.

Life Changing Arts

There's a meme going around the Facebook. (A SIDE: I've recently been informed that the word 'meme' was coined by one Richard Dawkins, a man with few fans in my social circles. This does not compel me to use a different word.) The basic idea is to list the 15 music albums that 'changed your life.' Now, I like music, but I couldn't come close to listing 15 songs that have truly 'changed my life,' much less 15 whole albums. And it would seem a betrayal of reader interest for me to list 15 albums that I thought were 'pretty sweet.'

That said, I love the idea of admitting that our experience of art and media shapes who we are and how we relate to the world. I'm not just talking music, although that's a big part of it. I'm thinking changing the glasses we use to view the world through books, movies, music, paintings, theatrical performances, culinary experiences, etc. Things that somehow made the world a bigger place afterwards. What moves us and makes us think reveals a lot about who we really are.

Given the power of art in all these forms, I'd like to offer a list of 15 'media experiences' that really did 'change my life.' I'd also like to learn about similar experiences from the readers of this blog, so please feel free to post your own in the comments or link to your own blog entries on the subject. (A SIDE: I'm not a fan of arbitrary rules. Don't feel bound to list exactly 15 unless you find this constraint helpful in some way.)

In no particular order-

1. Putting On Airs (Album): This was the first music I ever spent my own money on, and my first expression of preference for a particular musical style (Irish traditional).

2. The Hunger for Significance by R.C. Sproul (Book): The Image of God actively enters my thoughts regarding every human relationship I have because of this book.

3. Thy Mercy My God (Song): This is the first song to ever truly drive me to tears. I had never really felt truth in my gut until I sang this song with Wade and the RUF team playing.

4. Spaghetti by Andrew Johnson (Culinary Arts): A little balsamic vinegar and rosemary opened my mind to one of my current favorite pasttimes. I love food.

5. The Chicago Tribune building (Architecture): Seeing the Tribune building dissappearing into the fog (or smog, I was never sure which it was) made me care about my physical environment for the first time.

6. Star Trek Deep Space Nine (TV Series): I always suspected that the world was not full of black hats and white hats, but with good and evil within the same people, warring with each other and each having wins and losses. But I believed it when I saw it portrayed in this show.

7. Grace Unknown by R.C. Sproul (Book): The simple sense of this book is the reason I am a reformed Presbyterian. That's pretty worldview shaping.

8. Genesis (Holy Book): I know it's kind of cheating to include a book of the Bible, but everything in my experience brings me back to thinking about what the world was made to be, why aren't the way they're supposed to be, and how God is making all things new again.

9. Prices and Information by W. Robert Reed (Book): This book convinced me that markets are as much a part of human nature as language. The logic of this book changed how I teach, study, and interpret the news.

10. She Must and Shall Go Free (Album): Jesus Christ loves his Church with a deep, burning passion that will not let her destroy herself. This album helped redefine love for me.

11. Josh Groban at the Ford Center (Concert): I had never experienced the mesmerizing power of a live musical performance before this. To be immersed in music is a good thing.

12. The Fellowship of the Ring (Movie): These characters were real to me before the movie, but Peter Jackson made them vivid and alive. This movie (and the others in the trilogy) didn't just capture my imagination, it expanded it.

13. Conspiracy Theory (Movie): As odd as it sounds, I was not interested in seeing this movie until I had a dream informing me it would be great. I pay attention to my dreams in part because this is one of my favorite movies of all time.

14. That Hideous Strength by C.S. Lewis (Book): This book captures my beliefs about logic and human reason. It also captures why I think aliens, monsters, and magiks aren't as far fetched as many 'logical' people believe.

15. The Dark Knight Returns by Miller, Janson, and Varley (Comic Book): I had set aside superheroes since childhood until I picked this up. I realized that comic heroes could be art that tested our values and held a mirror to our humanity.

There you have it. My 15 life changing albums. And by albums I mean artistic experiences. Or something like that.

So I Had to Write a Scholarship Essay

Prompt: “Given the opportunity, support, and funding, what one thing would you do to make the world a better place?”

