Iroquois Heights High School
Corydon, Indiana
[John Arbuckle lights up a “q” – one of the post-war cigarettes named for their one-quarter tobacco content – and shakes his head at the ruins of his High School, which, as the interview is conducted, is being torn down by construction crews. This site, Iroquois Heights High School, is a sentimental place for John. This is where his war started.]
So, this is it?
Yeah. Hell of a place to die, huh? If that’s what you can call it, anyway.
How did Zack make it this far, anyway? Wasn’t some kind of warning system in place?
Are you joking? Look around you, man. This is Shitville. I guess the school had phones, sure, but remember, the Great Panic hadn’t even started yet, or we wouldn’t even have been in school. It had to be the hospital just down the block, [he gestures down the road, to a hospital that is no longer there] since the…ghouls, were in those toga-things they make you wear, where your ass shows and the nurses giggle and you feel like a dumbass.
I can’t even imagine being the poor kid who first saw them. What would I have done, man? Musta thought they were, like, burn victims or some shit. I know I would have. I feel like shit for saying this, but thank God it wasn’t me. Yeah. Thank God, man…
When did everyone realize what was going on, and how did they react?
[Laughs] You gotta be kidding. Shit, I dunno…when the “burn victims” started fucking eating people? But, uh, seriously, I guess…I remember some guy running past the class I was in – chemistry lab, we were combining some foul-smelling crap, but at least we got to play with fire – and he was just covered in blood, screaming his lungs out, “They ate him, for fuck’s sake! They fucking ate him!”
One of the counselors walking through the halls, this buff black guy, about 5’10”, real likeable, just tackles this kid and brings him right down, thinking this is some kind of sick prank or something. It’d almost be funny…almost. That is, if the kid wasn’t being followed by like five fucking zombies.
You saw this happening?
Yeah. When I heard the screaming, I was coming out of the bathroom, and the kid was way at the other end of the hall, coming my way. Got intercepted halfway there, and I watched them coming, the first Zs I ever saw. Of course, at the time, I didn’t know what to think, but, looking back on it, it’s fucking terrifying.
Anyway, my first instinct is “Jesus fucking Christ, run!” And I guess that’s why I lived. I know it’s probably a horrible thing to say – maybe I should have tried to help, been some kind of a hero, or something – but if I’d done anything stupid, there wouldn’t be much of anyone left to tell you this story.
So I run out of the school, since my class is right by the door that leads out to the parking lot, and my heart is pounding like God knows what. I guess that’s what I get for not playing any sports or whatever, but I was in full-on survival mode, dude. And what really sticks out to me is that I had no idea why. To all appearances, my life wasn’t in danger. I guess it’s like dogs, you know? They have that Z-sense or whatever; they can tell when Zack is in town, and start going apeshit. I ran like crazy until I got to my car – early-decade European coupe, my pride and joy – and only then did I look back. It was…hell. That’s the only way I can describe it.
What was happening?
Zack was pouring in. For him, it was lunchtime. Kids were pouring out, running and screaming. Some were trying to wrestle with Zack, and others, the hardcore kids, had knives that they were using to try to ward off ghouls. Lotta fuckin’ good that did ‘em. I must have zoned out, or something, because next thing I know, Zack’s coming for me. Guess I made a pretty appetizing target in those years. Anyway, I realize I’m about a minute away from being lunchmeat, and start trying to get into my car. It was like in the fuckin’ horror movies; had a case of the shakes so bad I had to guide the key into the lock with two fingers. Never bothered with those damned keyless unlock keychain whatever-the-hells. Anyway, I jump in, lock the doors, put the key in, turn her on, put my glasses on, take off my shoe…
Why did you take off your shoe?
Hah, funny you mention it. My friends gave me shit about it, actually. I took off my shoe because I couldn’t feel the pedals otherwise. I’d only been driving for about two months, mind you, and I was cautious. Been rear-ended once already, and didn’t want to return the favor or anything. Now that you bring that up, I guess it’s funny I remembered. In the middle of that huge shitstorm, I remembered that. Hah. Hell of a kid, I was.
Where was I, again?
Taking off your shoe, car started, glasses, et cetera.
Ah, right, right. Yeah. I throw her in reverse just as the radio comes on, and it’s “Shortest Straw”, by Metallica. The good old days, man. I was maybe, like, two, when the album came out. It was destiny, I guess. The song fit what everyone else was going through.
I turn around and back her out at like 30 miles an hour, slam the brakes, put her in drive, and just fuckin’ book it. I tear ass for about a mile and a half, when I pass my neighborhood. Nice, affluent, upscale neighborhood. Cold, though. Neighbors didn’t wave much, and their fuckin’ kids would just stand out in the middle of the street, for no fuckin’ reason at all.
