I’m sorry; I just had to say that. It was actually just like every other day, you know, until the zombie thing happened.
Just like any other Friday, Ted and I were getting done with our third shift jobs. It was a boring assembly line job, doing the same thing over and over. The kind of job that can turn your brain to mush. Come to think of it, working there put us in a kind of zombie-like state.
Our usual weekend ritual involved going to the bar immediately after work. This week we were especially ready to go and have some fun because it had been extremely busy. We had worked ten hour days all week. Our supervisor even told us if we didn’t get all the orders done before the end of the day on Friday we would be working Saturday as well. Fortunately it didn’t come to that. So when the bell rang signaling the end of the shift on Friday: I cleaned up my area, put away my safety glasses, punched out and grabbed my jacket. On our way out we were met by the usual questions of “What are you two up to this weekend?” from fellow co-workers. Our reply was the usual “I don’t know, I guess we’ll see.”, most often accompanied with a shrug. On our way by the break room, we noticed that everyone seemed quite absorbed in a news story about some virus. It really didn’t seem interesting at the time to the two of us, so we walked on out.
We trekked the short distance to Ted’s little beater car. We talked about how things went in our separate departments. All in all, things were just fine. However, it was on the drive to our favorite hangout, The Watering Hole, that we noticed that something seemed…off.
“Is there some kind of protest or something going on?” I asked, peering at the groups of people in the road.
“I don’t know, but they should keep this kind of stuff on the sidewalks,” Ted said as he leaned out the window, “STOP WALKING DOWN THE ROAD!” he shouted at a group of slow-moving pedestrians. “Damn tourists.” He mumbled under his breath.
“Whatever, let’s just get to the Hole and have our self a drink. After the week at work we’ve had, I think we earned it buddy.” “Can’t argue with that logic,” He replied as he swerved around another group of people. We drove by groups of people for the next few moments on our way to the bar. The groups varied in size from just a couple people to some that had about fifteen or more. We turned the corner and found an open spot. The protesters had not seemed to make it this far yet. We got to the front door of the bar, only to find it locked. “What the hell?" I said, pulling on the door again to make sure it wasn't stuck. “Hey Mike! Open up!" Ted bellowed.
The blinds parted slightly, and we saw a pair of eyes dart back and forth. The lock clicked, and the door opened. Mike the bartender grabbed us and pulled us in by our shirts. "Mike, what on Earth is going on?” I wondered.
Mike quickly slammed the door behind us and clicked the deadlock home. “Wow. Nothing escapes you two, does it?”, his sarcasm was obvious. “What does that mean?” I asked.
He pointed to the muted television in the corner. There was the same news broadcast on from the breakroom but this time the headline under the news anchor read “Widespread Panic”. ”From what I understand some people got sick, I mean really sick. The sickness gave them a crazy high fever and made them go nuts and try to eat people. The more people that got bit, the more got sick, and so on and so on. “So let me get this straight.” I said, “We unwittingly drove through crowds of flesh eating crazies to come to a bar?” I turned and looked at Ted. Ted chuckles, “That sounds like us alright.” He finished his beer and then his eyes opened wide and he slammed his glass down. “Dude, do you know what this means?”
I shook my head, “What?”
“Ok, the he said there are people infected and eat the flesh of the living, and that those people get infected too, right? “Yeah, so?”
“Does that sound like anything else you know?”