Late Nights and Real Issues

     At around two o'clock in the morning, any group of men will take the time to ask the important questions in life. The things that every man thinks about, but cannot speak on in the presence of women-folk. The answers to these questions mark a man for what he is, and what he will become. It is not a time for masks of shame, or hiding who you truly are. It is a time of honesty, and saying what is really in your heart. At around two o'clock in the morning in my room with the quartet, these hard questions are asked and answered with the thoughtfulness and poise that they deserve.

     “Machete, bitches!” Spencer answered without needing to think about it. “They're bound to get close sooner or later. You want something that won't need any ammunition, that's light and maneuverable, and won't get caught in bone or something. Just plain-old slash and go.”

     “Makes sense,” Ben agreed, “Although I always thought a shotgun would probably be useful in a zombie situation.”

     “Bad idea,” I replied, “With a shotgun, you're going to be reloading way too often, and in the time it takes to actually do that, they'll be all-up-on you. Plus, ammunition in general is always assumed to be in limited supply, so you'll actually have to scrounge around for it. I'm with Spencer on this one. Machete is the way to go.”

     “Cory, what's your first choice for a Zombie Apocalypse weapon?” Spencer asked. Cory just looked up from the finger nails he was biting.

     “My fists.”

     We all looked at him, with a million reasons going through our heads as to why that was a bad idea, but then we realized that, as scrawny as Cory is, he would probably be the one to actually thrive in a zombie environment unarmed. So we all nodded in agreement.

     “Here's a question,” I began, “What would your strategy be if you were the zombie?”

     “What?” Spencer asked, as if this was blasphemy to everything he believed in.

     “It's a valid question,” I reassured, “Let's be realistic. You three would probably survive alright. Spencer would always have a strategy, Ben would have his apathy to carry him through moral situations, and Cory would probably make it so the zombies avoid him entirely. Me? I would be zombified in five seconds flat. Hell, I would more-likely-than-not be the cause of the damn outbreak. So, I need to think in another point of view, that more fits the likelihood of the potential events.”

     “So, you're saying that when you think of the Zombie Apocalypse, you plan to actually become a zombie?” Ben asked, perplexed by the very notion.

     “Is that so hard to wrap your mind around? Think about it. Any team that I group up with to fight zombies, I would only slow down, either from my lack of athleticism or my lack of survival skills in general. What am I going to do? Write anti-zombie propaganda? Write books that offend their ideals? I don't know how to run a printing press!”

     “I feel like the printing press isn't the main factor as to why those are bad ideas...” Cory pointed out.

     “No,” I continued, “My place is with the hordes of the hungry undead, where all I have to do is walk around aimlessly, and if the opportunity arises, chase after some uninfected for a while. It's basically what I do now, only with walking!”

     “So... you wouldn't even try to fight for your life?” Spencer asked, finally starting to get it.

     “Are you kidding me? The entire point of the zombie scenario is to see what man is capable of to prolong humanity itself. That could include killing recently infected loved ones, or searching endlessly for a cure.” I took this time to start looking heroic, although even now I'm not sure what that really entails. “My way is sacrifice. I have come to admit that I am probably less of a threat to the continuation of the species if I'm the abomination that's trying to destroy it. So, my plan to fight the zombies, is to become one of them, therefore weakening the threat from the inside.”

     Cory, Ben and Spencer all took a couple seconds to think about it. Spencer was the first to say what everyone else was thinking. “What if you actually end up killing someone? How would that help humanity?”

     I raised an eyebrow as if to say “Seriously?” and explained. “Anyone who is actually overtaken by me as a zombie probably deserves nothing less. Another way I can improve your odds is by weeding out the weak, and therefore making the zombie forces that much weaker in the process, as the people I take over become zombies as well.”

     “But you won't have any control over your decisions!” Cory exclaimed. “You only have instinct! How do you stick to your plan? You'll have no memory of there being a plan to begin with!”

     “I imagine I won't,” I explained, “But you said it yourself. I'm only going to have instinct. And my instinct has always been to avoid challenge. So as Zombie-Josiah, I won't start running up to the guy with a mini gun fashioned into the bed of his pickup truck, I'll be going after people like me! Based on my instincts alone!”

     “I think you've thought way too much into this.” Ben finally said.

     “Probably. But my plan might just be the plan that saves the human race. A world after a zombie outbreak is no world for me. I decide to leave my legacy behind, to weaken the zombies from the inside out, and to make it that much easier for the likes of you to live on and continue as a proud species that can overcome anything.”

     For a few moments there was nothing but silence. Then, Spencer stood up, lifted me off my chair, and embraced me as a man would embrace a hero. When he finally loosened his grip, he put his hands on my shoulders and said, “Thank you, Josiah. Thank you for your sacrifice.” He took a moment to wipe away a tear. “But you realize that if you come near me as a zombie, I will do everything in my power to blow your freaking head off, right?”

     “Oh, undoubtedly.”