You are downtown amidst tall corporate towers, condominiums, banks, and expensive hotels. A bullet-riddled van has been driven into a pillar, nearly collapsing it. A narrow path has been cleared between hundreds of jam-packed vehicles.
Somebody has spraypainted Survive for others. - CRE onto a wall.
- You tap on the window. The twitching jaw muscle begins to spasm, twisting its mouth crookedly. Something snaps, and the jaw stops quivering and hangs loosely, at an angle. The head tilts slightly toward you until its bulging black eyes hold your gaze. No depth, no intelligence, only a great vacancy above fried behavioural reflexiveness. Does that make sense? It is not even mindless.
The corpse has begun to shiver in regular bursts, all the while continuing to stare at you. You move to the side, but the eyes do not follow. Is it even aware? You tap on the window again and the eyes jerk back toward you, again holding a gaze. You move again; the eyes stay fixed. You tap the window again; the eyes flick back to yours. Fried behavioural reflexes. It can barely orient itself.
Sick, damaged, or left dormant too long. You recall successful walking corpses in worse condition. It is not clear what ails the zombie, and you won't find the answer here. You move on, thinking as you go.
Inventory:
- You carry only a smashed radio. It has been a long ride. Your blue jeans are shredded; the T-shirt, stretched 2 sizes larger, is more red than white, and your shoes are unaccounted for. You wear a crumpled paper party hat.
|