Making the world a better place is a lofty goal, though somewhat broad. It is a bit like making wishes: I could say I would end war, or that I would end hunger, or that I would establish a colony on the moon for the preservation of humanity. The difficulty in answering such broad questions is that it is easy to say “I would do this if…” It is quite another thing to say “I will do this because…” Yet the most accurate answer I can give to the question of what I would do is to say what I will do to make the world a better place: Conduct research, teach young minds, raise a family, and generally pursue my own calling.

I believe one of the greatest things I could do to improve the world is to expand the knowledge and understanding of how we, as human beings, relate to that world and to each other within that world. My own research involves economic growth and development. It is often the goal of many to relieve the poverty and hunger that characterizes the majority of humanity to this day. While this is a grand goal, it cannot be achieved unless we first understand why some have become rich while others have remained poor. There are a vast array of conflicting beliefs about why this is the case, and an equal number of corresponding remedies. Yet history teaches us that unless we know and understand the true nature of the disease, we likely prescribe a cure in vain. What the world needs to end hunger and poverty is research, and this is something we can do now.

Many also wish to end ignorance and fear in the world. These are not problems that can go away quickly or easily. Ignorance can only be combated by learning, and learning demands teaching. Not all teaching takes place in formal environments, but the University is a setting where learning can be nurtured and new lessons can be applied. As a University teacher I will have the opportunity to open young minds to logic and to reasoning and to explanations of the world they had not previously considered. What the world needs to end ignorance is teaching, and this is something we can do now.

Still others wish to put an end to war. In world of finite resources this seems an impossible task. Yet if our children can learn from us to love our neighbors as ourselves, to love our enemies, to value them as human beings even when we dislike or disagree with them, then war will never seem to them a solution. Our children will look at us to see whether these things are true. If I love my wife, my daughter will notice. What the world needs to end war is family, and this is something we can do now.

We all want people to have full lives, enjoyable lives, meaningful lives. For this to happen we should spend less time trying to discover what the world needs, and more time doing what each of us is meant to do. Howard Thurman said that “what the world needs is people who have come alive.” People come alive when they pursue their own callings, regardless of what the pursuit of wealth or ‘keeping up with the Joneses’ tells them to do. To live full lives we must do what we were made to do, and this is something we can do now.

It is not enough to say what we would do if only we had this or that. I do not believe we were made only to wish that things were different. I do not believe our high goals of what is good, and right, and just, should only be pursued if this happens first or those resources become available to us. We must find what we ought to do, and then find what we need to do it.

Blurring and Stirring, Part II

(WARNING: The content below may contain images and references disturbing to some readers. This isn't your grandma's zombie story. It's more like your vertically gifted, aesthetically challenged friend's zombie story.)


"That's enough melodrama," Dr. West said. "You should really eat. You look famished." Dr. West gave Walter a piece of bread. "Jamie, there's that hawk you heard earlier."
They looked outside. The hawk perched atop the eastern fence. From the woods to the north, two pigeons caught sight of the bird of prey and flew directly toward it.
"What are they doing?" Walter asked.
"You don't want to know."
The pigeons attacked the hawk savagely. They all fell to the ground, and the pigeons began to peck the great bird's eyes out.
"That's gastly!" Walter said. He felt sick.
"Yes it is," Jamie said. "They're infected."
"Animals can't become zombies," Walter objected. "Joan said..."
"That depends on what you mean by 'zombie,'" Dr. West said. "It's not a very scientific term, you know. You might call the pigeons 'ghouls,' although the ones we're waiting for are a bit more homonid." Dr. West and Jamie both looked stern.
"If they come, when they come, we let the revenants free and get to the chopper," Jamie said.
"Why do you let those monsters free?"
"Because there's no cure for what the ghouls do to you," Dr. West said.
"Wait," Walter said, "there's a cure for what the... the zombies that are everywhere?"
"Sure," Jamie said, gesturing to steel medical kit on the table beside the cheese. "This case has half a dozen injections. Each will restore a revenant to his rightful mind."
"How long have you had this?" Walter asked.
"The whole time, of course," Dr. West said. "You think we'd let a reagent like this spread without some way to control it? Who do you think we are, the Amish?"
"Why hasn't the government cured these people?" Walter was outraged. "Why do you sit here, waiting, while people are dying?"
"Because there are worse things than dying," Dr. West said.
Suddenly, almost silently, flocks of birds to the north of the prison took to the air.
"It's happening," Jamie said. "It's actually happening."
People began running out of the woods. They can't be zombies, Walter thought. But he knew there was something wrong. They were gruesome, far more so than any of the zombies he had seen. Some without arms, mutilated, still bleeding. Dr. West flipped several switches on the control board. A buzzing sound signaled that all cells in the prison were being opened.
Zombies poured out of the cells. More people came out of the woods. They ran to the gates and lept, some clearing the fence, others shredded by the razor wire. All kept coming, regardless. West and Jamie began to run.
Walter glanced at the sturdy medkit still sitting on the table.
"Newman!" Jamie shouted.
"This is your one chance, come on!" Dr. West said.
Walter ran with them, medkit safely stored in his backpack.

