Nick - All Alone

We here at Classic Brian like to write about doomsday scenarios. Especially zombies. And while zombie breakouts may seem fun and exciting, I do not care much for them. If there were a zombie breakout, you and I would probably not be main characters or saviors. We would be hapless survivors at best and victims at worst.

But what if you woke up one morning to discover that you were the only person left on the planet?

Suddenly, no matter what you do you become the main character. What do you do? Do you take time to do what you've always wanted to do? To dance on the grave of society? Maybe take time to read a book you never got around to? Or live in an expensive house? I cannot answer any of these questions for you. But I can tell you what I would do!

. . .

I wake up, and everyone is gone. There is no noise coming from the street. Nobody at home. Even the dogs are gone. The only thing left is eery silence. Unfortunately, it would probably take me a while to notice. I'd probably wonder where everybody went for a few hours. Any other person would let the time tick away, waiting for something to happen. But not me. I would come to my senses, then hurriedly confirm my suspicions, and then spring into action. After all, I've written a blog post about this.

The scariest thing about this situation is that we don't really know how long electricity would last without any human oversight. The general consensus I get from Googling this is that the power would probably go out within the first day. Thus, the first day is the most important. I would frantically get to work before the power went out, forever.

Probably my first task would be to collect a gas powered generator and as much gas as possible. I would get to the gas station and fill as many gas canisters as I could fit in my car.

You know. These things.

Then I would go to a hardware store or something and take as many gas powered generators as I could find. Also I would grab several lengths of clear tubing so that I could learn to siphon gas from the many cars left behind by humans.

Finally, I would pick up enough food to fill a fridge and freezer, and settle into my new lifestyle. I would take as much cereal as I could; it will last until the end of time. Also I would get all of the ice cream, because I only have one shot at frozen things. And I would take a ton of milk, because I love milk and I don't really want to raise cows.

Obviously this stuff can't last forever; I would definitely be making frequent food raids at stores. However, having food and electricity could help me transition into an unpopulated world until I get better at scavenging.

After living this way for a long time, I would probably get very bored and lonely. Maybe it's time for a road trip? At the very least, I can go check out the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone Park, and all that other natury stuff. I would pack food and gas with me, and if I ever had car troubles I could simply find a car with keys in the ignition. I hope. Maybe I should find spare batteries and stuff too.

Probably when I get to experience the glory of nature without any people around, I will become a part of it myself. I will live in the wilderness, and learn to live in peace and harmony with the animals. I could live in the shadows of the mountains at Yellowstone Park, spending my leisure time watching the geysers and swimming with the fish.

Of course, I would get bored of that too before long. And then what kind of future awaits me? Maybe I'd go try to fly a plane. I guess I really don't know what I'd do next. But when all of you are dead, I'll find out.

-Nick.

Training Days [Open Office title]

The following is something I wrote while on the way to Chicago.


I'm on a train. This may be the first time for me. Quite honestly, I'm not sure. I feel that maybe, when I was a child, I had been here before. In this arena. The slight shaking and constant moving. I'm sitting down and going sixty miles per hour at the same time. It's different then driving in a car because, well, because it is. It just isn't the same thing. I'm with a bunch of strangers now, or as Tyler Durden calls them, “single-serving friends.”

I can't say that this is fun or interesting, because it's not. It's just a train. It knows where it's going, it knows it's going to get there. There's a bunch of tracks ahead. And we're going to cross every single one of them. It brings me back, though, to my youthy youth. Final Fantasy VII begins in a train. They jump off of it. I don't plan on jumping off this train. I think I'll stay in my seat.

A couple seats ahead some drunk guy and some college experts are discussing the in's and out's of beer bongs and boring southern life, with the drunk guy making an occasional aside about the wings he bought. Other than that there isn't much conversation. A girl to my right addresses letters that she still writes. I have boarded this train after a long near-four hour wait at the station. I realize that waiting four hours in a train station isn't what it used to be. I played Nintendo DS and surfed the web to pass time, all while listening to my favorite music on my iPod. God bless 2010. 2000 would have seen me running out of light for my gameboy while I maybe played solitaire on my then state-of-the-art laptop.

I don't know if we should be excited or scared of the future of technology. Something always goes wrong with technology in movies and books. There's the perpetual notion that technology will be man's undoing. That may be true, as technology now is more powerful than it it's ever been, given the human race's reliance on it.

