Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Internal Dialog, Infernal Panic

Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.

You’ve got to be kidding me. All those times Tom told me all about Zombies, ‘just in case’, and all those times I laughed at what a geek he was and told him his Zombie obsession was weird. Good God. This is just too hard to process. We’re looking at a potential pandemic, here. I’m beyond terrified. How on Earth can I protect Finnegan, or myself, for that matter? He’s just so perfect and deserves a chance to become who he is. I am so out of my element, here. And I am so scared.

And it’s not like our government has a good track record in handling disasters.... is FEMA going to provide out post Zombie- apocalypse housing? Please. I know we have a strong military, and it’s inevitable that we’re going to go under martial law once they realize what is happening. I just hope they are smarter than they act. I don’t have much faith that their numbers or power will do much good. After all, it only takes one idiot in charge to render everything useless. God, I hope I’m wrong.

I talked to Tom briefly, and he told me to turn around. And go where? There are FUCKING ZOMBIES everywhere, and my gut says to go AWAY from them, so I am. Like I’m going to fight for my life without him. I will NOT separate my family in a time of crisis. We are a team and we will do this together. My sister called us ‘Team Curry’ when I was in labor with Finn, and it stuck. Team Curry will do this together. I don’t know if I have the inner calm to do this alone anyhow.... I just can’t believe this is happening.

Sarah just called. She’s in her closet and afraid to come out, and never did get her long coveted boob job. It’s just as well. No good to be post-op of any kind with Zombies on the loose. She should really go to her parents’ house. They’re such Superheroes. I know they’re going to have the best fortress around. I told her I couldn’t talk, had to drive—driving really fast to get home. She says Cecil isn’t home yet. God, I hope he’s safe.

I keep seeing people everywhere, but I can’t tell if they’re Zombies or not. It’s hard to tell when you’re driving 100mph. Either way, there is an awful lot of foot traffic for a weeknight on some barely lit roads. I need to get home, and fast, and I think I have enough gas—but just barely. The low fuel light is on and has been for a while. I wonder if Tom has the house fortified yet... and how long we have to get provisions. I wish I had a better vehicle in case we have to flee.

Oh my God, how am I going to fight Zombies with my son? He’s so innocent and young and helpless. He can’t even crawl away. Fuck. Focus on something else...

This just can’t be happening. Everything I learned in school is useless, all of my skills and education are worth nothing if I can’t survive some hand to hand combat. And can I?... I mean I took those self defense courses, and I even helped teach a few, but my attacker has gone from a mugger/rapist to an undead bag of pathogens... all they have to do is puncture the skin the tiniest bit and it’s all over. I wish I could get one of those shark-proof chain mail suits divers wear.... I don’t know if I can do this. I just don't see how...

Oh my God, I’m so scared. What about my family, and my friends. Who will survive? How long until the phones and internet go down? I should charge my cell phone while I drive... How long before mass hysteria breaks loose? The rioting will only bring more Zombies, and more chaos. But I guess it’s human nature to freak when the going gets tough. I just hope we’re far enough away from them to be safe when they happen.

At what point will I have to decide if it’s death by Zombie, or death by my own hand? At what point does it get bad enough to warrant humanely putting down my son. Oh God, I can’t even think about that. I just... oh God.... I just don’t know if I can do this. I need to get to Tom before I lose it. I’m on the verge of panic, here, and Finn is in the backseat screaming. My teeth are clenched so hard my jaw hurts. I think I may have broken a tooth. Tom will know what to do.

Just Keep Driving. I’m almost home.

Oh my God.

The van is stopping.

I’m out of gas.

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