Rose was froze. At least, that was the literary allusion best suited to her current state. She walked slowly, shivering despite her heavy coat. She was laden with supplies and the heavy shotgun.
"What I wouldn't give for some cheese and a good book," She said to herself. "I'm so loopy I'm talking to myself. Shouldn't have had that Guinness earlier." She was right, of course. Although alcohol can make anyone feel warm, it is decidedly a poor decision to consume any liquor before marching in the cold for the fourth straight day.
As she came through some trees into a clearing, she saw a farmhouse ahead. The house seemed to sit in the middle of a pond, although on closer inspection it actually sat on a strip of land surrounded on three sides. There was smoke rising from the chimney, and torch lights inside.
Gunshots rang out in the night. As Rose got closer, adrenaline began to pump into her veins. The house was under attack.
Several zombies approached the house along the narrow strip of land. A few more began to approach along the waterfront, but became confused and wandered off. As Rose watched, one was shot from inside the house, once to the head. Rose ran up to help. Hefting the shotgun, she killed two more before pounding on the front door.
"H-help me! Let me in!" She cried.
Shuffling sounds. The door opened.
"Get in, quick!"

The three ran past lumbering zombies as the new attackers smashed in the windows and the doors, charging in viciously. They attacked the zombies in the halls, slashing at their throats, wrestling them to the ground. One of the prisoner zombies grabbed one of the new zombies and threw it across the hall. Walter hadn't realized how strong the zombies were.
They stopped at a doorway, zombies of all types behind them. "OK," Dr. West said, "we've got to cross the yard to get to the helicopter. Don't stop running, no matter what happens, right Jamie?"
"I sure as hell ain't stopping," she said. "Keep up or I'm leaving you both."
The opened the door, and raced each other into hell. Blood was everywhere. Moaning, Shrieking, Biting, Slashing zombies everywhere. They were tearing each other apart. A ghoul saw them and abandoned its previous prey, charging them. Three more followed. Jamie fired blindly, but one reached her before she could stop it.
"No!" Dr. West shrieked. "She's our only way out of here!"
Walter struck the zombie on top of her in the head with his shovel, severing the top of the skull. It staggered back, but then turned toward him. He picked up Jamie's gun, but another zombie, slower and cleaner, stepped between him and his attacker.
"Jamie?" Walter asked. "Are you OK? Can you stand?"
Jamie rolled onto her stomach and vomited. She then looked up at Walter with bloodshot eyes and screamed. She charged him, arms extended. Without thinking, Walter shot, one to the head. Jamie reeled, but then turned and stared at him, the bullet clearly still lodged in her skull.
"She's gone, you fool! Run!" Dr. West yelled.
They ran back the way they came.