[John goes quiet for a moment; his eyes lose focus. He talks quietly now.]
I guess…I guess I shouldn’t talk about ‘em like that. Just kids, man. Enjoying life, and all that. And now…gone. Damn. Whatever – not worth being upset over. Not my fault.
[John takes another drag from his “q”, and regains his confidence.]
Where was I? Ah, right – the neighborhood. Positively swarming with Zs. I turn in anyway, and just floor it. I try to avoid them, but it’s just not possible, since they’re coming right for me. Eventually, it stops mattering, when I’ve got enough momentum built up. Ever seen a Z hit by a car at 60 miles an hour?
[I shake my head.]
Tears ‘em in half. At this point, though, I’m beyond caring. I’ve got my parents and my sister to worry about. I pull up in my driveway, and my house is on fucking fire. Even to this day, I’ve got no idea why. I don’t stay long, except to open the garage and see that the car isn’t there. That’s all I need to know. I run to the fridge we’ve got in the garage and start chucking stuff into my backpack – it was empty, since the school year was almost over – which makes it clear now that I wasn’t thinking straight.
What do you mean? You’ve gotta have serious presence of mind to collect supplies when you know ghouls are about, and you’re not even armed…
Who the hell said anything about supplies? I was stuffing frozen food, wine, mineral water, energy drinks, whatever, into that backpack. Of course, that’s all we kept in the outside fridge, but still. It’s not much.
So anyway, I throw the backpack into the car, hop in, and get moving again. I’m halfway down the driveway when I hear barking. I look over and see my dog, like five feet away from some Zombie. It’s one of my neighbors. Nice enough lady, I guess, but like most middle-class suburban housewives, she was already sort of a zombie. Damn, now I feel bad. Fuck it. You know the type, dude. Boring-ass life, slave to fashion, played tennis. Just waiting to die, I guess. Or maybe travel the world, and then die. Depends on how their mutual funds turned out, or whatever.
Whatever. I guess that sorta lost coherence, but you know what I mean. That’s how I thought; that’s who I was, back in high school. I hated that, that nine-to-five lifestyle, not giving a fuck about anyone else’s problems, just living for yourself, pretending to be Christian, all that shit.
Wow, did I just go on another huge tangent? Let’s see…useless housewife, zombie…my house…ah, right – my dog. I hit the brakes, and open the door and just shout some gibberish: “Ayyyy! Heeyyy!” Dog runs right in.
I lock the doors, back out, put ‘er in drive, and once again, we’re in business. Dog is going nuts, though, in the back, running around and shit. I guess I didn’t notice that much – I just hauled ass toward the city.
Wait, the city? That’s where there would be more people, and thus more ghouls…
You think I considered that? If you did, you’re wrong. All I knew was, my dad worked at the hospital downtown, and he didn’t have a car.
But wasn’t your family rather, you know, affluent?
He was disabled. Couldn’t drive.
[The reason for John’s fierce determination to save his father becomes clear to me.]
Yeah. Anyway, I’m absolutely shredding ass down this normally crowded highway, and all I see is a few other cars hauling ass just the same – in the other direction. That’s when I got that maybe, maybe this was all coming from the city. So I finally remember that I have a cell phone. I pull it out, still doing about 70, and look – no bars. What the fuck happened to the cell tower? Why would Zombies go for the fucking cell stations? They weren’t that smart. Or at least it didn’t seem to me. Still doesn’t make sense, but what the hell. Then I see it gets one bar. Then that disappears.
I try anyway. I get him on the line, and my heart leaps into my throat. It’s real choppy, and I can only make out bits and pieces. I don’t remember exactly what I heard, but it was something to the effect of “Shut up and listen. We’re going west. Get in your car and head towards Arkansas. We love you very much. We’re all safe.”
Hell of a lot for a conversation that was all chopped up.
Yeah – mind you, I didn’t hear all that, word for word, but that’s basically what I got.
Right. You filled in the blanks.
Exactly. So anyway, I realize that I’m heading the wrong way. I do a U-turn and start tearing ass in the other direction, following the flow of what little traffic there is. I check my gas, and thank God that I filled it up just the night before. My nerves start to calm a little from that panicked state, but they’re still buzzing. I know I’m going to pass my neighborhood again, not to mention my school. I just sort of keep my eyes on the road, and accelerate a little more. I did my best to ignore the fact that I was having to swerve to avoid my “classmates”. A lot of them, I didn’t manage to avoid. I think that will always stay with me.
I’m sorry…
Don’t be. By that time, they were reanimated. I shouldn’t feel bad, but it’s hard to dehumanize them. I guess that’s kinda ironic. We try to “put a human face on something so distinctly inhuman”, as the president put it. But whatever.
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