I've stated before how I want a zombie outbreak to end civilization, and I maintain those sentiments to this day. You only get to die once, you may as well participate in the apocalypse. Is that selfish? Sure. Is it reasonable? Surprisingly, yeah. But winter has made me realize something. Zombies don't bundle up. They would freeze, just like the pieces of a squashed pumpkin. The question is, would they thaw out and return to zombie form? I hope so! Long live the zombie outbreak. (“I'll tell ya, I've been to many-a-bar, many-a-restaurant, and nothing compares to the microwaved hot wings on this train.” -Drunk Guy) The zombie craze needs to fade first. Right now I believe planet earth is at its most prepared for a zombie outbreak. We have a critically acclaimed zombie show on TV. There's something wrong with that. I love The Walking Dead. I watch the hell out of it. I find the tactic of focusing the show on character development smart, but somehow belittling. The most central characters have yet to die and seemingly every character that you can tell is a single-episode character exits via death predictably and bereft of emotion surprise and bitterness. They've popped a couple big balloons but nothing to draw a tear from any watching. In my opinion the show needs to pick up in its second season and the characters need to be had. They need to have some zombies shoved in their face and they need to see no remorse. Kill somebody I like. Leave me wondering why to watch the show. Because the characters will be wondering what they have to live for. So bam. That sounds like a damn good option to me.

But furthermore. Let's advance. You me, and 12,000 other people in America survive the zombie outbreak. What the hell do we do? How do we recover? Mankind is not equipped now to handle a post-apocalyptic scenario. All the technology we now take for granted is great, it really is. But we don't know it. For all the advances we've made in technology I think that, granted not everything burns to the ground, it would still take us half the time to catch up to where we are today. That number comes from the time we colonized America. Technology is now known by a select few who, shall we generalize, aren't equipped to handle the apocalypse. They die out? We start over. Who knows how to make a Macbook? Does anybody know how many years it would take American colonists to make a Macbook? Last time it took them approximately 400 years. I say it takes at least 150 to recreate that feat if we are starting from relative scratch. And that's with the ruins of America providing the blueprints. Gathering the materials is another thing. We need to establish the class system all over again. We need to produce fuel. We need to farm shit again. (We still do that? Oh..) But there are sparse people who know how to produce the technology we rely on so heavily. I will say this. Cars, we have covered. Architecture? Relatively covered. There are things that we are heavily familiar with now. And duplicating the remaining technology will be comparatively simple. But in a post-apocalyptic society (zombies or nukes or what have you), America will be fucked.

We've stopped in Mattoon (hometown of Will Leitch), which means it's time for me to listen to my iPod and take a nap. Going sixty miles an hour. Also fuck this baby in the front seat. I hope it fucking dies.

...

Nap my ass, let's keep going. Tried it for twenty minutes. Drank some Pepsi. Good to go. Drunk guy now is presumably napping as a couple next to me (including letter girl) tries to work something out. Hope it goes awry, just for the sake of the ride. Single-serving friends. We don't care to give them an epilogue. Which brings me to another point. There are so many people in this world. Holy crap there are a ton. You wanna know how much desire I have to meet all of them? Zero. I want to find people I like. I want to find people I don't like. I want to find people who are good single-serving friends.

Like Dave. Dave is a guy I met on a bus. He was drunk. Drunk and very excited. He was donning a sweater and a sweet hat that you'd see either John Witter or KiD CuDi wear (yes I stylize it, it's cooler that way). He was spouting about his new phrase he invented, “slaying sluts,” and how happy he was to be as drunk as he was. He was tall, lanky, black, and had four to six friends who were all drunk to a lesser degree. Dave was shouting about his new phrase, how cool he was, how cool his dorm's RA is, and got everyone in his vicinity a free round of high-fives that were accompanied by a confirming “slayin' sluts” (I'm sorry for high-fiving him, mom. What can I say? He was on a roll. Also it was funny.) until he offered one to the girl sitting to his right. Showing a shred of dignity, she gave him the cold shoulder, and the bus applauded and laughed. Dave's shoulders sunk and he hung his head in defeat. It was great. Oh Dave. What a great single-serving friend. I met Dave again that next morning. He was up early, like myself. 7:30 in the raw of morning, hungover Dave and hungover Eliot met up and talked about our nights. Dave both won and lost, successfully getting really drunk at a party and then successfully throwing up all over his room when he got home, while I enjoyed a mild buzz at an apartment party that cost five bucks. We waited for breakfast. Breakfast opened at nine. Dave wasn't as funny as the night before. Dave gave a scoffing laugh when I brought up his catchphrase, still a running joke between my roommate, Brian and I. (I think we may be losing this deal with the neighboring couple, as they appear to have made up. Damn.) I decided Dave was as cool as neither John Witter nor KiD CuDi. Single-serving.

