I know what you're thinking. In the apocalypse, how did this guy survive? I mean really, how the hell did I do it? And I know that's what you're thinking because I've been asked it only half a million times.
I'll start with a question. What was your zombie survival plan, pre z-day? You've thought about it right? Zombie movies can be pretty scary and it kind of forces you to be pragmatic and shit. You have to get ahead of the curve or you'll just be another guy running on the sidewalk as the horde catches up. And not even the guy the protagonist watches die. You're wide shot of the city material, at best.
It's pretty funny though, in retrospect. I honestly think people would have been more panicked if there was a big explosion or something. But the second people saw zombies they went into their prearranged survival routines. It just didn't feel real, zombies were as much of a daydream as their plans. And by God were some of these guys dreaming. The one thing people didn't really count on was everybody's plan being some variation on petty theft and flying down highways. You know, those same highways that get in stand still traffic at least twice a day already.
My survival plan was a little more sophisticated. I lived on the tenth floor of my building and had enough water to last almost a full week. I would simply barricade my door, and if things didn't get better by the end of the week I was going to test if I could play all of "flight of the bumblebee" before I kissed the pavement.
I know, it was a shitty plan. But really, if you think about it, your idea of what a good plan should be is infected with survivorship bias! You hear all these ridiculous plans and they all sound really good, but that's just because those were the plans that were at minimum good enough to survive the end of the world.
And listen, my plan had its strengths. I didn't have to do anything. I could just sit back, relax, and doomscroll people dying. I'm not the type of guy who's supposed to survive some real shit. There's no point. I'm just not that guy.
So how did I survive? Well, it's kind of embarrassing, really. It started on a Tuesday. I was standing in line at a fast food place. And not one of the good ones. Pure biowaste swimming in synthetic oil.
I was in a sorry state. I was out of food, and this was the only place still open. Still, when I saw the guy in front of me in line I almost left. You know the type. Natural hair color, a vintage smart watch, and a hero complex tucked under his pastel sweater. He was the type to start some shit for no reason.
When I went to the pick up line he stole a glance at my receipt. I had gotten a Legendary Tier Entomophagist Burger with added testosterone booster and nicotine. Well he must have seen it because he stared at me and said, "you really think you can play God with your body?"
And this, kids, is why most people don't leave the house without headphones in. I said, "I don't know." and then I flexed my arm that wasn't holding the bag.
I walked out of there as quickly as possible, but it seemed like that freak had no interest in arguing with me. I muttered, "what a dick." Do people like that think I don't know the garbage I'm putting into my body? Do they think I think I'm huffing rainbows?
I was walking down the sidewalk. And it was probably about 2:15 by then. I saw two homeless people making out. I almost said, "get a room" but you know, it was in bad taste.
I was halfway to my building when the clock struck 2:17. Unlike pretty much everyone else in the country, I didn't know anything was up. My phone was dead. And so as I was walking down the empty street, the world started moving without me. Millions of people came forth like clockwork. Crowds of undead swept through the city. The gas station across the street from my apartment blew up and took out all the windows. The greatest feats of human bravery and heroism unfolded, in unison, all around me. And then they were snuffed out and forgotten.
I had stopped walking when I saw people stumbling out of buildings in their pajamas all around me. I was frozen in place, with genuinely no idea what was going on or what I was supposed to do. And then I heard someone say "zombies" and entered the dream.
Or I would have, if I had ever planned to be outside of my room when the apocalypse started. I was a single gear spinning on its own. Stuck in a pressing crowd of people as the carnage entered from both sides of the street.
I just stayed completely still and watched. I watched a man charge forwards to fight, holding a pen knife like a sword. He got shoulder checked by a screaming woman who was looking behind her. Every sort of motor vehicle possible was rear ending each other over and over, trying to push their way out.
I saw a woman strike a zombie with a purse, and then it was over. The tide crashed down, and slid right past me. I was too scared to move. I figured the zombies were too busy chomping on the crowd, and would get to me later. I really, really tried to move. I honestly gave running all I had. But, the truth is, I suck. I was a deer and all round was thousands of pairs of headlights. Distant explosions rumbled the ground, the smell of smoke and blood, and the screams of the dead and dying became overwhelming.
And I'm fully serious when I say I was standing in the same spot, still holding a fast food bag, when the sun rose. The streetlights and the building's lights had gone out at some point. The darkness only made me more afraid. And so when I saw the sun that was tinted deep crimson by the smoke, I fell shaking to my knees. But even after falling I was not attacked. The zombies completely ignored me. Like I wasn't even there. And that's how I survived the first night. Like I said, it's pretty embarrassing.