After surviving the high tide-near wash out of a drive home, we decided to relax on the deck with some drinks. I managed to empty a bottle of our Apple Pie “hooch” and even created a deadly concoction… well, to my arteries. I mixed the shine with some French Vanilla coffee creamer, effectively making Apple Pie a la Mode. It was very tasty.
As the darkness fell across the beach and the full moon began to rise we saw the waters subside, uncovering the beach road, which allowed traffic to flow once again. Though, they usually caution against travelling on the beach at night. The sunken forest of petrified stumps that dot the landscape could wreak havoc on the axles of your truck, I’m told.
Drink after drink we consumed to calm the nerves of our ordeal with just getting home for the night led to conversation about the latest events we had heard on the news. In Miami, there was a “zombie” incident, in which a man, high on bath salts, disrobed and proceeded to chew the face of another man. What? Yes, this has become a big story, apparently. In our seclusion up among the wild horses and men who live in houses with baby doll heads on posts… still trying to get that picture… we were somewhat shaded from current events, strange or otherwise. Armed with an Internet connection I had found that another incident had occurred. Once again, a man, high on bath salts pretended to act like a zombie after being arrested.
So, we talked into the night about the ramifications of a possible zombie apocalypse. I thought back to reading The Zombie Survival Guide and thought that, in the event, we might be in pretty decent shape up here. Zombies aren’t the best of walkers, so the sand would give us a chance at escape. Not to mention, the isolation of being in this area wouldn’t attract their attention as much as being in the hustle and bustle of the lower, commercial areas. We have Internet and satellite television, so if the word came, we could make a trip down to the stores to get what supplies we needed to make a long term stand. And, we had a pool, which makes for waiting out the apocalypse a little more enjoyable.
Although, I could imagine the following scenario:
The more we drank, the funnier the conversation became. Soon, we noticed something down at the water line. It looked like a person but they were just wandering back and forth along the water. They didn’t seem to sure footed as the shuffled up the beach a few feet, then back down a few more feet. In our drunken state, we started to get a little loud and bolder with our comments. Cracking jokes at the expense of a silhouette in the distance.
“Maybe he’s drunk.”
“Maybe he’s lost.”
“Maybe he’s a zombie!”
Soon, we started rolling with the idea and eventually, one of our more adventurous, and inebriated of the group decided to walk down to see which this person was. We watched as he walked down the walkway and onto the beach, disappearing from sight. A few seconds later we caught sight of him in the moonlight walking along the dunes to a set of benches right by the ramp up from the beach. We laughed as he just took it upon himself to sit on the bench and blend into the scenery. Then… it happened.
The shape turned and moved its way up to the bench. Then it disappeared. Then nothing. No sound could be heard except for the surf. The dunes blocked our view of the scene. Minutes went by with no word, no movement, no sounds.
What if it IS a zombie? What if our guy is a midnight snack? Our missing member of the group, now gone from view for more than five minutes elicited a few four letter words from his drunk wife, my sister-in-law. She made it a plan to go after him and kick his ass for being gone so long. I looked at my wife and said, “Should I go?” She nodded and I went with her.
As we walked along the deck and down to the beach, my mind raced with the possibilities. “I have no weapons. If this is a zombie, what am I going to do? What if our guy is now one, too?” As we trudged up the beach to the benches, my sister-in-law began yelling for her husband. He then let out a scream. For a brief moment, I panicked. Then, his flashlight began bouncing around playfully and we knew all was well.
“Hey, this here is Luke. He’s legally blind. He’s just waiting for his sister and his girlfriend to arrive.”
How’s he going to know it’s them? Anyway, turns out, he was standing down at the water, just playing his guitar and wandering around, while waiting for his group to arrive. They were from New York. They were staying a few houses back. They weren’t the ones who called the cops on us. They weren’t zombies. We sat and chatted for a few minutes and I contemplated running up to the house screaming of zombies but I was too tired and had too much to drink to navigate the steps while running. I finally heard my wife calling from back at the house and gave them the all clear with the flashlight.
Eventually, all was well and all of our group was back in the house ready for some shut eye after a wonderful, wild, wet evening. Hopefully, Legally Blind Luke managed to see his sister’s truck and make it back to his house before the zombies made their way up the beach.