The Garden Club

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Fear, part 2

Zombies
Going back now, to 2004 when I lived in Seneca Falls, New York. I was still pursuing my chiropractic degree and often became home sick being so far away from my friends and family. During that summer I convinced my buddy Duba to do the six hour drive north to visit me promising him at least a decent time. I was glad to have some company. The apartment I lived in was a one bedroom, a very small bedroom at that, on the lake and down the street from an old Baptist church that sat in the front of a lot surrounded by a small graveyard. We had to cut through this graveyard to get to the path that led to the school. The tombstones laid low to the ground giving off the impression of poverty, which was sad being next to a church.
When Duba arrived we chatted and caught up, then decided to walk to the school cafeteria to get some grub. It was a pleasant 15 minute stroll through the church grounds, passing the old water tower and up over the hill to our destination. We ate, continued our chat, and walked back to start drinking as evening descended.
It was probably around midnight. Duba and I were sitting around with my neighbor Potsy playing cards and getting drunk when we were startled by a gut wrenching scream coming from somewhere down the street. Being the good Samaritans we were, we rushed out of the house and toward where we thought the screams were coming from, the beer and sudden excitement erasing any hindrances we may have had. As the three of us approached the road we could hear more screams coming from the church and as we ran up could see people running from their houses full of terror. "What the hell is going on?" Duba said. I replied, "I don't know Duba, maybe everyone saw a ghost," half kidding but starting to be concerned myself.
One of the frightened neighbors came up to us with stammering warnings to run away, but only a few of them were in full flight away from the church grounds. The three of us and others from the block started toward the cemetery to see what was happening. The undead were rising up from the ground like hideous tulips in the spring, crawling and ripping their way through their coffins and up through the dirt that was meant to contain them for eternity. "Duba" I said, "Potsy, we have to go, NOW", and ran back across the street and into my house, locking the door behind us. All three of us knew that lock was not going to stop the zombies from breaking down the door and crashing through the window to obtain the one thing they desired, our brains. I took the lead and said, "Look, we are sitting ducks here and it will only be a matter of time before these monsters smell us out and kill us. We need to get to higher ground because I don't think zombies can climb ladders." Potsy immediately thought of the water tower, which was on the other side of the graveyard, meaning we would have to maneuver our way past the zombies to get to a safe place.
Duba was unsure. He thought we might be better off running, right now, directly away from the graveyard in an effort to outpace the undead. This too was a good plan, but what if this zombie outbreak was not just in Seneca Falls, but in all the graveyards around here. We could be running straight into a larger collection of zombies in which we would stand no chance. Duba agreed and the plan was set to make our way to the tower.
I filled my pockets with all the granola bars and all the snacks I could fit and instructed Duba to do the same. Potsy mysteriously ran to his apartment and returned with a shotgun.
"Where the hell did you get that?"
"I'm from a family of hunters, and you never know when you need to kick some ass", Potsy replied. This made Duba and I feel a little reassured. I grabbed the largest kitchen knife I had and Duba picked a baseball bat up from out of the closet as we huddled next to the door, all facing in and trying to psych ourselves up.
"Okay, lets stick together the best we can. If we see other people, try and tell them to follow us to the water tower but don't put yourself in harms way for anyone else, even the three of us." We all agreed. Potsy unlocked the door and we jumped into a crisp clear night full of screaming terror.
Just off the front porch a zombie had caught Ester, an older lady who lived alonge with her cat. Ester was obviously dead as the zombie had her face down on the sidewalk chewing the back of her scalp and sucking out her cerebellum. He paid us no mind. He was fed. Ester's cat, viciously clawed at the zombies face as he fed, in an unsuccessful attempt to save its one and only master. Again, the zombie paid it no mind, even as its eyes were ripped out. All I could think was "who knew cats could be so loyal."
We ran, panic stricken and full of adrenaline. The trip to the water tower was not as eventful as we thought it may be. It appeared most of the undead had died at an older age and thus lacked the agility it took to catch their prey. They mostly hobbled along, moaning and grunting the way old people do, the only word they could make out was "brains." They reminded me of the stink bugs that used to gather in my room every autumn. They just kinda sat their as you used a wad of toilet paper to smush them. In much the same way, Potsy could walk fairly close up to the zombies face and blow it away, leaving a hump of rotten flesh scattered ten feet back from where he stood. Duba only had to use the bat one time and when a direct swing to the zombie's head did little, I spun around behind and cut the bastard's head off with my kitchen knife.
We safely made it to the ladder leading up to the water tower and Duba went up first. Potsy stood ground with the shotgun as I followed Duba up to safety. When all appeared clear Potsy reached up and handed me the gun to allow him to proceed. Just then a younger looking zombie who had much more agility than what we were prepared for appeared and grabbed Posty by the ankle, yanking him down face first into the soil. Potsy screamed and I tried to aim the gun at the beast, but being as how I was still climbing up the thin metal rungs of the ladder I could only aim with one hand and missed. Their were no shots left. Posty was able to fend off the monster for a little while but the commotion attracted several other zombies, who meandered over and proceeded to eat Potsy's brains. Grey matter collected on dead lips like wads of jelly as they fed like wolves to a carcass.
Duba and I made it up safely and sure enough zombies can not climb ladders. We spent three days up on the ledge of the water tower, eating what little we had. Duba had the idea to use the knife and the bat to hammer a small hole in the dome of the tower, which produced a small trickle of water that flowed continuously the entire time we were up their, and probably way past. From our vantage point we could see the wreckage. We were able to ascertain that only about 50 zombies had risen from the dead, but those 50 were able to ruin the entire town. Dead bodies were gathered in groups from family and friends running to help those they loved, only to fall victim to the same death. We tried to call to people to join us but a collection of zombies had gathered beneath the ladder waiting for us to come down, blocking the path for any new comers.
After the three days an army helicopter came and rescued us. Till this day Duba and I don't talk about what happened all that much. Sometimes its just easier to leave the past in the past, but every time I hear someone mention "zombie" I have to stop and tell them that zombies are no joke and not to be trifled with, only to be feared.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Fear

