I Walked With A Zombie Quotes

I walked to the table and picked it up, doing as he asked. And then it struck me that I was setting a so-called zombie’s alarm clock for him, and I swear I heard something snap in my ears. I started laughing uproariously. I heard the monster’s bemused voice outside, asking me if I was alright, but that just made it funnier.

But honestly... I just don't know what anyone's thinking. To me, that's scarier than any half-rotten ghoul trying to eat my flesh.

Again he shook his head. The world's gone mad, he thought. The dead walk about and I think nothing of it. The return of corpses has become trivial in import. How quickly one accepts the incredible if only one sees it enough!

Those who have no sense of posterity or any concern for future generations are the ones who are really dead. I mean, they are dead right now. Walking zombies.

Tell me about mummies. Mummies exist. The Egyptians mummified people. Mummies that get up out of their cursed tombs and walk around do not exist. Do cursed tombs exist? No. Sometimes you get a tomb guarded by a demon. Zombies? The voudun kind, yes - the braaaaaaaiiiiinnnnnsss kind, no. Oh, oh, I've got one. What about a haunted car? Do you count a demon-powered motorcycle? No, like, the car talks back and tells you to kill people. Then no.

George had taken off all ten of his fingers and tied them into a bundle with what appeared to be either his own small intestines, or a guitar string; as I walked into the room, he lovingly placed the bundle on his head.

I'd love to watch TV all the time, but it rots our brains. Before I came down from Heaven Ma left it on all day long and got turned into a zombie that's like a ghost but walks 'thump thump.' So now she always switches off after one show, then the cells multiply again in the day and we can watch another show after dinner and grow more brains in our sleep.

But what am I, if not an infant? Born into a world of decay. Relearning how to walk and talk. Suckling from the bosom of hope.

I was arguing with the paramedics after they got me into the ambulance, begging for something to eat because I was so damn hungry. Maybe that’s why I didn’t walk into the stupid white light. Maybe I knew they wouldn’t have anything to eat down that way.

Zombies are the walking dead, only it isn't their bodies that have died but their hearts, their souls. I know they exist because I have become one.

And I suppose I might have grown up better, might have become a proper house girl or even taken Aunt Aggie's place as House Negro. I might have been a good girl if it had been in the cards. But all of that was dashed to hell two days after I was born, when the dead rose up and started to walk on a battlefield in a small town in Pennsylvania called Gettysburg.

She's hurt and still imagines I'd worry about him for even a second ? I touch her shoulder. Her touch her shoulder. Her dark hair brushes the back of my hand. Her dark eyes shine. Their brightness goes all the way down. "You found me," she says. I kneel beside her. I take her hand. "I found you". "My back is broken,"she says. "I can't walk." I slide my arms beneath her. "I'll carry you".

I walk toward what I think is the school, getting lost again and again until at last the moldering, vacant storefronts switch to juice bars and dog salons and I glimpse the Ivy Bubble. The towers upon which Ava and I have sat like gargoyles. Everyone on the street suddenly goes from looking like an extra in a zombie movie to the star of a French New Wave film.

I suppose I knew on an intellectual level that graves weren't especially made for getting out of. I mean, you start with a hermetically sealed casket and then you dump six feet of dirt on top of it. Over time the earth gets compacted, which can't make it easy to dig through. So even if you're a very angry and determined zombie, you've kind of got your work cut out for you just escaping from the grave. Which was, I suppose, why we got hit with an initial wave of zombie bugs, birds and rodents. I bet some people would say if you've never picked undead mosquitoes out of your teeth, you've never lived. Under that definition, I'd be just as happy to have not lived, thanks.

I walked into the café, bypassing the waiting people as I scanned for the hulking figure of my partner. It’s official , I thought with a sigh as I spied him at a table for four and realized who else was with him. God hates me.

I have to get stronger, harder, and faster. The only way to get hard enough to walk the Apocalypse Road is in the crucible of battle.

I came "here" to get "there." Do I have any fucking clue what "there" is? Hell the fuck no. I'm just trying to live in a world of the dead.

Everything good dies here. Even the stars.

I saw thousands of them. A sea of the dead that roared like an ocean! You would have heard them screaming toward you. It would have taken days to steer them away. Killing them? I don't think killing them would have been possible.

Inside the church, the bondsmaids were walking slowly down the aisle, with the little petal girls. Trinity turned to give Mimi her last words of motherly advice: 'Walk straight. Don't slouch. And for heavens's sake, smile! It's your bonding!?' Then she too walked through the door and down the aisle. The door shut behind her, leaving Mimi alone. Finally, Mimi heard the orchestra play the first strains of the 'Wedding March.' Wagner. Then the ushers opened the doors and Mimi moved to the threshold. There was an appreciative gasp from the crowd as they took in the sight of Mimi in her fantastic dress. But instead of acknowledging her triumph as New York?s most beautiful bride, Mimi looked straight ahead, at Jack, who was standing so tall and straight at the altar. He met her eyes and did not smile. 'Let's just get this over with.' His words were like an ice pick to the heart. He doesn't love me. He has never loved me. Not the way he loves Schuyler. Not the way he loved Allegra. He has come to every bonding with this darkness. With this regret and hesitation, doubt and despair. She couldn't deny it. She knew her twin, and she knew what he was feeling, and it wasn't joy or even relief. What am I doing? "Ready" Forsyth Llewellyn suddenly appeared by her side. Oh, right, she remembered, she had said yes when Forsyth had offered to walk her down the aisle. Here goes nothing. As if in a daze, Mimi took his arm, Jack's words still echoing in her head. She walked, zombie-like, down the aisle, not even noticing the flashing cameras or the murmurs of approval from the hard-to-impress crowd.

Francis Bacon is a good-looking young man. I don't think he has a girlfriend but I don't know. I don't think he has a boyfriend, either, but I don't know. If he has a group of friends at school, that where he keeps them. He doesn't get many phone calls here. He doesn't go out often. He keeps to himself, even in the family. He's pleasant and polite. Sure, he and I get into fights. He doesn't have his music loud enough. He doesn't drink or smoke enough. We never walk in on him having sex with some girl. It's regular family stuff. "Francis Bacon, are the cops ever going to come looking for you?" You know. That sort of thing.

I remembered Daemon's feather soft kisses on my cheek, and I remembered the clouds parting and the sun shining on a cold February day in Ireland. And as my baby girl was laid on my chest and my husband held my hand, I saw my best friend Kat walk into the sun kissed part in the clouds, hand in hand, along with the last regrets of my past.

said goodbye to Steve and I went home. As I was walking away, I could hear him start moaning again like before.

I walked into Elizabeth’s apartment feeling like a zombie. I needed brains.

