I boarded the flight as I would have any other; thoroughly annoyed by everyone in the entire universe and wishing I could replace all living humans with cute, cuddly animals. I take my seat in row 15 and place my purse (as instructed) beneath the seat in front of me. The plane is unlike any I'd seen before. The leather seats jutting up six feet into the air from the base of the floor, with large flat screen TV's built into their backs melted away the angst and replaced it with excitement. As I flipped through the channels, unaware that that the plane had since departed (how long have I been here?), I hear the Captain's welcome announcement pipe through my headphones; my childish exploration of 200+ cable channels momentarily interrupted.
"Uhhhhhhh good morning ladies and gentlemen. This is your Captain speaking uhhhhhh we've reached a cruise altitude of uhhhhhh 32,000 ft. We've removed the fasten your seat belt sign and uhhhhhhhhhhh you're free to move about the cabin. Uhhhhh please be sure to visit the bar for a snack and afternoon cocktail. We'll reach our destination in about uhhhhhhhhhhh 4 hours and 32 minutes. Thank you."
1) What is "cruise altitude?"
2) Bar? On a plane? YES, PLEASE!
I make my way through the rows and rows (and rows) (how the hell big is this plane, and how does it fly?) of seats towards the door aptly marked "Saloon." I push through the swinging double doors and pass the threshold onto......
The deck of a cruise ship???? Oh well, when in Rome.
I take a seat at the outdoor bar and order my usual vodka martini with a twist. The cool air blows across the deck, cooling my skin hot from the suns. The water (wait, water??) is gently lapping the side of the cruise/plane while a DJ drops hot beats in a booth above the bar. I've literally NEVER been on a more relaxing (and awesome) flight before in my life. I take in my surroundings, strike up a witty convo with the attractive man who tends the bar, and take small sips from my frosty martini glass.
Suddenly, there seems to be a commotion to my left. People scurrying around, confused voices yelling inaudible things at one another, and finally the shrill cry of woman in some severe amount of pain. I jump to my feet and turn in the direction of the woman's cries and watch, baffled, as she hurries past me in the direction of the cabin, screaming hysterically.
"Ugh," I think. "Way to ruin my perfectly relaxing flight with your ridiculous drama." I sit back down to enjoy my beverage when I notice a girl eyeing me from the other end of the bar. I look in her direction and see that her mouth is bleeding and her face is sort of discolored...almost rotting. Gross.
Out of NO WHERE, the creepy girl leaps up onto the bar and charges me, mouth hanging wide open, tongue and rotting teeth exposed, growling at me. I leap out of my seat at the bar and sprint for the Saloon door. Once inside the cabin, chaos ensues. Luggage is tossed carelessly about the cabin, seats are ripped apart, and blood spatter paints the cabin walls.
It's silent now. I am a mere observer of the chaos, locked inside myself by fear. The zombies (wtf?) are feasting on my fellow passengers. Tearing at limbs and biting into meat so fresh it's momentarily still alive. The fear is SO real, my heart beats faster, my palms sweat, and I can't even move my eyelids to block out the terror.
The cruise/plane lands/parks/goes ashore...I'm not really sure. Everyone inside, living or dead, clamors for a way out, tearing at the walls, the doors, each other. I find a window and begin to claw at it like a caged animal. Is the plane getting smaller?? I'm clawing and banging and screaming for the window to open...and I guess it does...because suddenly I'm outside on dry land.
Surveying the landscape of my new found freedom, I can see that the terror is not secluded to air/sea travel, but has erupted on the ground as well. A pack of zombies descends on me and I, once again, take flight (on foot this time). After what seems like hours of running, I come upon a house. It's the only house within MILES and I don't immediately see or feel the threat of zombies. I knock on the door, although I'll admit it wasn't loud enough for anyone to hear. I don't really want anyone to hear, but I want to prove to myself that the rules of common decency still exist. I try the knob when no one appears to open the door.
Unlocked....
Is this? I think it is! This is my grandma's house! SWEET. Feeling at ease I walk about the house thumping loudly and calling for my grandmother. I find her asleep in her bed, rolled over on her side. Thank God.
"Grandma! Wake up! I'm here!" I say in a tone which is both a whisper and a yell at the same time. She rolls over and looks at me and smiles. She reaches out a hand to caress my face. Why though? My grandma was NOT the face caressing kind. Was...was?...WAS! My grandma passed years ago! Still this woman (who I now realize looks nothing like my grandma) seems to know me. I say, "I'm so glad the zombies haven't gotten to you." She looks at me, perplexed, and says, "zombies?" Just then, her face takes on characteristics much like the girl at the bar. Rotting skin, bloody mouth, hungry growl. Her outreached hand looking for a cheek to tenderly caress looks now more like a desperate hungry hand looking for a good grip on its prey.
Again I flee.
I'm running as fast as I can, yet not getting anywhere really, through desert landscape reminiscent of my childhood home in Tucson. The suns look bigger and hotter than ever and I'm sure that if the zombies don't get me, the heat and thirst will.
That's when I stumble upon a make-shift community of living humans. There's music and sounds of laughter and the hum of a thousand mouths all chattering away at once. I scale the gate and wander inside where a bouncer asks to see my stamp (pfft. Don't they always? Their jobs are so important.) "I don't have one," I say. The large mass of muscles seems to consider this for a while and I think about how much I wish I could take back my earlier hatred for my fellow man. Finally he decides I'm not a zombie (I guess) because he lets me stay. My ears, once again, find the sweet sounds of music and humming voices...and my feet follow.
A BAR! Oh man, I could really use a drink right now. I sit at an outdoor bench, order a beer, and begin making friends with my fellow refugees. They tell me all about their stories of zombies suddenly rising up out of no where and how they escaped. They tell me about their little community and how it was started. They tell me there is a neighboring community with whom they've set up trade. Things are looking up.
Until...
I hear commotion again over by the fence to my right. It looks like an argument between communities. Some people are saying we should knock down our fence and merge as one. Our people are arguing that if the fence were to come down we'd all perish at the hands (and teeth) of the zombies.
Then it happens.
The fence is knocked down. The crash is so loud I feel as though my eardrums scream in pain. The hum of a thousand voices becomes two thousand, maybe three! There are screams and more crashing and even the sound of ripping. I can hear flesh ripping! The zombies are sprinting towards us (sprinting??) looking more decayed and hungry than ever. They flood the camp and before I can even stand up, they're on me. Biting, ripping, chewing......
fin.
- Teresa Taylor
No comments:
Post a Comment