Sarah Sassone is a writer, teacher, and someone who truly believes that mermaids exist. Her dream is to one day win some kind of award (anything from the Pulitzer Prize to most awesome cat lady) and find a husband who is a doctor by day and a lumberjack by night.
We always say that in case of a zombie apocalypse, you’ll be the shooter and I’ll drive the getaway car. You think we should take the Rav-4, your family car, but I insist on my Civic (better gas mileage). We’ll take shotguns and extra ammunition. Machine guns attract zombies because of the repeated noise.
We say we will drive up through New York to Canada. If we beat the traffic on the GW, we’ll be in the clear, but let’s face it—no one ever defies the GW. Let’s hope we’re not in the city when the uprising begins. Outside the city, we’ll take the Palisades Parkway to Exit 17 to NY-36 North. Zombies are slow, but zombie cows are faster and freakier. When we reach the New York farms, we need to be extra alert. The zombie cows have battered, bloody ribs and colorless fur, swirling red eyes and swollen udders. If they hit my Civic, we’re screwed.
We’ll need to stop for gas in a rural town, perhaps near Aurora, because there will be fewer zombies in the country. We absolutely cannot stop in Syracuse. That huge party school will have tons of zombies, hipster zombies—rotting bodies in Forever 21 and Goodwill clothes, zombie boys in ugly grandpa sweaters, and zombie girls in tattered flannels. There will be way too many to kill.
When we get onto I-290 from the Thruway, we’re definitely in the clear. We’ll see the signs for Niagara Falls and we will almost be out of the U.S., out of Zombieworld.
When we finally get to Canada, we’ll give our passports to the mounties and put on fake tourist faces. They can’t know that we’re here because of the zombies. You need to innocently look at pictures of moose we stashed in the glove compartment. You’ll need to play dumb. What’s the plural to moose? you’ll ask. Meese?
I’ll wear my classic hockey jersey. Messier, eh? they’ll say. He’s from Edmonton, you know. I do know, but I’ll act like I don’t.
The mounties will open the gates for us and the zombies will no longer be a threat. Everything happens later in Canada. The eighties didn’t come until the late nineties. Their teenage angst shows came a decade later. Even the actors—William Shatner, Ryan Gosling, Rachel McAdams—barely age. We probably have a good ten years to spend there before the Canadian zombies come. They’ll be nicer though. Can we eat your face, eh? No? Oh, shucks.