Pinned under the air that grates like a claw Every time I look up to the sky I learn that I am trapped in this world If only that sky would crumble and fall I could fly to anywhere

It was never you. Leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done and I've regretted that decision every second since the moment I walked out. I've made a lot of dumbass mistakes in my life, but letting you go is the one I'd give anything to erase. - Jason

A Knock On The Door They ask me if I've ever thought about the end of the world, and I say, "Come in, come in, let me give you some lunch, for God's sake." After a few bites it's the afterlife they want to talk about. "Ouch," I say, "did you see that grape leaf skeletonizer?" Then they're talking about redemption and the chosen few sitting right by His side. "Doing what?" I ask. "Just sitting?" I am surrounded by burned up zombies. "Let's have some lemon chiffon pie I bought yesterday at the 3 Dog Bakery." But they want to talk about my soul. I'm getting drowsy and see butterflies everywhere. "Would you gentlemen like to take a nap, I know I would." They stand and back away from me, out the door, walking toward my neighbors, a black cloud over their heads and they see nothing without end.

I feel like I became a zombie Not alive, but I’m still walking And when the sunrise is upon me I’ll be waiting for the day to pass by, oh why? I became a zombie And there's nothing that can cure me So tomorrow I know I'll be just the same You'll see me wishin' to stop and close my eyes

Mr Freeman: "[...] When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time. You'd be shocked at how many adults are really dead inside - walking through their days with no idea who they are, just waiting for a heart attack or cancer or a Mack truck to come along and finish the job. It's the saddest thing I know.

Well, a big part of it is how people addicted to crack were treated back in the day.” I sniff and start walking. “People acted like those addicts were soulless zombies, or jokes, or problems to lock away and take their babies from. Now white people get hooked on something, and we’re building fancy new facilities to research how to fix things.

In high school I developed a habit of wandering through shopping malls after school, swaying through the bright, chill mezzanines until I was so dazed with consumer goods and product codes, with promenades and escalators, with mirrors and Muzak and noise and light, that a fuse would blow in my brain and all at once everything would become unintelligible: color without form, a babble of detached molecules. Then I would walk like a zombie to the parking lot and drive to the baseball field, where I wouldn't even get out of the car, just sit with my hands on the steering wheel and stare at the Cyclone fence and the yellowed winter grass until the sun went down and it was too dark for me to see.

The thing nobody tells you about grief is that time moves on. Or my personal favorite that nobody stops telling you—time heals all wounds. As if I want time to go anywhere. I want the world to stop. For every person to quit moving around me. For the screens to quit flashing and the zombies to stop walking so slowly down the streets that they almost get hit by cars.

Porkchop didn’t seem hurt by the words. He knew Doc’s wife and kids had been mercilessly slaughtered while the man had been forced to watch. He would have been next had not everyone merely left. “I’m still here.” He thrust his chin up. “Porkchop, I just want to die.” Doc turned his back to the light. “If you want the door shut, do it yourself.” Porkchop was crying as he walked out.

Oh sure, and you know who listens to them? Pansy, overeducated know-it-alls, and you know who listens to them? Nobody! Who’s going to care about some PBS-NPR fringe minority that’s out of touch with the mainstream? The more those elitist eggheads shouted “The Dead Are Walking,” the more most real Americans tuned them out. So, let me see if I understand your position. The administration’s position. The administration’s position, which is that you gave this problem the amount of attention that you thought it deserved. Right. Given that at any time, government always has a lot on its plate, and especially at this time because another public scare was the last thing the American people wanted. Yep. So you figured that the threat was small enough to be “managed” by both the Alpha teams abroad and some additional law enforcement training at home. You got it. Even though you’d received warnings to the contrary, that it could never just be woven into the fabric of public life and that it actually was a global catastrophe in the making. [Mister Carlson pauses, shoots me an angry look, then heaves a shovelful of “fuel” into his cart.] Grow up.

Emotions don’t know how to stitch back the way flesh could. How do you go to a person, your wife of two decades, and tell her you want to start over again? How do you say, “Forget everything we’ve got together. Forget the kids and the fights and all the good times, too. I take it all back.” How do you do that? It ain’t a lizard’s tail, those years. It ain’t something you walk away from and start over.

The thing nobody tells you about grief is that time moves on. Or my personal favorite that nobody stops telling you—time heals all wounds. As if I want time to go anywhere. I want the world to stop. For every person to quit moving around me. For the screens to quit flashing and the zombies to stop walking so slowly down the streets that they almost get hit by cars. I don’t want the cars to drive or the buses to come,

A day later the first stranger walked in. They’d taken to posting guards with whistles, so that they might be warned of a stranger’s approach. They’d all seen the post-apocalyptic movies with the dangerous stragglers fighting it out for the last few scraps. Although actually when she thought about it, Annette said, the post-apocalyptic movies she’d seen had all involved zombies. “I’m just saying,” she said, “it could be much worse.

I've been waiting for you," he murmured. Aphrodite slowly walked across the balcony, as her mind raced, trying to think of the perfect thing to say in return. All of a sudden a thought came to her that she didn't quite understand, but she knew it was right. It was also important, and would immortalize her and her actions for thousands of years to come. "Happy Valentine's Day," she purred, as she fell into his arms, still holding the box of chocolates and a single red rose.

We're all walking around like zombies half the time, and since the default setting of the mind is somewhere between chaos at one extreme and apathetic negativity at the other, we spend a good bit of our time just feeling like crap, unless of course you're taking a “feel-good” pill, then you might feel a little bit better than crap, except for the potential side-effects of drowsiness, decreased motivation and sex-drive, nausea, and anal leakage (just kidding, I don't think anal leakage is a true side-effect, but it may

Glaring coldly at us, the small crowd got out of their hard back chairs and zombied down the hall until the closing clanks of the big iron doors began. The expressionless men that wore drooling towels like bibs walked even slower but the burly attendants hurried them with a stinging crack of the wide leather belts, allowing them no dignity whatsoever. Thorazine, Prolixion, Haldol and any other psychotropic drug on the market maintained and assured obedience of the strictest kind, so it was fed like candy. No humanity, but I almost forgot. We are not human. Clank!

«Eliza opened her furry black satchel. She pulled out a portable CD player. “Gav, look here. Once, I loved this machine. Because it plays all my CDs. But nobody buys music in the stores any more! Even I don’t pay for music, and I’m rich! I’m carrying a zombie in my purse!” “Well, yes, that platform is obsolete now, but a new business model will arise for music.” “No it won’t! That’s a lie! Nobody will ever pay! The music business is the walking dead! Don’t lie to me.” Eliza stuffed her doomed device back in her furry purse. Gavin rubbed his chin. “Your Digital Native generation really has some issues.”»