"What," Walter said as they caught their breath, "is going on, West!"
"There's some kind of parasite controlling them," Dr. West said. "That's all we can figure. As long as the nervous system is in tact, it controls the host's body."
"That's not what I mean," Walter said. "You said you wouldn't 'let a reagent' spread without a cure. Did you cause this? What have you done?!?"
"I did what I had to do," Dr. West said. "I did what I was told to do. I don't decide how my research is used. And I don't know where these ghouls come from. They told us they'd show up in Louisiana first, and we'd get word. That didn't happen."
Walter felt lost, as if he were the last man on earth. "Did you do something to the camp? What happened at the refugee camp?"
"It hardly matters now, doesn't it?" Dr. West said. "Neither of us is getting out of here alive. Not now that they got Jamie."
Down the corridors, they saw dozens of zombies lumbering the hallways. The ghouls did not seem to still be there.
Walter noticed a service ladder behind the door. "If we climb this ladder, can we reach the catwalk a floor up? Can we still get to the chopper?"
"Sure," Dr. West said, suddenly very calm. "Do whatever you have to, Newman." He began to walk resolutely down the hallway toward the zombies.
"What are you doing?!"
"I told you," Dr. West said, "there are worse things than dying." The zombies fell on him, and he began to scream.
Walter climbed. He managed to get onto the catwalk above the yard, with the zombie war still raging below him. He reached the other side and opened the door. A cold hand grasped his throat, its owner releasing a moan as it pushed him backwards. As Walter tried to aim Jamie's gun, the zombie bit him on the wrist, blood flowing out.
"AAAAARRRRGGHH!" Walter shouted. He fired the gun blindly, catching the zombie between the eyes. It fell backwards, dead, but more came from behind it. Walter stumbled back, clutching his arm. He turned to run, only to see another zombie racing across the catwalk toward him. Walter threw himself backwards, lost his balance, and tipped over the railing. He struck the ground with a cracking sound. In that moment, Walter felt pain unlike anything he thought possible. Walter breathed in once. His heart stopped. His eyes glazed, and closed.

"I'm Nat Cooper," the man said to Rose, "and this is my family."
Rose looked at the woman and two young boys. "It's nice to meet you," she said.
"Thank you for your help," Mrs. Cooper said.
"We only get a couple attacking every night," Nat said. "Tonight was worse than usual. Something must've driven them out of the woods. C'mon, let's get you upstairs and get you some food."
With a bowl of soup in hand, Rose looked at her surroundings. The house was well kept. On the second floor, it looked like any pre-Edisonian household might. As feeling returned to her toes, she even looked outside at the beauty of the moonlight.
These people's lifestyle resembled the kind Rose admired. It would have been positively cozy but for the four walking figures in the moonlight, far across the pond. As Rose looked, they weren't walking anymore. They were running. One only had one arm. And when they reached the pond, they dove in and began to swim.

Ten minutes after Walter Newman died, his eyes opened.

Blurring and Stirring, Part I

(WARNING: The content below may contain images and references disturbing to some readers. This isn't your grandma's zombie story. It's more like your vertically gifted, aesthetically challenged friend's zombie story.)


"...-ich is north and east of the metropolitan area along state highway one oh five. The prison gate is watched twenty-four seven. The guards have orders to admit any healthy individuals..."
Walter thought briefly about opening his eyes, but decided to roll over instead.
"They've been broadcasting all morning," Rose said.
Walter sat up and opened his eyes. "Who has?" He asked as he rubbed the back of his head.
"The national guard," Rose said. "It looks like they moved everyone who survived the camps to a prison. The government at its best, huh?"
Walter started to come around. "Where are we?"
"You don't remember, do you?" Rose said. "We got away from the mansion, but the road to the south was blocked by a hundred zombies. We ran the other way and got here last night. I found the radio upstairs, and some canned stuff in the kitchen."
"How far is the prison from here?"
"Why?" Rose said. "We can't go there, we've got to get back."
"How are we going to do that? Ask the zombies to clear the south road?"
"We go around the city," Rose said. "There's plenty of food and matches in the house here."
Walter sighed, noticing that he could see his breath. "Rose, it's really cold out, and it could take two weeks on foot to get around the city if we go far enough out to avoid the zombies. Let's be practical here. How far to the prison?"
Rose was clearly frustrated. "If we left in the next hour, we could probably be there tomorrow night."
"Do we have any guns?"
"There's a shotgun in the bedroom, but I haven't found the shells yet," Rose said.
"So, with one gun between us, we can either go a day and a half and get help from the military, or go ten days or more at the onset of winter, hoping to avoid trouble," Walter said.
"Walter," Rose said, "I don't think the guard is going to help us. You know what happened when they 'rescued' Liv and Reed." Rose supplied the air quotes. "They're the ones spreading this."
"You weren't there," Walter said. "Even Leon doesn't know what happened for sure. You're assuming..."
"I don't trust them," Rose said, "I don't want to tell them where our camp is, and I won't go to them for help."
"I have to get back to my family, Rose," Walter said. "I'm going to the prison, and you should come."
Rose paused. "You aren't my father, or my elder, or my husband. I'm not going there."

