Chat
06-01-2016, 09:05 PM
1 June 2016
No intention set
I'm sitting in a coffee shop with a guy I don't know but am apparently seeing. He's drinking coffee, I'm drinking iced tea. The coffee shop is busy, filled with people, and noisy with all the talking, sounds of dishes and flatware clinking, and classic rock on the sound system. For those who are familiar with the restaurants, it reminds me a lot of an older Jim's. The man and I are visiting, talking and laughing. We seem to have an easy relationship, as if we've known each other and been friends a long time.
Suddenly there's a crash, dishes breaking. We look around. Several people at different tables have stood. One person, a man dressed in business casual, reaches out and grabs the woman sitting next to him. He hauls her to her feet, and proceeds to rip out her throat with his teeth. She screams, a high-pitched shocked and pained shriek that suddenly cuts to a gurgle. Other patrons begin screaming and making a mad dash to the exits. The other people who had suddenly stood began grabbing at people. Some manage to evade the grab, others don't, and the ones who don't meet the same end as the unfortunate woman...who begins jerking and twitching on the floor amongst all the blood and gore.
The man and I slowly and carefully leave our seats and begin inching, creeping towards the door to the kitchen. The main exits are crammed with frantic people trying to escape. They aren't paying attention as the blood-spattered people shamble towards them. Someone in the rear looks back and sees the zombies coming and begins yelling for people to hurry, they're coming, oh god, they're coming.
As my friend and I slip through the kitchen door, the zombies reach the press of people. The screaming really begins. Sounds of fighting. Furniture and glass breaking. My friend takes a mop handle and shoves it through the door handles, effectively keeping the door closed. We look around. The cooks are eyeing us and their expressions are odd. Empty yet hungry and I murmur that I think we haven't improved our situation any. No shit, says my friend. He grabs a butcher knife from a rack. I snag onto a broom, quickly break off the bristle part, and hold the handle in front of me like a cudgel. My friend tells me that if something happens, don't worry about him and to get myself to safety. That if it comes down to it, he'll do what he has to do to buy me time to get away. Screw that, I say, If it comes down to it, we both go down together. He doesn't look at me as he says, Too late for that. I glance at him and his expression is changing. He's beginning to change, to become one of the zombies. He gives me one last sad look and says, I'm sorry. No, I tell him as I impale him with the broken end of the broomstick, I'm sorry. He falls to the floor, looks up at me, and smiles. Mouths the words Thank you. Then he topples over and is still. I pick up the knife and hold it out in front of me. The kitchen staff is coming for me now, shambling towards me. I won't let them change me, won't let them hurt me. I'll take myself out first if I can't get out of here in one piece. I start backing up, backing up, not taking my eyes off the zombies coming at me. I stumble over a body, the waitress who had brought our coffee. Her eyes shoot open and she grabs for my ankle. I've got nowhere to go and I can't take all of them by myself. I've got to do this before they're on me. I take a deep breath, aim the knife at my gut...and I woke up.
I have no notes for this one beyond it was like I was part of a zombie movie, but it was real. No explanation, no warning, nothing. One second everything was fine and the next it wasn't.
No intention set
I'm sitting in a coffee shop with a guy I don't know but am apparently seeing. He's drinking coffee, I'm drinking iced tea. The coffee shop is busy, filled with people, and noisy with all the talking, sounds of dishes and flatware clinking, and classic rock on the sound system. For those who are familiar with the restaurants, it reminds me a lot of an older Jim's. The man and I are visiting, talking and laughing. We seem to have an easy relationship, as if we've known each other and been friends a long time.
Suddenly there's a crash, dishes breaking. We look around. Several people at different tables have stood. One person, a man dressed in business casual, reaches out and grabs the woman sitting next to him. He hauls her to her feet, and proceeds to rip out her throat with his teeth. She screams, a high-pitched shocked and pained shriek that suddenly cuts to a gurgle. Other patrons begin screaming and making a mad dash to the exits. The other people who had suddenly stood began grabbing at people. Some manage to evade the grab, others don't, and the ones who don't meet the same end as the unfortunate woman...who begins jerking and twitching on the floor amongst all the blood and gore.
The man and I slowly and carefully leave our seats and begin inching, creeping towards the door to the kitchen. The main exits are crammed with frantic people trying to escape. They aren't paying attention as the blood-spattered people shamble towards them. Someone in the rear looks back and sees the zombies coming and begins yelling for people to hurry, they're coming, oh god, they're coming.
As my friend and I slip through the kitchen door, the zombies reach the press of people. The screaming really begins. Sounds of fighting. Furniture and glass breaking. My friend takes a mop handle and shoves it through the door handles, effectively keeping the door closed. We look around. The cooks are eyeing us and their expressions are odd. Empty yet hungry and I murmur that I think we haven't improved our situation any. No shit, says my friend. He grabs a butcher knife from a rack. I snag onto a broom, quickly break off the bristle part, and hold the handle in front of me like a cudgel. My friend tells me that if something happens, don't worry about him and to get myself to safety. That if it comes down to it, he'll do what he has to do to buy me time to get away. Screw that, I say, If it comes down to it, we both go down together. He doesn't look at me as he says, Too late for that. I glance at him and his expression is changing. He's beginning to change, to become one of the zombies. He gives me one last sad look and says, I'm sorry. No, I tell him as I impale him with the broken end of the broomstick, I'm sorry. He falls to the floor, looks up at me, and smiles. Mouths the words Thank you. Then he topples over and is still. I pick up the knife and hold it out in front of me. The kitchen staff is coming for me now, shambling towards me. I won't let them change me, won't let them hurt me. I'll take myself out first if I can't get out of here in one piece. I start backing up, backing up, not taking my eyes off the zombies coming at me. I stumble over a body, the waitress who had brought our coffee. Her eyes shoot open and she grabs for my ankle. I've got nowhere to go and I can't take all of them by myself. I've got to do this before they're on me. I take a deep breath, aim the knife at my gut...and I woke up.
I have no notes for this one beyond it was like I was part of a zombie movie, but it was real. No explanation, no warning, nothing. One second everything was fine and the next it wasn't.