I POINT OUT the embankment leading down to the water’s edge. “All the way down to that walking trail,” I say to Ringer. “And don’t wait for me.” She shakes her head, frowning. I lean in, keeping my expression as serious as I can. “I thought I had you with the zombie remark. One of these days, I’m going to get a smile out of you, Private.” Very much not smiling. “I don’t think so, sir.” “You have something against smiling?” “It was the first thing to go.” Then the snow and the dark swallow her. The rest of the squad follows. I can hear Teacup whimpering beneath her breath as Dumbo leads her off, going, “Run hard when it goes, Cup, okay?

Albert died in an unfortunate accident sometime ago and was raised as a zombie by his amateur necromancer friend, Neil. Bubba was a new friend we had acquired in Vegas when helping him gain back the freedom he had previously gambled away. The fourth member of our group, a government agent and my girlfriend named Krystal, was out of town for work this week, thus I was conducting my first weekly scrabble tournament with just the three of us. Which leaves only me to be accounted for in the explanation. My name. which I hope you know by now. is Frederick Frankford Fletcher and I am a vampire, though still not the type that inspires swooning or terror.

Life sometimes is like tossing a coin in the air calling heads or tails, but it doesn’t matter what side it lands on; life goes on. It is hard when you’ve lost the will to fight because you’ve been fighting for so long. You are smothered by the pain. Mentally, you are drained. Physically, you are weak. Emotionally, you are weighed down. Spiritually, you do not have one tiny mustard seed of faith. The common denominator is that other people’s problems have clouded your mind with all of their negativity. You cannot feel anything; you are numb. You do not have the energy to surrender, and you choose not to escape because you feel safe when you are closed in. As you move throughout the day, you do just enough to get by. Your mindset has changed from giving it your all to—well, something is better than nothing. You move in slow motion like a zombie, and there isn’t any color, just black and white, with every now and then a shade of gray. You’ve shut everyone out and crawled back into the rabbit hole. Life passes you by as you feel like you cannot go on. You look around for help; for someone to take the pain away and to share your suffering, but no one is there. You feel alone, you drift away when you glance ahead and see that there are more uphill battles ahead of you. You do not have the option to turn around because all of the roads are blocked. You stand exactly where you are without making a step. You try to think of something, but you are emotionally bankrupt. Where do you go from here? You do not have a clue. Standing still isn’t helping because you’ve welcomed unwanted visitors; voices are in your head, asking, “What are you waiting for? Take the leap. Jump.” They go on to say, “You’ve had enough. Your burdens are too heavy.” You walk towards the cliff; you turn your head and look at the steep hill towards the mountain. The view isn’t helping; not only do you have to climb the steep hill, but you have to climb up the mountain too. You take a step; rocks and dust fall off the cliff. You stumble and you move forward. The voices in your head call you a coward. You are beginning to second-guess yourself because you want to throw in the towel. You close your eyes; a tear falls and travels to your chin. As your eyes are closed the Great Divine’s voice is louder; yet, calmer, soothing; and you feel peace instantly. Your mind feels light, and your body feels balanced. The Great Divine whispers gently and softly in your ear: “Fallen Warrior, I know you have given everything you’ve got, and you feel like you have nothing left to give. Fallen Warrior, I know it’s been a while since you smiled. Fallen Warrior, I see that you are hurting, and I feel your pain. Fallen Warrior, this is not the end. This is the start of your new beginning. Fallen Warrior, do not doubt My or your abilities; you have more going for you than you have going against you. Fallen Warrior, keep moving, you have what it takes; perseverance is your middle name. Fallen Warrior, you are not the victim! You are the victor! You step back because you know why you are here. You know why you are alive. Sometimes you have to be your own Shero. As a fallen warrior, you are human; and you have your moments. There are days when you have more ups than downs, and some days you have more downs than ups. I most definitely can relate. I was floating through life, but I had to change my mindset. During my worst days, I felt horrible, and when I started to think negatively I felt like I was dishonoring myself. I felt sick, I felt afraid, fear began to control my every move. I felt like demons were trying to break in and take over my life.

Thank you, Clara,” I say. “How did you get the key?” “Dumb luck,” she says. “Those twins with the funny names dropped it just a few feet away from me.” “They… dropped it?” Those guys are the most skilled sleight-of-hand tricksters I’ve ever seen. Hard to imagine either of them dropping anything. “Yeah, they were juggling a bunch of things between them as they walked. The key just fell and they didn’t notice.” “But you did.” “Sure.” “How did you know it was the key to our police car?” She lifts the key tag to show me. It’s a clear plastic holder that’s probably meant for pictures. This one frames a piece of paper with a note scrawled in little-kid block letters: “Penryn’s police car—Super Secret.” If I ever see the twins again, it looks like I owe them a zombie-girl mud fight.

For the first and only time in my life I became political. Days and nights would pass with me monitoring the Senate on farcaster cable or lying tapped into the All Thing. Someone once estimated that the All Thing deals with about a hundred active pieces of Hegemony legislation per day, and during my months spent screwed into the sensorium I missed none of them. My voice and name became well known on the debate channels. No bill was too small, no issue too simple or too complex for my input. The simple act of voting every few minutes gave me a false sense of having accomplished something. I finally gave up the political obsession only after I realized that accessing the All Thing regularly meant either staying home or turning into a walking zombie. A person constantly busy accessing on his implants makes a pitiful sight in public and it didn’t take Helenda’s derision to make me realize that if I stayed home I would turn into an All Thing sponge like so many millions of other slugs around the Web. So I gave up politics.

I was getting my knife sharpened at the cutlery shop in the mall,” he said. It was where he originally bought the knife. The store had a policy of keeping your purchase razor sharp, so he occasionally brought it back in for a free sharpening. “Anyway, it was that day that I met this Asian male. He was alone and really nice looking, so I struck up a conversation with him. Well, I offered him fifty bucks to come home with me and let me take some photos. I told him that there was liquor at my place and indicated that I was sexually attracted to him. He was eager and cooperative so we took the bus to my apartment. Once there, I gave him some money and he posed for several photos. I offered him the rum and Coke Halcion-laced solution and he drank it down quickly. We continued to drink until he passed out, and then I made love to him for the rest of the afternoon and early evening. I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up it was late. I checked on the guy. He was out cold, still breathing heavily from the Halcion. I was out of beer and walked around the corner for another six-pack but after I got to the tavern, I started drinking and before I knew it, it was closing time. I grabbed my six-pack and began walking home. As I neared my apartment, I noted a lot of commotion, people milling about, police officers, and a fire engine. I decided to see what was going on, so I came closer. I was surprised to see they were all standing around the Asian guy from my apartment. He was standing there naked, speaking in some kind of Asian dialect. At first, I panicked and kept walking, but I could see that he was so messed up on the Halcion and booze that he didn’t know who or where he was. “I don’t really know why, Pat, but I strode into the middle of everyone and announced he was my lover. I said that we lived together at Oxford and had been drinking heavily all day, and added that this was not the first time he left the apartment naked while intoxicated. I explained that I had gone out to buy some more beer and showed them the six-pack. I asked them to give him a break and let me take him back home. The firemen seemed to buy the story and drove off, but the police began to ask more questions and insisted that I take them to my apartment to discuss the matter further. I was nervous but felt confident; besides, I had no other choice. One cop took him by the arm and he followed, almost zombie-like. “I led them to my apartment and once inside, I showed them the photos I had taken, and his clothes neatly folded on the arm of my couch. The cops kept trying to question the guy but he was still talking gibberish and could not answer any of their questions, so I told them his name was Chuck Moung and gave them a phony date of birth. I handed them my identification and they wrote everything down in their little notebooks. They seemed perturbed and talked about writing us some tickets for disorderly conduct or something. One of them said they should take us both in for all the trouble we had given them. “As they were discussing what to do, another call came over their radio. It must have been important because they decided to give us a warning and advised me to keep my drunken partner inside. I was relieved. I had fooled the authorities and it gave me a tremendous feeling. I felt powerful, in control, almost invincible. After the officers left, I gave the guy another Halcion-filled drink and he soon passed out. I was still nervous about the narrow escape with the cops, so I strangled him and disposed of his body.

