Hi, Anna-Liza here. I guess that title could be taken a couple of ways.
Well, yes, I’m a mother who has been feeling more or less zombielike a lot of the time recently. Booty-shakin’ at the Kan’nal concert aside, I’ve been hitting the sack early and still not feeling especially rested. The bronchitis really kicked my ass, and it’s taking quite a while to recover, unfortunately.
But wait! you say. What about Zombie Son? We haven’t heard about him for a while! And you’re right. My son will be a zombie at Elitch Gardens again this year. One of the oddest things about that gig is the number of cute girls who want to give him their phone numbers. (He’s not allowed to take them. Ahem.) And the risk of getting hit by people he scares too well.
And he is apparently begetting other zombies. Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. Geez. He’s my son, for goodness’ sake!
What I meant was, he’s getting otherwise perfectly normal people to play zombies, too. Well, I think they’re perfectly normal. Maybe not.
I’ve mentioned his biggest hobby is playing Airsoft. He and a couple of his friends have started running “Ops” (i.e. organized Airsoft games) together, usually using fairly elaborate storylines, props, and special effects. Last weekend, they ran a zombie op, a night game, at a private Airsoft field which has an old house and an old barn on it. The main group of players were “normal”, and there was a smaller group (initially) of zombies. The normals were defending the house and the zombies were trying to get at them. Pretty usual scenario, no?
So Zombie Son’s script, which only a very few players knew, had a point at which the “generator” would “fail” due to running out of gas, and someone would have to bravely venture out to get the “gas” and restart the “generator”. At the proper time, at which point the defenders were holding their own, suddenly the lights flickered and went out. Zombie Son said, “When the lights went out, there was a solid three seconds of absolute silence. Then the screaming started.”
These were all grown men, folks. Some of them in their 40s and over. Some with military experience. Screaming because the zombies were coming. Because they had gotten so completely into my son’s story.
You should have seen the grin on his face while he was telling me about it. He knows what will make me laugh.