This morning there was some hullabaloo down the road from our place. Some noisy hullabaloo.

We live in a secluded area out in the country and it’s usually pretty quiet. There’s a little noise from the highway, but it’s far enough away from us to be mostly unnoticeable. But there was an accident a few miles from the house and since nobody overreacts to a fatal car collision more efficiently than our County’s PD, they were sure to send over the entire police department as well as every ambulance and fire truck in the county. I think they even brought in some Mounties from up north.

Because this is the way my head works, I thought of the zombies first.

I get up way earlier than everyone else in the house. I usually have some tea, check my email. Enjoy the silence. Yesterday I used the time to clean my office. I finally found the calculator I bought a million years ago and forgot to open even though I needed it SO, SO bad when I bought it.

I like my time in the morning. The house is quiet and I have nothing I Have To Do. I hate the constant have-to. This time in the morning allows me to wake up slowly and peacefully. Well, most mornings anyway. This morning two people were busy dying on the side of the highway. Their lives seeped out on the pavement as mine slipped back in. Kind of depressing when you stop and think about it. So I won’t. Not too much. Not right now.

Anyway, I thought of the zombies because of the sirens. There were so many of them, so many different kinds. After the first one or two I really started to notice. It’s also kind of depressing to think about that. People hardly notice the sirens anymore. It’s not quite as bad as car alarm apathy, but it’s getting close. Even though I’m used to them, I’m not used to so many of them. That was a little weird. I’m used to hearing one. Maybe two. This morning they just kept coming. And coming. And coming. Spaced several minutes apart, but all of them loud, frantic, fast. One meant bad news. Two was worse. Too many to count means disaster. Bad juju distaster. I naturally thought the zombies had finally come.

My mind went from that thought to betting myself that the television would blare incredulous, sensational horror stories of all the atrocities taking place across the globe. Brains eaten. Cannibalism. The dead rising, prolific in number, hungry for flesh. That kind of thing. They would tell us to stay in our homes, aim for the head. Then the signal would go black, after about a week. I give us a week. Tops. If the zombies don’t finish us off, we’ll make ourselves extinct by one another’s hand in the ensuing madness. Neighbor will turn on neighbor. Mother on child. Every man for himself. I could survive the zombies. I’m pretty sure. I’ve seen enough zombie movies, read enough zombie books to have a pretty good idea. It”s Us I’m not sure about. The living make far less sense to me than the dead.

I wasn’t positive it was finally the zombies, but I had a good hunch and I was pretty sure the television would tell me all about it. But the remote was all the way over there and so  I just stared at it thinking, “Meh, let them come.”

Peace be with the families of this morning’s accident victims. I’m sure their hearts must be breaking. I’m sorry for them and their loss.