Fleur and I were walking along together

Jack searched around the chests in the tower and found a double chest with Instant Health Potions. He gave me one and put the others in this inventory. I drank the potion and recovered my health – my injuries disappeared, and I could walk again. “Hurry, let’s get down there and give the Zombies a potion!” I said. We rushed to the battlefield and gave the Zombies one potion each. They recovered their energy.

I think that all that time I’d spent accepting the fact that I was already dead made me sort of a walking zombie among the living back home. Every person I looked at I would see as horribly disfigured, shot, maimed, bleeding, and needing my help. In some ways it was worse than being in Iraq, because the feelings were not appropriate to the situation and because I no longer had my buddies around to support me emotionally. I spent a good deal of time heavily dependent on alcohol and drugs, including drugs such as Clonazepam prescribed by well-meaning psychiatrists at the VA, drugs that were extremely addictive and led to a lot of risky behavior. However, I still had a dream of learning how to meditate and entering the spiritual path, a dream that began in college when I was exposed to teachings of Buddhism and yoga, and I realized these were more stable paths to well-being and elevated mood than the short-term effects of drugs. I decided that I wanted to learn meditation from an authentic Asian master, so I went to Japan to train at a traditional Zen monastery, called Sogen-ji, in the city of Okayama. Many people think that being at a Zen monastery must be a peaceful, blissful experience. Yet though I did have many beautiful experiences, the training was somewhat brutal. We meditated for long hours in freezing-cold rooms open to the snowy air of the Japanese winter and were not allowed to wear hats, scarves, socks, or gloves. A senior monk would constantly patrol the meditation hall with a stick, called the keisaku, or “compassion stick,” which was struck over the shoulders of anyone caught slouching or closing their eyes. Zen training would definitely violate the Geneva Conventions. And these were not guided meditations of the sort one finds in the West; I was simply told to sit and watch my breath, and those were the only meditation instructions I ever received. I remember on the third day at the monastery, I really thought my mind was about to snap due to the pain in my legs and the voice in my head that grew incredibly loud and distracting as I tried to meditate. I went to the senior monk and said, “Please, tell me what to do with my mind so I don’t go insane,” and he simply looked at me, said, “No talking,” and shuffled off. Left to my own devices, I was somehow able to find the will to carry on, and after days, weeks, and months of meditation, I indeed had an experience of such profound happiness and expanded awareness that it gave me the faith that meditation was, as a path to enlightenment, everything I had hoped for, everything I had been promised by the books and scriptures.

I gave her away, and now I’m a walking fucking zombie.

and I thought it might be fun to walk along the

Again? Man, just for once I would like to have cake for breakfast.” “What’s that on your face?” Mom asked. “Uh… I was scratching my pimples a lot yesterday to see if I could get them to grow. And one of them grew really big.” “Don’t scratch them too much or you might pop them. Remember, you want them to be nice and ripe, and full of pus,” Mom said. “You want to look your best for the party this weekend, don’t you?” “Sure. OK. Mom.” I tried to keep my head still as I walked to school.

I feel things for you. Strong things, like deep down in my gut type things. I spent so many years fucking men for money. No strings. No attachments. I was walking around like a zombie, just numb. You show up and all of a sudden, I’m drowning in feelings. I’m cuddling you, kissing you and having orgasms, and shouting out shit that doesn’t even make any sense, given our relationship. It’s been like what? A week? Things like this are not supposed to happen.

Where’s the fire?” I slow my pace, falling into step beside her. “Sorry,” I mutter. “This is my normal walk. Maybe you should try to walk a little faster.” “Well, your normal walk is like jogging for me and I don’t jog,” she says. “Actually, I only run if someone is chasing me or there’s a zombie apocalypse.” I can’t help but laugh. “You’re something else, Little McCallister.

Nova felt faint. Ask me to walk on broken glass, my darling. Ask me to tear my heart out and give it to you. Ask me to swim around the world, to out-run a Titanide, to wrestle a zombie. Ask any of these things and I will do them gladly, or die in the attempt, for you.

Claire scraped her chair back, walked over to the cordless phone lying on the counter, and dialed from the business card still stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet. Four rings, and a cheerful voice answered on the other end and announced she’d reached Common Grounds. “Hi,’” Claire said. “Can I talk to Sam, please?’” “Sam? Hold on.’” The phone clattered, and Claire could hear the buzz of activity in the background—milk being steamed, people chatting, the usual excitement of a busy coffee shop. She waited, jittering one leg impatiently, until the voice came back on the line. “Sorry,’” it said. “He’s not here tonight. I think he went to the party.’” “The party?’” “You know, the zombie frat party? Epsilon Epsilon Kappa? The Dead Girls’ Dance?’” “Thanks,’” Claire said. She hung up and turned to face Michael and Eve, who were staring at her in outright surprise. She held up the phone. “The power of technology. Embrace it.

Distracted by texting Susan, I was surprised by another moaner. The thing was in the middle of the sidewalk, facing me and moaning. “Where in the fuck did you come from?” I spoke as if the thing might actually answer. With another moan, the monster swung out its arm in an attempt to hit me. When the thing’s fist contacted with nothing but air, the moaner lurched forward and moaned again, this time louder. It seemed like the thing was trying to summon its buddies to help bring me down. I started walking backward when something tripped up my legs and took me down. “Goddamn it, who left the dead girl in the middle of the fucking sidewalk?” I screamed.

Sometimes I have to act crazy to handle the crazies. Trying to be normal near the crazies makes me as crazy as them. The more I push reason and logic on them, the more they pervert it and use it against me, the angrier they make me feel. It's much easier to pretend they're ghosts talking to the wind, and ignore them as if they weren't really human. My mood improves, my self-esteem is better and I feel happier. On another hand, maybe I'm just being realistic here, because you can't really talk to the dead. That's what people without respect or empathy are; dead in the brain; just walking bodies without a soul.

