28 August 1998
The tranquility was quickly disturbed, two Z came prowling in the morning. I had no trouble getting rid of them. I really thought we would be safe in this old secluded cottage on the wooded hill overlooking the Great Lakes. I barricaded the many doors and windows of the old building with the wood of tables and other furniture that I managed to disassemble. I was desperately looking for a place to retreat when a real horde of Z emerged from the forest. We were stuck, helpless. The house was encircled, and the old pickup inaccessible. I imediately thought of the basement and the gallery leading to the foot of the cliff. I quickly made a noise generator with old mechanical scrap toys and a big pot. My plan was simple, worthy of a series Z. I expected to take advantage of the Z’s stupidity to make them fall off the cliff. I rushed to the little cabin. I activated the sound generator and screamed as loudly as possible to maximize my chances of success. When I saw the first Z fall, I quickly condemned the hut door and the undeground tunnel door. After joining my group, I waited for the Z to be sufficiently dispersed to sneak through a window towards the pickup. My companions weren’t slow to follow me, and I rode at full speed on the dirt roads.
Excerpt from “tribulations in zombie territory” by Beavis Harper, cinephile
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