the most surreal thing

The zom­bie apoc­a­lypse was more like an odd af­flic­tion.

There were many large pock­ets of civ­i­liza­tion and I re­call my re­fusal to stay with a sin­gle group for any pe­ri­od of time.

At one point I had a per­son with me and we were try­ing to get to a point, in­stead of a drop-of­f/e­vac­u­a­tion pick-up af­ter a re­cent in­fec­tion start­ed to take hold where gen­er­al skin con­tact with the in­fect­ed was enough to turn. Peo­ple were lit­er­al­ly liv­ing zom­bies like a boil, plague sort of in­fec­tion.

Every­one knew there was a mas­sive herd com­ing, like a storm we couldn’t stop.

So I de­cid­ed to not go to a drop off but the point. I felt that I could do more there. As we’re run­ning by track­ers, hunters, and sup­ply run­ners I warn them of my bad feel­ing about the clos­est drop off.

They call me in­sane for try­ing to get to the un­der­ground point. But I’m adamant. I need to. Get THERE.

As I’m run­ning with the per­son, a plane is fly­ing back­wards in the sky, get­ting larg­er and larg­er. We dis­cov­er it is spin­ning out of con­trol and crash­es near the drop-off.

Build­ings are on fire. Peo­ple are scream­ing. It is mass con­fu­sion, and we need to skirt its edge.

The per­son with me in­sists we stop to help the peo­ple. And I look out over the chaos. I even see fa­mil­iar faces try­ing to help the wound­ed and the af­flict­ed and I say ‘no. They’re al­ready lost.’

And I desert them. I desert my friends, and even a fam­i­ly mem­ber. We nav­i­gate the treach­er­ous tun­nels. We move like some of the zom­bies to sneak by.

And we make it to the safe­ty point just in time.

But one gets in.

The point is filled with kids and teens and young peo­ple ter­ri­fied and dis­placed.

And a fuck­er gets in. And I take the only weapon any­one has out of the hands of a fright­ened woman and kill the one thing that could’ve turned hun­dreds of in­no­cent peo­ple trapped at a point be­cause they’d lost oth­er peo­ple and had nowhere else to go.

And I turn to the per­son and I throw down the fire ex­tin­guish­er and point at them yelling “THAT’S WHY WE LEFT. YOU CAN’T SAVE EVERY­ONE JES. SOME PEO­PLE ARE MEANT TO FALL BE­HIND. SOME PEO­PLE ARE MEANT TO DIE. THERE WAS NOTH­ING YOU COULD DO FOR THEM. YOU GO WHERE YOU CAN DO GOOD.

“go where you can do good.”

And I woke up.
 

—jes

Flom­mist Jes ex­ists for mo­ments of fiery in­spi­ra­tion. See her in­spi­ra­tional byprod­ucts at jdeprez.com. Copy­right © 2016 JES DE­PREZ. Pic­tured: Max Ernst’s La Grand Malade (cropped).

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