The walking dead weren’t in my back yard, but they were close. If they came through the gate now, this was going to be a short novella. My towel caught on the next-to-useless excuse for a lock on the door. I didn’t even stop to grab it. Somehow it seemed nobler to die naked like a savage than with a terry cloth towel around my waist. I

Fane took deliberate steps down the aisle of the bench, straight to the edge. He jumped from the bleachers, causing them to rock in his wake. I swore I felt a thud inside the pit of my stomach when he landed. Mr. Mooney nodded at Fane. “You two are playing Clayton and Tyler.” Fane walked past me and took two rackets off the floor. He handed me one. I took it from his outstretched hand then followed several steps behind. Part of me was relieved he didn’t say anything. All I could think about was the obscene gesture he’d made right before my world turned up-side-down. I hardly noticed his hair. I was too distracted by his lips. And now his abs. Luckily, I wouldn’t have to look at either while we played side by side. At the far court, Clayton and Tyler bounced birdies up and down on the strings of their rackets. Clayton nudged Tyler as we approached. “Oh great. Goth boy and zombie girl. This should be fun.” I took my place beside Fane. He held his racket loose and lazy. I barely held mine at all. Clayton pelted the birdie at me. I tried to shield my face and ended up dropping my racket. “Oh, come on!” Clayton shouted. I picked up the birdie and threw it over the net. Clayton served the birdie to Fane, who smacked it over the net with the flick of a wrist. Tyler launched the birdie at me. It hit me on the shoulder, but I swung anyway as it bounced to the floor.

We have a witch that lives on our street. I think she’s funny looking. She has a big nose with a mole on it. She walks around mad all of the time. I would be mad too if I had a big nose with a mole on it. One day Skelee asked the witch what it’s like to have a big nose with a mole on it. She just walked away…mad.

Oh, and I spend a lot of time on The Walking Dead reddit. Too much time. Last night I stayed up until two a.m. arguing with some neckbeard about whether or not you could kill a zombie with another zombie’s spinal column. Which you can’t, obviously, given the rate of bone decay among the walkers.

It was there. In my mind. After the call I’d just taken, after talking with LaForce. But I wouldn’t say it out loud. Wouldn’t even let myself form the complete thought in my head. Wasn’t believing it. No fucking way zombies were real. Day of the Dead, Dawn of the Dead, Night of the Living Dead, The Walking Dead – Fuck no. Fuck Milla Jovovich and all of that shit.

I’m going to walk through my life being Shaun Mason, the Dude Who Copes. Copes with a world filled with stupid people. Copes with a life that doesn’t include the one person who ever really mattered. Copes with everyone asking him whether he’s “coping,” when the answer should be totally obvious to anyone with a brain. How am I coping? I miss George, and the goddamn world is still full of zombies, that’s how. Everything else… Everything else is just details. And those don’t really matter to me anymore.

What if mankind has become so neurotic in their loss of fellowship to God that they have become “walking dead people”? What if we have so lost our remembrances of fellowship with God that we are nothing but walking zombies? Indeed Scripture seems to indicate that very fact, declaring over and over that we are dead in our trespasses and sins. As I look over Genesis, early man had long life, beyond anything we conceive of today. I do wonder if that was the reflection of their relationship with the Lord, strong as they remember his glory and what it was like to walk with him, but fading into a pattern of short lives and disease and death. I am convinced that we do not even realize our zombie-like condition. If the Bible is to be believed, as I always choose to do, then man is dead, corpses walking and breathing, but without any conception of what life is truly like. One day, perhaps right after we are allowed to drink from His spring of living water, then and only then, will we realize just how dead we really were.

When I came to this country in America which was in New York City which is crowd-est place in the world first thing I saw; people walking literally constantly back and forth and then first thing went through my mind a question like 'why are this people walking around like zombies' seriously people in America specially New York people are dead walking meaning by this that people are 'off' from reality.

He was drop-dead gorgeous and I, well I was just ... dead." (Tera Hightower, Dead Chick Walking)

Fortunately, Dallas takes pity on me and gives me a little tutorial, walking me through the first scene of the game, letting me get used to turning and shooting and punching and all that good stuff. He also lets me have all the health bonuses we find. Not to mention the ammo. "Told you I'd always protect you," he says with a grin. I smile back but, honestly, his words make me a little melancholy. And when he looks sideways at me with a crooked smile, I know he realizes it. "Should I apologize?" I shake my head and grab a handful of popcorn. "Just play." He does, and since we're partners against the zombie horde, I can't actually say he beats me. What I can say is that I died four times in the first fifteen minutes, and by minute seventeen Dallas is laughing his ass off. "Do I need to tell you how pathetic you are at this game?" "You really don't," I say as the screen flashes death number five. "Remind me to come rescue you when the zombie apocalypse happens. Without me, you're zombie food.

My life is ruined! My parents came home last night talking about how the teacher showed them the great essay I wrote. “I never knew you liked camp so much, son,” Dad said. “Yes, Honey. We were going to give you the summer to do whatever you wanted,” my Mom said. “Now that we know you love camp so much, we signed you up to go to camp this summer. There was a camp representative at the Parent-Teacher conference last night, so we signed you up right away.” “We even put down a non-refundable deposit for it too, son,” Dad said. “So, congratulations, you’re going to camp!” OMZ! My life is totally ruined! Now I’m going to spend my summer in the Swamp Biome at camp. Oh man, this is terrible! What am I going to do?!! I decided to ask Steve some advice on how to get out of my terrible situation. I found Steve in a cave crafting some fireworks. All of a sudden, “BOOOOMMM!” All that was left of him were his tools and his weapons. A few minutes later, Steve walked into the cave behind me. I totally understand how he does that trick now. “Hey, Steve!” “Wassup, Zombie?” Steve said. “I have a question for you.” “Shoot!” Steve said. So, I picked up his bow and arrow and I shot him. “Ow! What’d you do that for?” “You told me to shoot,” I said. “Forget about it. What’s your question?” “My Mom and Dad are making me go to camp this summer,” I said. “But I don’t want to go. I’ve got to find a way out of it, and I need your help.” “Why are they sending you to camp?” Steve asked. “Well, I kind of told them I wanted to go.” “And now, you don’t want to go?” Steve asked. “No, I never wanted to go,” I said. Steve just looked at me… Confused. “Well, I thought if I wrote an essay about how much I wanted to go to camp, my Mom and Dad wouldn’t send me to camp,” I said. After I said it out loud, I realized how dumb that idea was. “It sure made sense at the time,” I said. “So, you want to get out of camp, but your parents think you really want to go?” Steve asked. “Yeah.” “Well, you could always get in trouble and they’ll punish you by taking away your summer camp,” Steve said. Man, Steve is so smart. That was the best idea I have ever heard. So, I’ve got to get in trouble so that my parents will punish me by taking camp away. I can do that. I just have to find a class that I can fail this semester, and they’ll punish me for sure if that happens. See, this is why I always go to Steve when I need some good advice.

