Zombocalypse Now (2 page)
“I’ll do it,” Candice insists. “They seem to be drawn to the toothpaste—I’ll smear it on the walls as I go. Maybe that will keep the zombies off me long enough to yank some hard drives from our research department or something. If there’s any chance we can stop this madness, I have to try.”
“That tube won’t last long,” Ernie says. “What if we dilute it with something to make more paste? Then we can all take some and go together.”
“Except we don’t know that a diluted toothpaste will attract zombies at all,” Candice replies. “We can’t risk it. I think I have to do this alone.”
Candice’s plan might be the best idea, but there’s no way you’re going to send your only aunt into that building alone. If you volunteer for tube duty and go in yourself,
turn to page 230.
If you decide to dilute the toothpaste, hoping a little goes a long way, and go in with both your companions,
turn to page 118.
9
You don’t know what’s going on here, but you sure as crap didn’t sign up for fighting any zombies today. You slowly back away from the creature approaching you, and when you realize that it isn’t moving particularly fast, break into an all-out run.
You try dialing 9-1-1 on your cell phone, but of course you never get service in this part of town. Your best bet is probably to get back to your car and just drive to the police station (or at least up a hill or something until you get cell reception). As you round the corner, though, you stop in your tracks. Half a dozen zombies have piled out of the spaghetti place and are now milling about in front of your car. Zombie loiterers? One of them is even climbing on the hood and appears to be to licking the windshield.
What the..? Do Toyota Celicas taste like brains or something?
None of these zombies seem very focused—if you’re clever and quick enough, you may be able to get past them and into your car. On the other hand, you don’t want to find out what happens if you’re not quite as quick or clever as you think.
If you try to get to your car (blech—you just had it washed, too!),
turn to page 80.
You just ran from one zombie—if you can’t imagine what would make you want to take on six,
turn to page 37.
10
“Listen,” you say as the officer hauls you out of the chief’s office. “The law doesn’t have any provisions for situations like this. You can’t play a zombie apocalypse strictly by the book! The book is going to get us all killed!” A small crowd is forming around you. “You can sit in here with Clampy Pete and let this city be overrun by the living dead, or you can break the freaking rules and go take your city back! Who’s with me?”
Surprisingly, almost all of them are. It seems they’ve been shell-shocked by the day’s events and just needed someone to light a fire under them. “Somebody get a gun for my friend here,” the officer who brought you in yells. “Let’s go kick some zombie ass!”
An hour later, the two of you are pinned behind a burning car in the middle of what looks like a war zone. “The zombies are kicking our ass!” the officer says. Bullets fly everywhere, punctuated by the occasional grenade blast. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admits. His name is Vinny. You’ve gotten quite close.
“We’re not getting out of here alive, are we?” you say. Your ammo is running low, and the zombies keep coming in waves.
“Nope,” Vinny agrees. “What you’ve got to ask yourself now is, do you want to end up like one of them?” He gestures toward a zombie before pumping it full of lead. “Or do you want to save the last bullet for yourself?”
If you’re a “keep shooting until you run out of ammo and damn the consequences” type of zombie fighter,
turn to page 127.
If you save a round for yourself to make sure you don’t join the ranks of the living dead,
turn to page 235.
11
See, that was a test to see if you’re taking this whole choose-for-yourself thing seriously. There are like fifty zombies between you and the police station. Probably more, since they’ve been killing people and turning them into additional zombies while you’re standing there.
You really want to dive right into that? You’re sure?
If you suspect that when the book itself starts questioning your judgment it might be a good time to reconsider the zombie disguise plan,
turn to page 183.
If you would like to know which part of “flip out and get medieval on their undead asses” the book didn’t understand,
turn to page 155.
12
“We have to destroy it now while we have a chance!” you whisper to Ernie.
“That’s just what I was thinking!” he whispers back. The two of you stand there for a moment, staring at Princess. “How do we do that?” he asks.
You’re not far from an abandoned construction site, so you concoct an elaborate plan that involves cunning, subterfuge, quite a bit of wet cement, and crushing the dog under several plates of heavy steel for good measure. Princess just limps around and kind of looks at you funny the whole time. You start to have second thoughts about the whole plan. Is it possible that you’ve misjudged the dog after all?
You look at Princess. Princess looks at you. If only there was a way to know what’s going through that evil, canine head. Then, as you stare into the dog’s eyes, something in its gaze tells you that although you can’t read its thoughts, it knows exactly what
you’re
thinking.
“Ernie! Get the steel plates!” you scream. Alas, it’s too late. Princess leaps up and tears your throat out in one swift motion.
You knew you couldn’t trust that thing.
THE END
13
“Let’s keep moving,” you say. The market provides no shelter, anyway, and you’d rather look for supplies somewhere that isn’t crawling with the undead. Plus, Isabelle’s organic zombie cure thing seems iffier the more you think about it. You need to find someplace to hunker down for the night, and hopefully rustle up some grub first. You’re starting to worry that you’ll wind up going hungry when you stumble upon a grocery store, shining in the middle of the city like a glittering oasis.
It’s locked up tight, but a metal garbage can through the front window solves that problem. There’s enough food inside to feed your crew for weeks, or even months. Someone discovers a microwave oven in the employee break room and gets to work making Bagel Bites and Pizza Pockets.
You find shipping crates in the loading bay out back, and use one to board up the shattered window, making the store a serviceable shelter for the night. When morning comes, you instruct your crew to gather up as much food as they can carry. The group, though, has other ideas.
