THEY ARE COMING

COCO ST. GEORGE

You knew it all along. Ever since your first neighbors showed the early symptoms of contagion, you’ve been waiting for this day. And it’s finally here. You go through the house, making sure all windows and doors are securely locked. You are so used to doing this, the task is completed in a few minutes. You also make a quick check of the pantry. How’s your food supply? Cans, bags, bottles… they seem enough for a few weeks more if you use them sparingly.

You pause to remember how you got most of this food. That was an epic battle! Apparently, the bodega down the street had been stocked shortly before the outbreak, because you found everything you could ask for. You grin. Oh, simpler times! All you needed to fend off your enemies back then was a baseball bat to crack open their skulls. They walked so slowly you didn’t even need to run from them. You could calmly walk to them, wielding your baseball bat, mentally calculating the height you’d need to swing it at to hit their skulls, and— wham! Yes, in the first few days and weeks you kept a tally, remember? How many? You can’t remember. You stopped counting at more than 300. What was the point? Everybody expected somehow, some scientist, some pharmaceutical company would come up with a cure, a vaccine of sorts, that would stop the ever-growing contagion and save the human race from extinction. And sure, they did produce a vaccine. In fact, some months after the first detected outbreak, several vaccines from different companies and countries were vying for the market. What was at stake was huge, of course: the very future of humankind. But also, substantial business, as the goal was to vaccinate the entire human population. But along with the solution came the people who compounded the problem. Citing obscure and unverifiable sources, they claimed the whole outbreak was a hoax schemed by Big Pharma in order to reap huge profits and, at the same time, to control the population through some mysterious and diminutive chip allegedly embedded in the vaccine. How that chip was supposed to work was something they never talked about, much less explained. But hundreds of thousands of people, millions even, refused to get vaccinated. They were, of course, the first to get infected. The first to spread the virus as they bit other unvaccinated people. The first to become living dead.

As was to be expected, the virus mutated, and the new strains proved immune to the first vaccines. New vaccines came about, and new strains appeared in a war of attrition whose outcome was clear from the beginning.

You hear a noise outside, on the street, and dare to take a peek through the shutters of a window on the ground floor. A herd. Yes, it was inevitable. The successive mutations of the virus have made them a tad smarter. Not smart-smart, just enough to walk faster— some even can run now —and to realize they are better off in big numbers. How good you have become at calculating their numbers! How many are there? You look at the width and length of the parade and somehow your brain comes up with a number: 120. They are fast walkers; it would be impossible to take down all of them. You’d need an automatic gun for that. And ammunition. Lots of ammo. No, it’s better to lay low and wait for the herd to walk past your house. You decide to go upstairs and try to take a nap.

Falling asleep with a herd marching in front of your doors proves to be harder than you thought. With your

eyes fixed on the ceiling, you try not to count for the umpteenth time the number of beams. There are eight. You’ve known that since the very first time you walked into this room. Eight beams, two windows, one door to the bathroom, and another to a closet. And two people; two people slowly walking toward you, trying to bite you. You swung your bat with precision and strength acquired through practice. A practice that is especially painful when that meant putting down members of your own family. You try to wipe out those memories and instead start counting the beams on the ceiling.

Did you fall asleep? Wake up! What’s that noise? Yes, that noise downstairs, like a door being banged with multiple fists. Is that your front door? Did the herd smell your presence in the bedroom? Don’t tell me you forgot to lock the door!

We all know there are no zombies in Real Life, but few of us would like to live in a world where not even the idea of a zombie apocalypse existed. And luckily for us, we can always count on Second Life to live out our dreams. Yes, zombie killing is a time-honored sport in Second Life. Who hasn’t visited a sim plagued by the walking dead only to enjoy watching how the life-threatening zombies explode every time you shoot them? Of course, it may be the other way around: it’s you who loses points and gets sent back to your base over and over.

There are several places where you can practice your marksmanship, hone your survival skills, and have a blast shooting zombies. Pay a visit to Grimly’s Bloodbath & Beyond Zombie Apocalypse Main Store, whose name doesn’t leave room to misunderstand: You’re looking for a bloodbath, and that’s what you get. You’ll land at the visitor’s center, where you must accept the experience to go further. You’ll be provided with free weapons if you only want to have a taste of what a zombie apocalypse is about. If you find that’s your thing, you’ll be able to buy all the weapons your fantasy may want and your purse may afford. of fantasy and adventure, be sure to check out Z Invasion, a medieval-themed sim where you’ll be assaulted by living skeletons, orcs, and even vampire bats. And remember the weapons you got at Grimly? Well, the good news is they will be useful here, as well, since both sims use the same Grim Combat System. A twofer!

Now, if you are not in the mood for fighting but still want to enjoy the toxic fumes of a postapocalyptic environment while engaging in some roleplaying with your friends, then by all means go to The Wastelands, a venerable estate made up by 10 sims established in 2007. Another classic in the realm of postapocalyptic places is the City of Lost Angels, which, unlike The Wastelands, is an adult location and thus adult activities are allowed.

Don’t wait for me to tell you how the story ends: go and live the story yourself. Then come back here and tell us how it went.