The shells had been under the bed. Not that it helped Walter much as he trudged on with a shovel over his shoulder, chafing beside his backpack. Of the two of them, Walter and Rose agreed he wasn't the one who would be needing the gun.

The afterglow from the sunset was just leaving the sky as Walter came in sight of the prison. Unfortunately, only a moment later the zombie huddled next to the tree came in sight of Walter. A solid swing of his shovel sent the zombie reeling, but a glance at the surrounding woods revealed that one man with a shovel would not be enough. Zombies came pouring from the trees: fat zombies, tall zombies, even child zombies. Walter ran.
Walter came to the seemingly abandoned gate. He pushed against it to no effect. He glanced up at the tower through razor wire preventing him from jumping the fence. The zombies closed in around him.
"Open up! Can anyone here me?"
A light came on in the tower. Walter pushed on the gate and it suddenly gave way. Walter ran in and closed the gate behind him. The front doorway into the prison was ajar ahead of him. Walter heard the cry of a bird of prey overhead as he walked inside.
"Hello?" Walter called to the abandoned hallway. He began to march through the prison, slowly becoming aware that he was not actually alone.
As he walked down the hallway of the prison, bars on either side, he could hear the simultaneous moaning and clanking coming from every zombie-filled cell.*
"Hello?" Walter said.
"UUNNGHH!" one zombie shouted as it reached through the bars to grab him. Others began reaching as well. Walter stumbled back.
"Hey! You there! Follow me," A woman yelled at Walter from an open doorway at the end of the hall. Walter did.
"My name's Jamie."
"Nice to meet you," Walter said. "What do you do here?"
"I'm the pilot," Jamie said as they walked through corridors. "When the time comes, I'm your ticket out of here."
"Where is everyone else?" Walter asked.
"Those are questions the doc will be better able to answer," Jamie said. "I just follow orders." After climbing several flights of stairs, they entered the tower.
"This is Dr. West," Jamie said, "he run things here."
"I hope the revenants in the woods didn't give you too much trouble," Dr. West said.
"You mean the zombies?" Walter said.
"Sure."
"Where's the national guard?" Walter asked. "I heard a radio recording saying this was a safe place for survivors."
"It's as safe as anywhere else, I suppose," Dr. West said. "A controlled environment, at least. The soldiers are in the cells, along with most of the survivors."
Walter's face grew grim. He gripped his shovel tighter before noticing the pistol holstered at Jamie's side. "The cells are full of zombies."
"That's true," Dr. West said.
"The national guard is zombies now?" Walter said, failing to contain his distress. "I came here for help getting back to my family."
"Yes, they are," Dr. West said, "but they're in excellent health otherwise. If you're lucky, your family will be revenants before you can reach them." Dr. West did not appear to be joking. "Have some bread and cheese."
"What's wrong with you? Don't you know what you've done to these people?!?" Walter was incensed.
"Mister...."
"Newman."
"Mr. Newman, I know more about what I've done to them than you can imagine," Dr. West said. "It is a far better thing that I have done than you are ever likely to comprehend. And as to what is wrong with us, we're tired, low on manpower, and still waiting."
"Waiting for what? The world to end?" Walter said, more than asked. "If you haven't noticed, it's already come!"
"Mr. Newman," Jamie said, "the worst is yet to come. Things further beyond our control are out out there, waiting, and so we wait as well."
"That's enough melodrama," Dr. West said. "You should really eat. You look famished." Dr. West gave Walter a piece of bread. "Jamie, there's that hawk you heard earlier."
They looked outside. The hawk perched atop the eastern fence. From the woods to the north, two pigeons caught sight of the bird of prey and flew directly toward it.
"What are they doing?" Walter asked.
"You don't want to know."

TO BE CONTINUED...