I still don’t think Creepy’s parents understand him very well. It’s probably why he walks around naked all of the time. I

Creepy’s parents sent him another liquid Nitrogen inhaler and some baby powder. He also got some shirts and pants, which is weird because the shirts had arm holes and the pant legs were really long. I still don’t think Creepy’s parents understand him very well. It’s probably why he walks around naked all of the time. I

Oh, and I spend a lot of time on The Walking Dead reddit. Too much time. Last night I stayed up until two a.m. arguing with some neckbeard about whether or not you could kill a zombie with another zombie’s spinal column.

got all my stuff together and waddled downstairs, and found my Mom preparing my lunchbox. “Mom, what’s that?!!” “It’s the lunchbox you wanted, right?” “No, you were supposed to get the Pokémon lunchbox with Pikachu!” “This one has Pikachu, doesn’t it? The lady at the store said it was the most popular one.” “That’s Pichu, not Pikachu. Waaaaahhhhh!!!!” Now I’ve got to walk around school with a pink Pichu lunchbox. I might as well accept that my life is over. I should just take a marker and write the word “Loser” on my shirt with a big arrow pointing to my smooth face. Except nobody will be able to read it because my shirt is so small! “Waaaaahhhh!!!!

Worst of all, I had to walk around school all day with these clothes on.

I can’t believe we’re making jokes when we have sex zombies walking around.” “Sex zombies?” Billy asked. “Yeah. What would you call them?” Billy thought about it. “Sex zombies it is.

She smiled and whispered, "I'm kissing you right now." He swore softly, frustration evident in the snap of his voice. "I'm kissing you too." With that she had to be content enough to walk away.

I don’t know what I was expecting. The boogie monster? ET? A friggin’ zombie from Walking Dead?

Hecate dresses in all black, is extremely pale, unearthly beautiful and has the most chilling eyes I’ve ever known. All in all, she comes across as one of ‘The Walking Dead’ – except alive and far prettier!

There are bad people out there, Jimmy. I don’t know if you’ve seen them… they walk around like they’re lost. And they make people sick by hurting them. That’s why we stay inside.

Eleven years into this, I am able to sleep through any amount of noise and temperature. Sometimes I wake up and hope I slept through a Walking Dead–type zombie apocalypse and I have to lead humans into a new world order.

walking home from school today I noticed that people in the neighborhood were putting up Halloween decorations around their houses. One

glanced over at a pair of red chests located in the far corner right as a little kid popped out from behind. He wasn't older than a toddler, really. His thin blond hair stuck up on top. He waved his arms as if to say hi. He looked cute except for his frosted eyes and blood dripping down his lips. "Oh dang. It's a baby," Misty said. "Yeah, a baby zombie," I said. "Kill it." The little kid walked towards us on unsteady feet, smiling like it wanted to be friends. Only it really wanted to eat our flesh. I'd taken off my Super Soaker to drive. I had nothing to shoot with. "Someone, shoot that thing!" I screamed. "Nate, I don't think I can shoot a baby." "It's not a baby, it's a zombie—look at its eyes. Kali, you shoot it. Do it now!

the undead? Zombies? The Walking Dead? Whatever you want to call it, I

I walked out onto the stage and I started telling the tale of the “Untold Story of the Origin of Zombies.” And it went like this: Where do Zombies come from? Not many people know. But after some extensive investigative Zombie journalism, we’ve discovered the truth. It all began when the human government decided that they wanted to create stronger soldiers. They had lost too many battles, and now they wanted to win every war that they fought. So they approached some soldiers in their army to join a special secret project. The only requirement was that the soldiers they chose had no living relatives. This way, no one could claim their bodies in case something went wrong. So, they exposed these soldiers to an experimental virus to enhance their abilities and make them into super soldiers. The experiment seemed to be working. But then, something terrible happened... The soldiers went crazy, and they were horribly disfigured. Ultimately, the experiment claimed their lives. But, when the soldiers were being prepared for burial, they suddenly came to life. They were not only walking, but they had enhanced strength, enhanced sense of smell and enhanced hearing. They attacked the soldiers in charge of burying them. And the recently bitten soldiers also transformed into the living dead. Before long, the entire army base was contaminated with the virus. Once everyone in the base was exposed, the virus mutated and the soldiers began having an overwhelming craving for something warm and mushy. They longed for brains! Soon, the army of the living dead found their way to the next unsuspecting town in search of brains. They attacked that town, biting anything that moved both human and animal. Soon that town was overrun. The virus spread from town to town, and city to city, until the entire world was contaminated. It was the first Zombie Apocalypse. After hundreds of years had passed, the Zombies started to evolve and began developing intelligent thoughts. They began forming villages, and then towns, and then entire cities of Zombies were created. The Zombies made great advances in health and science, and became highly advanced technologically. But, eventually the Zombies’ appetite for brains and warm flesh gave way to an even greater craving... The craving for CAKE! Their overwhelming desire for cake resulted in an explosive rise in the baking industry. Cake shops began springing up on every corner of every Zombie city street. They just couldn’t get enough! The human race began growing again, too. Human villages of farmers and miners began springing up. And because the Zombies were a peaceful race, they coexisted with the humans by staying away from them. But soon, the Zombie’s resources began to become scarce, especially the cake. So Zombies began scaring villagers in order to get the supplies they needed, especially the highly valued resource of cake. Now Zombies send their kids to Scare School to train their children from a very young age. They train them on how to effectively scare humans in order to get their needed supplies, especially cake. And so it has been until today. Thank you.

I went to go visit Steve today to talk about our strategy for surviving camp. I went to our usual spot, but I couldn’t find him. I walked by some bushes, when all of a sudden… “HHEEEAAHHHHHHH!!!!” “AAAHHHH!!!” I yelled. Steve jumped out of the bushes, all dressed in green and brown paint. “Hey Zombie!” Steve said. “What’d you do that for?!!” I said. “You scared the life out of me!” “But I thought you were dead?” Steve said. “Forget it. What’s up with the outfit?” I asked. “I put it together so that we can hide out and catch our enemies by surprise,” Steve said. “I’ve got some more green and brown paint for you too.” “Don’t worry about me,” I said, “After that scare, I think I made enough green and brown paint to last me the whole summer.” “So

PITCH BLACK, but a spotlight beamed down on a microphone in the middle of the circus ring. I wheeled Steve to the edge of the spotlight, but left the black sheet over him. Then I walked up to the microphone. ‘Hi, my name is Zombie.’ SILENCE. I didn’t know who I was speaking to. The spotlight was shining so brightly it blinded me, making the audience

If that’s the price for being with him, I’ll pay it. I spent too long walking through my days as a zombie to pass up this electric new life, even if it does have its dark sides. All fairy tales do.

