It’s the George Romero scenario – all off a sudden there are zombies everywhere. I rack my twelve gauge and head over to Virginia’s house, blowing away the creatures I can’t avoid.
On the way it occurs to me that this is simply an especially literal example of what I’ve spent so much time and effort doing – trying to prevent her from becoming one of the living dead herd.
When I get there she’s just sitting and watching the madness out of her window, strangely blase about the whole thing. A group of her transformed jock friends make a concerted lurch for the house, but they’re fairly easy to beat back.
I turn to tell her that we’d better come up with another plan because I’m almost out of shells only to see the back door open as she walks away – now that they’ve taken over she wants to fit in and be a brain eating ghoul like everybody else.