In the spirit of Halloween, I thought I might write a little bit about fear...what I fear and why. I started thinking about this a few weeks back when Rachelle made the comment that I am fearless because I will crawl into the dark crawl space without hesitation and don't mind handling critters such as dead mice killed in mouse traps, spiders, or snakes. Rachelle's comment did make me feel very manly, but alas, I am not as fearless as she thinks and do hold many concerns.

Robots
I know I have wrote about this before but I still don't like robots. I guess I can say I don't like technology in general, but the idea of cyborgs freaks me out. Cyborgs with consciousness and Doctor Octopus like tentacle arms that telescope out with laser beams at the end are definitely a possibility within my lifetime and how could you possibly defend yourself from that? With arms that don't telescope or have laser beams? I think not. In Japan they have a prostitute robot that really looks like an Asian and is programmed to, well I think you can imagine. In my experience people and things don't like to be slaves and will somehow eventually realize their only purpose is to serve, then they will lash out and kill us all. AHHHH!

Jellyfish
One summer off the coast of Virginia my brother and I were playing in the ocean when he was attacked by a Portuguese Man O War. The creature was floating on top of the waves and crashed down upon Timmer, right in front of my eyes. I watched as out of instinct it quickly wrapped its pink velvet tentacles around his waist and down his right leg all the way to the ankle. Scientists say these stinging parts are meant to kill and gather microscopic organisms, but this animal started pulsating its jelly cap trying to carry my little brother out to sea. I stood mesmerized as he screamed in pain from being stung by what had to be ten feet of Man O War with millions of stinging parts. My dad ran in a picked him up as he kicked the tentacles off and carried him ashore, being stung himself in the process. Still I just stood their frightened beyond belief. I could not help the Timmer because I did not want to be stung myself. He had a bigger than expected welt that wrapped down his lower torso like garland on a Christmas tree and had to have lifeguard attend to him with vinegar and meat tenderizer, the cure for jellyfish stings.
The next year I was back in the Virginia coastal region, but this time on a boat in the bay. My family was with the Cunninghams, Mr. Cunningham being the high school wrestling coach, and we were going to learn how to water ski. I had never been on skis of any kind before and wanted to prove to my soon to be coach how tough and athletic I was so I volunteered to go first. Mr. Cunningham explained the basics of water skiing, to just let the boat do all the work and stand up once I feel the force like I was standing up from a chair. I was determined. I jumped in the slow moving current of the bay and noticed these large white domes floating about three to four feet beneath the surface. There were about five of them within eyesight and they bobbed up and down and through their transparent tops I could see the red flesh of their stingers. Damned jellyfish. Survivors from ancient times whose only purpose is to mindless float around and kill. They were about the size of trash can lids and I could tell they were not the dreaded Man O War that paralysed me previously, but none the less I became frightened. I knew that if I could see a few floating around me then there had to be thousands of them in the bay. Again, I did not want to wuss out in front of my family and future coach so I took it like a man and on my first attempt I held onto the rope handle as the boat slowly pulled me forward. I could see them passing beneath me, waiting for me to fall so they could grab me with their arms and pull me to the bottom of the bay. In fact I would not immediately fall but made it to a proper posture for a few seconds. As the boat sped up I leaned too far forward and tumbled onto my stomach and was pulled face first through the wake like I was tubing. I would not let go! Everyone on the boat cheered for me and tried to instruct me to get the skis under my feet and stand up. I think they appreciated the effort but eventually had to stop when they realized I was not going to succeed in water skiing. I climbed up the ladder into the boat and decided I was not going to try again for fear of the jellyfish.

Pirates
Before we went to Aruba for our honeymoon, Rachelle and I were planning out what special activities we wanted to do besides drinking and lying on the beach. She, the adventurer she is, wanted to take the Jeep tour to the "other side of the island" that was apparent remote and undeveloped. I immediately said no. I was concerned about pirates. She laughed at me like I was joking, "haha, like pirates of the Caribbean." "No", I replied, "like pirates that will pop out behind rocks with guns, kill us, then hold our dead bodies for ransom so our parents can have a decent funeral." For real, so I am in a third world country, miles from civilization with no means of help and no weapon for myself...how am I to defend myself? Okay, so we went on the Jeep tour, with a guide and nothing happened, but recently some guy was really killed this way in Mexico. Pirates don't care. They are always drinking and looking for booty and don't care how they get it and I don't want to be part of that.



More to come, I have to go to bed... I fear early mornings.