Today was Rajit’s first day of school. I walked him to school so he could find his way. “I’m not used to hopping around to get different places,” Rajit said. “It is primitive, but very practical.” “How do you normally get to school?” “Well, I just teleport to one of the rooms at our estate.” “You have a school at your house? Doesn’t that mean that you’re homeschooled?” “Yes, I guess it does. Since it’s the only school in our biome, then I guess everyone else is homeschooled at my house too.” Wow. It must be really nice being rich. “Well, this is the principal’s office. He’ll probably assign you a buddy to show you around the school. I’ve got to get to class, so I’ll see you later.

There’s this new glitch messing everything up. He calls himself Pigrothbrine. He only showed up a couple days ago and already he is in control of everything!” Otis growled and stomped on the ground. “Where is he?” “You … you’ve heard of him?” Trevor gasped. “Look at me, kid,” said Otis. “How do you think I got to look like this?” Trevor looked at Otis and gasped. “But … weren’t you a zombie pigman when you rescued Baby Zeke a couple months ago?” Otis thumped his chest. “I still am. But I have to kill Pigrothbrine in order to get my skin back.” “If that works,” I said. I turned back to Trevor. “What’s Pigrothbrine doing?” Trevor took a deep breath and sighed. He shook his cube sadly. “You remember Cassius the husk, right? Well, after he stirred up all the anger and anxiety of the nether mobs against the surface dwellers, there have been mutterings about his ideology. Pigrothbrine found out about it and is exploiting the anger to mobilize another army. They’re calling themselves the Sons of Cassius.” I shook my head. “That’s terrible. Do you think they’ll actually carry out Cassius’ plans to conquer the Overworld?” “I don’t know. All I know is that anyone who disobeys Pigrothbrine or his generals ends up despawned.” Trevor paused, sniffed, and then began to cry. “Just … just like my parents.” I reached out and touched his cube to console him. “What happened?” “They tried to keep the promise they made to you not to do anything against Minecraft. But when they refused to let their people become members of the Sons of Cassius, they were struck down by bolts of lightning that came out nowhere.” “So, he can make lightning work even in the Nether?” said Heidi. “That’s amazing.” I nodded and then looked at Trevor. “What did you do after your parents were … despawned?” “I had to join the army. Pigrothbrine wouldn’t let me ascend to my rightful place on the throne. He appointed one of his magma cube generals to run the kingdom.” “How did you escape?” I asked. “Pigrothbrine and his generals have us building canals to channel lava rivers into big pools. No one knows why. Earlier today, when I was walking next to a lava stream, I jumped in. I drifted downstream for a while before jumping out and locating a nether portal to the surface. Then, I hopped here as quickly as I could.” Otis looked at me with fire in his eyes. I could tell that his attitude toward pursuing Pigrothbrine had changed from his reluctance just a few hours ago. “Let’s go. Pigrothbrine has only been in existence for a couple of days and it sounds like he’s already causing apocalyptic damage. Let’s go see what we can do about it.” “I don’t know. It seems dangerous.” Otis scowled at me. “Aren’t you the Warrior? We didn’t even know where Pigrothbrine was a few minutes ago, but now we do. We have to take the fight to him.” I looked at Trevor. “Is Pigrothbrine actually down there? I mean, have you seen him recently?” “Part pig, part enderman?” said Trevor. “Exactly.” Trevor nodded his head. “He’s living in the nether fortress inside the kingdom of the magma cubes in a nether wastes biome. If anyone needs to go talk to him that’s where they go. I’ve never been inside the fortress, but that’s where everyone says he is living.” Heidi reached into her inventory and pulled out her newly-acquired netherite sword. “Let’s go get him. With the three of us working together ….” She looked at Trevor and smiled. “With the four of us working together, maybe we can take him out.” “Maybe,” I said. “I guess we go and conduct reconnaissance at least. Maybe when we get back Zeb will have figured something out.” “Well, if we find Pigrothbrine, I’m going to kill him,” snarled Otis. “Reconnaissance is for wimps.” Trevor ignored Otis and said, “Thank you, Baby Zeke. Thank you, everybody.” “So how do we get to this nether portal you used?” “I could take you there, but it comes out inside the Nether near a worksite controlled by Pigrothbrine.

before. Right now, I did not want to think about zombies. I was much too happy to think about such a nasty subject. I had found Larry! Alex was already building her own home nearby! What news was better than that? With a nervous smile I walked back to my castle. Three new members of the neighborhood. Three friends to begin all sorts of adventures. Alex was waiting at the

CHAPTER ONE The Secret Stronghold CHAPTER TWO Dave on the Road CHAPTER THREE Porkins CHAPTER FOUR Carl CHAPTER FIVE Captured by Zombies CHAPTER SIX The Portal CHAPTER SEVEN The Nether CHAPTER EIGHT The Pigmen CHAPTER NINE Caught CHAPTER TEN Entering the Fortress CHAPTER ELEVEN Blazes CHAPTER TWELVE Swords at the Ready CHAPTER THIRTEEN The King of the Pigmen CHAPTER FOURTEEN Escape CHAPTER FIFTEEN Snow EPILOGUE -- BOOK TWO -- PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE Nothing but Snow CHAPTER TWO Bear! CHAPTER THREE Finding Shelter CHAPTER FOUR Under the Igloo CHAPTER FIVE Phillip and Liz CHAPTER SIX The Wither CHAPTER SEVEN Ripley CHAPTER EIGHT The Underground Room CHAPTER NINE Zombie Attack! CHAPTER TEN Steve Turns to the Dark Side CHAPTER ELEVEN Ripley's Plan CHAPTER TWELVE Statue Fight CHAPTER THIRTEEN Robo-Steve's Last Stand CHAPTER FOURTEEN Goodbye Again CHAPTER FIFTEEN Return to the Nether CHAPTER SIXTEEN Dave vs Enderman CHAPTER SEVENTEEN The Ender Hunters CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Hunting Trip CHAPTER NINETEEN Pearls CHAPTER TWENTY The Witch CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Bedrock CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Lava CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Giant Lava Herobrine CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Return to the Nether (Again!) CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Nothing but Water EPILOGUE -- BOOK THREE -- CHAPTER ONE Water, Water, Everywhere... CHAPTER TWO Carl Gets Left Behind CHAPTER THREE Bubbles and Zombies CHAPTER FOUR Locked Up CHAPTER FIVE The Floating Dead CHAPTER SIX The Underwater Pyramid CHAPTER SEVEN Dave Alone CHAPTER EIGHT The Pirates CHAPTER NINE Aquatropolis CHAPTER TEN The Mysterious Island CHAPTER ELEVEN Carl the Pirate CHAPTER TWELVE Princess Alicia CHAPTER THIRTEEN The Kraken Attacken CHAPTER FOURTEEN Reunited CHAPTER FIFTEEN Drowned CHAPTER SIXTEEN Carl's Big Decision CHAPTER SEVENTEEN The Kraken Returns CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Aftermath EPILOGUE -- BOOK FOUR -- CHAPTER ONE Cool Island CHAPTER TWO Cool City CHAPTER THREE Derek Cool CHAPTER FOUR The Opening Ceremony CHAPTER FIVE Battle Royale! CHAPTER SIX A Lovely Walk CHAPTER SEVEN Thag CHAPTER EIGHT Carl Steps Up CHAPTER NINE Gammon CHAPTER TEN I Can Smell You! CHAPTER ELEVEN Carl the Golem CHAPTER TWELVE Curly CHAPTER THIRTEEN What Now? CHAPTER FOURTEEN Metal in the Moonlight CHAPTER FIFTEEN Critical Error CHAPTER SIXTEEN A Trio of Cool Dudes CHAPTER SEVENTEEN The Purple Pearl CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Totally Cool! EPILOGUE -- BOOK FIVE -- CHAPTER ONE Land Ahoy! CHAPTER TWO The Mine CHAPTER THREE Greenleaf CHAPTER FOUR The Secret Base CHAPTER FIVE Dave Makes a Plan CHAPTER SIX The Plan Begins CHAPTER SEVEN Porkins's Dilemma CHAPTER EIGHT The Night Before CHAPTER NINE Little Bacon CHAPTER TEN Elder Crispy CHAPTER ELEVEN Attack! CHAPTER TWELVE Once More Into the Nether CHAPTER THIRTEEN The Pit CHAPTER FOURTEEN Zombie Potion CHAPTER FIFTEEN Goodbyes EPILOGUE Thank You Newsletter Dave is on Facebook!