“We voted on it, and it was unanimous,” Isabelle says. “We want to make this our new home.” She smiles broadly. “If we leave, who’s going to eat all this ice cream?”
Maybe they’re right. If you decide to wait out the zombie apocalypse with them in this consumer paradise,
turn to page 139.
On the other hand, your gut tells you that the whole zombie situation isn’t going to just blow over, and even this much food will eventually run out. If you decide to leave the group and strike out on your own,
turn to page 47.
14
“You picked the wrong day to die,” you say in your best action hero monotone. “And then, uh, come back to life again. Sort of.” You’re going to have to work on your one-liners. The zombie keeps stumbling toward you, and you back up slowly, not at all wanting to touch it. You glance around for something heavy to hit it with, but nothing presents itself. Could you take off your shoes and throw them? That just seems dumb.
The zombie lunges at you, and suddenly you’re out of choices. You tackle it at the waist, trying to avoid its whole face area, where the biting and chewing happens. It falls backward with you on top, hitting its head against the pavement with a loud smack. You untangle yourself quickly, but fortunately the thing seems to have stopped moving. Well, that wasn’t so hard. You hurry to the zombie’s victim, still lying in the middle of the street. “Are you okay?” you ask.
“Nnnnnnnnggg.” Hold on. Was that an “ow my leg hurts” groan, or an “I hunger for the flesh of the living” groan?
“Brrraaaaiiinnns,” he continues, trying to stand up even though his leg seems to be chewed down to the bone. Crap. You hear another moan, and glance behind you to see that the first zombie is revived and back on its feet. Double crap. To make things worse, a mob of screaming pedestrians rounds the corner with several new zombies close behind. “They ate Mr. Friskums!” one of them cries. “Save us!”
If you attempt to rescue the crowd from the ever-growing legion of undead,
turn to page 21.
This is spiraling out of control. If you decide to run for help,
turn to page 30.
15
You rip the toothpaste out of its packaging and pop the top off, squirting a healthy glop right in a zombie’s face.
It falls away, clawing at itself and trying to slurp the paste into its mouth. Its two undead companions lose interest in you as well, mobbing the first zombie to get a piece of sweet toothpaste action. That worked surprisingly well! You squirt another glop at the zombies on the passenger side with similar results. They can’t get enough of this stuff!
During the fracas, however, the undead crowd around you has grown. You can’t even see your friends anymore. Zombies rush the car, and you squirt toothpaste at them until you’re out, throwing the empty tube as a last resort. Still they come. You look down and see a big smear of paste on your arm. You frantically wipe it on your pants, but realize that you’re only making things worse.
Clammy hands grab at you, and before you know it you feel teeth as well. Slowly, your consciousness drains away and is replaced by the hunger. The smell is overwhelming, and you join your zombie brethren in desperately trying to get a taste of the paste. You realize now that zombies don’t crave the stuff because it tastes like brains.
Zombies crave brains because they taste like this.
THE END
16
You know what? That waiter can take care of himself. You ditch your weirdly aggressive and possibly drunk date, handing a twenty-dollar bill to the greeter on the way out to cover the appetizers.
As you walk toward your car, you smell something all too familiar. At first you think your date followed you out of the restaurant, but you look around and see a middle-aged woman stumbling toward you, grunting and staring blankly just like your date did. What is this, an epidemic? You walk faster, and get inside your car just as the woman reaches you. You feel a bump, and glance in your mirror to see some guy climbing on your trunk. A third person, with a gaping head wound that makes gender difficult to determine, presses two bloody hands against your car window.
“Braaaaaaiins,” it moans.
The realization hits you like a freight train. Zombie invasion! This, in turn, makes you feel a little better about abandoning your date and a lot worse about not helping the waiter. You lock the doors, turn the key in the ignition, and step on the gas, feeling ill-equipped to deal with a situation like this. Your friend Ernie might know what to do—he’s always going on about the paranormal and secret government plots and so forth. On second thought, Ernie might not be the most stable person to turn to in a crisis.
If you decide to get Ernie’s advice on what is turning into a really weird day,
turn to page 40.
If you decide you’re better off driving toward some actual authority, like the police,
turn to page 86.
17
West it is. The streets are swimming with undead, but you know your neighborhood well enough to avoid getting trapped, and arrive home safely. On your way to the stairs, you’re startled by a figure lurking near the mailboxes. Your first instinct is to hit it with something heavy and run, but it turns out to be the girl who lives in the apartment underneath yours.
You’ve never introduced yourself, but you have chatted with her once or twice in passing, and she seems to be at least medium-friendly. And also super, crazy good-looking. She’s like French and Japanese or something.
You do the neighborly thing and warn her that zombies have overrun the city, but it looks like you might be a tad late. “Nnnnngh,” she replies. “Braaaains.” She makes a move toward you, and you hate to admit it, but the whole unkempt, hollow-eyed, lurching thing is working for her. The zombies you’ve seen so far have been utterly repulsive, but this one is definitely rocking the reanimated corpse look.
Your fleeing skills are becoming quite honed, and you start to do just that, but hesitate. This isn’t some stranger. You know this girl, kind of. It might be more humane (not to mention safer for the rest of the building) to put her out of her misery. Then again, is there any chance she can still be saved?
If you decide to bring the zombie girl with you in the hopes of finding a cure,
turn to page 229.
If that sounds like crazy talk and you just leave her there,
turn to page 125.
