“We’ve been talking with Massachusetts officials, the state police, and the CDC, and so far they still aren’t sure just what’s to blame for the rash of violence reported in Boston and outlying suburbs.”
Wolf Blitzer puts on his most concerned voice. “Anderson, do they have people in custody?”
Anderson nods. “They do. But again, they aren’t commenting on whether any of these people are sick with some bizarre kind of flu virus—“
“There’s a lot of chatter on Facebook and Twitter that these violent people are behaving like zombies,” Wolf Blitzer says.
“I know, and if you can believe it, nobody’s laughing about that right now.”
“Nobody’s laughing because it’s fucking not funny,” Nips yells at the TV, his eyes wild. I give him a glance, wonder if he’s about to go completely loony in here. He makes me nervous.
I turn back to the television as Anderson Cooper continues. “The CDC states that it doesn’t appear to be a viral outbreak, and Governor Patrick has gone on record as saying that panic and hysteria are to blame.”
“What about some of the video footage we’ve seen on YouTube? Are they calling that footage a hoax?” Wolf asks.
“Again, Wolf, nobody is really sure about anything right now. The footage we’ve seen appears very realistic, disturbing, and would have been very difficult to have staged,” Anderson says. “But both the President and the Governor have urged people to remain calm and not to jump to conclusions.”
“Thanks Anderson,” Wolf says, turning to the camera. “Republican Senator Dornan has come out and said that he believes this is a well-timed terrorist attack. And that the video footage of apparent “zombies on the rampage” is part of a disinformation campaign geared toward creating panic, hysteria and a breakdown of government.
Dornan has even gone so far as to call for martial law, strict curfews, and that anyone posting false videos of zombie attacks on the Internet should be arrested…”
Fergi turns the TV down. She looks at all of us. “How can they be saying this is a hoax?”
Nobody answers at first.
Verne stands up. “We need to go to the police station right now. This is a public emergency. They’ll tell us what to do.”
“I think the police have better things to do with their time, like fight zombies,”
Fergi replies.
“I bet you anything that people are going to schools, just like they do in floods and hurricanes,” Verne says. “We should go where there are more people.”
I’m scratching my crotch again. My hand is actually down my pants, scratching the bare skin. It burns and stings.
“What does everyone else think?” Shep asks the group.
One of the other girls—her name is Casey—nods. “I agree with Verne. We can’t stay here forever.”
Teddy gives Casey a look like she just called his mother a dirty pig. It seems as though his hate for Verne makes him hate anyone who so much as agrees with the guy.
Shep pulls out his cell and checks it. “Has anyone been able to get service on their phone?”
Nobody has. A couple of calls were made right around the time Fergi got hung up on by the 911 operator. Martha spoke to her mother for a minute or two before the line went dead. And then that was it. Nobody’s had any service since. We can’t get on the Internet either, but for some reason the TV is still working. People have theorized that the government has purposely shut down the Internet after the YouTube clips of zombies got posted.
We can’t seem to come to a decision about what to do next, so everyone just sits and watches CNN and tries to ignore the zombies clawing at the windows.
Fergi walks over to where I’m sitting, leans down and whispers in my ear. “Can we talk in private?”
“Sure.” I get up and the two of us head to the spare bedroom.
Normally in this situation, I’d be measuring the distance between her mouth and my cock. But this is different. We’re in a life and death
Wolf Blitzer puts on his most concerned voice. “Anderson, do they have people in custody?”
Anderson nods. “They do. But again, they aren’t commenting on whether any of these people are sick with some bizarre kind of flu virus—“
“There’s a lot of chatter on Facebook and Twitter that these violent people are behaving like zombies,” Wolf Blitzer says.
“I know, and if you can believe it, nobody’s laughing about that right now.”
“Nobody’s laughing because it’s fucking not funny,” Nips yells at the TV, his eyes wild. I give him a glance, wonder if he’s about to go completely loony in here. He makes me nervous.
I turn back to the television as Anderson Cooper continues. “The CDC states that it doesn’t appear to be a viral outbreak, and Governor Patrick has gone on record as saying that panic and hysteria are to blame.”
“What about some of the video footage we’ve seen on YouTube? Are they calling that footage a hoax?” Wolf asks.
“Again, Wolf, nobody is really sure about anything right now. The footage we’ve seen appears very realistic, disturbing, and would have been very difficult to have staged,” Anderson says. “But both the President and the Governor have urged people to remain calm and not to jump to conclusions.”
“Thanks Anderson,” Wolf says, turning to the camera. “Republican Senator Dornan has come out and said that he believes this is a well-timed terrorist attack. And that the video footage of apparent “zombies on the rampage” is part of a disinformation campaign geared toward creating panic, hysteria and a breakdown of government.
Dornan has even gone so far as to call for martial law, strict curfews, and that anyone posting false videos of zombie attacks on the Internet should be arrested…”
Fergi turns the TV down. She looks at all of us. “How can they be saying this is a hoax?”
Nobody answers at first.
Verne stands up. “We need to go to the police station right now. This is a public emergency. They’ll tell us what to do.”
“I think the police have better things to do with their time, like fight zombies,”
Fergi replies.
“I bet you anything that people are going to schools, just like they do in floods and hurricanes,” Verne says. “We should go where there are more people.”
I’m scratching my crotch again. My hand is actually down my pants, scratching the bare skin. It burns and stings.
“What does everyone else think?” Shep asks the group.
One of the other girls—her name is Casey—nods. “I agree with Verne. We can’t stay here forever.”
Teddy gives Casey a look like she just called his mother a dirty pig. It seems as though his hate for Verne makes him hate anyone who so much as agrees with the guy.
Shep pulls out his cell and checks it. “Has anyone been able to get service on their phone?”
Nobody has. A couple of calls were made right around the time Fergi got hung up on by the 911 operator. Martha spoke to her mother for a minute or two before the line went dead. And then that was it. Nobody’s had any service since. We can’t get on the Internet either, but for some reason the TV is still working. People have theorized that the government has purposely shut down the Internet after the YouTube clips of zombies got posted.
We can’t seem to come to a decision about what to do next, so everyone just sits and watches CNN and tries to ignore the zombies clawing at the windows.
Fergi walks over to where I’m sitting, leans down and whispers in my ear. “Can we talk in private?”
“Sure.” I get up and the two of us head to the spare bedroom.
Normally in this situation, I’d be measuring the distance between her mouth and my cock. But this is different. We’re in a life and death
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