Okay, the bell is about to ring, so I want you all to finish that worksheet about the different uses for SHOVELS as homework. Now, remember we have our excursion to the Mob Science Museum tomorrow. If you haven’t already handed in your signed permission slip, you need to give it to me tomorrow before you board the bus. And—’ Ms. Bones was cut off when the school bell rang. Nobody stuck around to hear the end of her sentence, instead packing their bags and fleeing the school. ‘Duuuude,’ Skelee said next to me as we walked into the hallway. ‘The Mob Science Museum is gonna be HECTIC. I’m excited! There’s gonna be buzzy things and gloopy things and exploding things!’ ‘If you wanna see exploding things, come over when I’m doing homework,’ Creepy said sadly. Skelee rolled his eye sockets. ‘What are you most excited about?’ he asked me. ‘The rocket!’ I answered quickly. ‘The rocket is gonna be the best part. I hope it works and they show us. And I wanna see the big BUZZY ball of electricity too.’ ‘Same,’ Skelee nodded. ‘Big buzzy ball of electricity all the way for me.

My mind is elastic, not mired in the old ways, in tired paths that have long since lost their efficacy. I am a disrupter, because I take nothing as a given and never assume that the old way is the best way. I think that’s so important in life. It’s not about your age; it’s about how open you are to new ideas and new ways of thinking or doing things. “Forward” means untried and untested. It means embracing the unknown. The minute your mind stops growing, evolving, accepting new concepts, you are already dead. Forget about zombies—that, to me, is the true definition of “the walking dead.

What insistent questions must I ask and answer in order to uncover the essential truths for personal survival? Can I frame the crucial questions that self-revealing answers might stave off instant disintegration? Can I find a subject of intellectual investigation worthy of creating an enduring legacy? How do I eradicate from a secretive, brooding, and shut-in mind the insidious and incapacitating thoughts that turned me into an inert maumet or an empty-headed person? Must I accept the rheum of my timid meagerness? Alternatively, must I expunge all mucus remnants of my diseased former self? Can I shock myself awake from a zombie-like state of spiritual deadness? Can I create out of the phlegm of a frozen mind a new Adam that walks and talks for me? By destroying a former self, can I save myself and create a vessel of lifeworks that carries a stream of earnest thoughts into the minds of future readers?

Well...” She’d never had a survivor before. Ever. She wasn’t trained how to deal with those, she was only trained how to deal with things. “Later.” “Wait.” He was up and following her. “What’s your name?” Walking faster, she didn’t turn around. “None of your damn business.” “Can I call you ‘NYDB’ for short?

And you know what else I heard?’ Eugene rolled his eyes. Frazer’s ‘news’ was usually sourced from Natter, the micro-blogging service that had become increasingly popular as people’s other connections with the outside world had been gradually severed. Eugene steered clear of social media; in his opinion it was a cesspit of gossip and scare stories more infectious than the virus itself. ‘Go on, enlighten me,’ he said sceptically. Frazer’s dark skin paled as he glanced over his shoulder. Eugene wondered who he thought might overhear; the only other pair of ears in his apartment belonged to James. ‘I heard this latest strain is making zombies.’ Eugene snorted. ‘Zombies? You’ve been working on your video game for too long.’ ‘I’m not shitting you. Proper Walking Dead-style, groaning, rotting dead people, shambling around out there. I saw footage. I can send it to you.

I've got a better idea," said Spidroth. She walked up to the entrance to the corridor, then quickly slammed her foot down on one of the pressure plates, before moving it out of the way again. As soon as the pressure plate was pressed, the dispensers along the walls of the corridor began blasting out arrows: hundreds and hundreds of arrows all down the length of the corridor. The husks began BURRing in pain and panic as they were shot full of arrows. It was a husk massacre, with hundreds of the gray-brown zombies dying every second. Before long, all the husks had been slain, leaving piles of rotten flesh all over the floor. "Wow, Spidroth," said Carl, in awe, "that was… That was pretty ruthless." "Yes, well, I'm a pretty ruthless person," said Spidroth. "You'd do well to remember that, creeper." And for once, Carl didn't dare to make a sarcastic comment.

As they walked through the jungle, Carl told Dave about the evil ninja attack on the hidden village. “I saw one of those same purple-eyed ninjas,” said Dave. “It ambushed me as I was heading back to Hay Bale. It asked me about my ‘clan’.” “They must be another group of ninjas,” said Carl. “Maybe they’re worried that the Ninja Squad are taking over their patch.” “Do you think they have anything to do with the zombies?” Dave asked.

in circles, but then one day the wind blew me off course, and I walked and walked and walked and….” “I get the idea,” I said. “Yeah, so anyway, when I finished walking, I found myself in front of a door. Then, the door opened and I thought maybe some zombie was going to come out and eat me, but it was a wandering trader. He grabbed me and said that since I had discovered their headquarters, I could either join the Guild or die.