September 11th. It's weird, that day was so important, so significant before the zombie apocalypse. Now it's faded away with the rest of civilization. But yet when the date arrives, I still get that welling of emotions. Maybe it's because it's a tangible point in history--a day when everything changed. The zombie apocalypse is not nearly so condensed. It started on a day nobody is quite sure of and it's still going on now. It ends...When? When the last human dies? When the last zombie decays to nothingness?
I remember September 11th, 2001. The day started strangely. I was sitting at home, checking my email and preparing to go to work when my dog (my stepdog, really) came up and put his head on my knee. He looked at me with such sad eyes, as if to say "Bad things are going on out there, you better stay home." It was strange because he had never really shown any particular affection for me before; we were kind of like college roommates--polite, respectful, cordial, but not really close, at least not at that time. He must have known something, somehow. I wish he was still around when the zombie apocalypse hit--he could have warned us.
Anyway, the first plane hit while I was driving to work, listening to Mancow Muller, a local radio talk show host. I don't know why--I hated talk radio and wasn't very fond of him particularly. I thought it was a joke when he said the plane hit the World Trade Center (he was the sort of radio talker who would follow up serious political discussion by calling some random person and making farting noises in the phone--real high brow entertainment. I wonder if he's a zombie yet?). By the time I made it to work, the second plane had hit, I had checked other stations and it had become clear that we were at war.
Now we have a different kind of war. No terrorists, no airstrikes, no speeches--just waves and waves of former humanity out there somewhere waiting to feast on us. Zombies or terrorists, I'm not sure which is worse.