The final work may change, but here is a piece from what I have of Zombie Gras so far:
I
was here in New Orleans when the infection began to spread. It was during Mardi Gras, which made things
rather confusing. Throngs of people,
costumed and inebriated, create a surreal environment to begin with. Combine that with a zombie outbreak, and you
have a recipe for utter madness.
This was before cities all became
colorless, barren landscapes that looked the same. New Orleans still had character; it was a
city filled with street performers, music, and revelry that consistently bordered
upon joyful debauchery. Visitors
typically left the city knowing that they had had a great time, but any
recollection beyond that tended to be hazy.
And this was amplified one hundred fold during Mardi Gras.
It was evening, and my girlfriend
and I were at the Endymion parade. The
crowds along the streets of mid-city were elaborately costumed and in good
spirits. There was a chill in the air,
but alcohol was keeping us all warm and contented.
Adrienne, my girlfriend, in her
hand-crafted green pixie costume, returned from retrieving another beer from
the ice chest and lay her hand on my elbow, pulling me down so that she could
speak into my ear. Music and the gleeful
screams of the crowd made hearing one another all but impossible. I couldn't make out what she was saying to
me, but I nodded and smiled, feeling comfortable and fuzzy from the
alcohol.
Another colorful and ornate float
was proceeding down the street, and I stepped up to the curb to wave my hands and
shout "Throw me something, Mister!" along with everyone else. I knew full well that I had absolutely no use
for beads, doubloons, or plastic cups, but I was swept up in the ritual
nonetheless.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw
some commotion occurring across the street.
It looked like it was probably a scuffle; a crowd of people had
encircled the pair, ineffectually throwing arms in to try to pull them apart. Perhaps a fight had broken out over beads, or
some man had demanded a glimpse of tits from another man's wife.
The float, with a blue gargoyle
mounted to its front, passed in front of me, obscuring my view of the other
side of the street. We all whooped and
hollered to its masked riders.
After it had passed, I took a swig
of beer and lazily returned my gaze to the other side of the street, expecting
to find the disturbance resolved.
But when I looked again, things had
become much worse. Several people
appeared to be covered in blood, and it looked as though a man at the center of
the disturbance was being repeatedly bitten by several of the people around
him. Moreover, each of his limbs was
being pulled by a different crazed looking individual; he looked as if he might
be literally torn apart at any moment.
Dumbfounded, I dropped my beer and
shook Adrienne's shoulder, trying to get her attention.
My eyes still locked on the
spectacle happening across the street, I noticed that additional violent conflicts were
beginning to crop up in pockets around the initial scuffle.
Maybe the alcohol played a part in
it, but a terrible, warm tingling sensation washed over my entire body as it dawned
on me that whatever this was wasn't an isolated incident. It was beginning to spread, and Adrienne and
I might be in danger.
My eyes still trained on the mayhem
unfolding across the street, I leaned down to Adrienne.
"We need to go." I said
into her ear.
"What? Why?" she asked, confused.
I nodded my head toward the
escalating turmoil and then took her hand, leading her through the crowd.
We began to make our way back to the
car. About a block from the parade
route, we saw a woman kneeling down on the sidewalk with a child.
"Are you okay?" Adrienne
called out as we approached.
The woman lifted her head and turned
to face us. There was blood all over her
face, and chunks of gore were caked on her chin and neck. Behind her, the child's body lay gutted. It was difficult to be sure in that split
second as the adrenaline began to pump through me, but I think the little
girl's ribs were visible. A gleam of
bone protruded from a bloody pool of entrails where the child's midsection should
have been.
That was the moment when I realized
there could no longer be any chance of misinterpretation. We were at a turning point, a horrible, life
defining moment -- and it was very clear that things were well and truly
fucked.
"Oh, shit." Adrienne said.
And then we were running. We ran to the car and got out of there as
fast as we could.
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