We arrive in Effingham, where greeting me is Lupe Fiasco's “Failure,” and leaving me behind is drunk guy. How sad. I love Lupe Fiasco. He's a cool dude. Kanye West's latest album has turned a lot of heads. This, in turn, has turned my head. It's getting rave reviews. It's a good album. It's not great. Kanye gives a full effort for once, and his beats are beautiful, but the rap leaves some to be desired and still isn't as good as what Kanye was producing when he was climbing the mountain and not shouting obscenities off the top of it. Also I think I would chop about 20 minutes of fluffy bullshit off the album if I had the power to edit such things. By no means is it Kanye's best album. I think he's had better ones (and certainly worse ones), but CuDi's first Man on the Moon was equally well produced (despite being less budgeted) [Editor's Note: yeah, I've since changed my mind on this subject.] and no one (except former Classic Brian writer Cory Robinson) found it overly appealing. You indie kids suck at rap.


 
I guess I stopped writing there. Well, that was fun and easy. Hope you enjoyed.

--Eliot Sill

Behind the Scenes of Zombie Snowpocalypse

Zombie Snowpocalypse by Mada
Zombie Snowpocalypse Part II: Back to School! by Eliot
Zombie Snowpocalypse Part III: Breaking the Ice by Brendan
Zombie Snowpocalypse Part IV: The Spiral Collapses by Conor
Zombie Snowpocalypse Balboa by Classic Brian
Zombie Snowpocalypse Part VI: The Darkness and The Dawn by Robert
Zombie Snowpocalypse Part VII: The Final Struggle by Nick

We here at Classic Brian like to pride ourselves in our vast and diverse audience. Except not really, because everyone who reads this blog is a friend of ours. Anyway, the point is that Zombie Snowpocalypse is filled with in-jokes, easter eggs, and things that could use some clarification. So this post is where anything that needs explaining will be compiled.

This is mostly for the benefit of those who don't know all of us personally, as well as an opportunity for some of the subtler jokes to be pointed out. As all members of Classic Brian can contribute to this post, it may be edited frequently.

Roy Schribner

The biggest in-joke that some of our audience might not understand is the guy named Roy Schribner. Roy Schribner is Classic Brian's resident troll. He loves to comment on our blogs and harp on us, Conor in particular. He has his own blog here. Some of his work can be found in comments here and here.

His signature was copied directly for the story. His dialogue is merely our best impression.

Go To Sleep

There are a lot of references to the "Go To Sleep" game. Most notably in Brian's final scene the scene where Robert is on a leash. Basically this is a game the authors of Classic Brian play a lot in real life. If someone pretends to stab you while saying "Go To Sleep," you have to fall down until someone wakes you up. Brian and Robert are noted for frequently getting way too into this game.

Nick typically just stands around and wakes people up while this game is going on, which he flippantly addresses with his "I hate being a white mage" line.


Band Practice

Most of you probably know already that Conor has a band called Band Practice. Their music can be found here. The note written by Conor is mostly an amalgamation of Band Practice quotes. Before and during Conor's monologue in the last episode, six Band Practice quotes are hidden. See if you can find them all! They're in the same order as the songs appear on the Band Practice EP.

FFFF

Conor, Brian, and Eliot have a tradition of playing through Final Fantasy games together. They call this "Final Fantasy Friends Forever," or FFFF for short. The "Final Fiendish Faceoff Friends" segment of the last episode is mostly a parody of this. Nick often shows up to critique their Final Fantasy skills, which is why he's so critical of their fighting style in this segment.


Ratios

The cast of Classic Brian keeps a running tally of everyone's kissing ratios. The idea is that if you've kissed more men than women, you are quantifiably gay. (Unless you are a women, in which case you can't lose.) This is why Robert jokes about "sabotaging their ratios" when lips of the dead Brian and Eliot touch. This game is pretty much just and excuse for Eliot and Robert and Brian to all kiss each other.


Lists

While Mada and Nick are adventuring together, Mada suggests that they "make a list of their options," to which Nick responds, "no one likes reading your lists." This is a joke about Mada's Classic Brian contributions frequently appearing in list format. This one in particular is being poked fun at.


Conor's Mannerisms

Conor has a very distinctive way of speaking, and several Classic Brian writers made his dialogue reflect that. Notice that he says "sort of" as one word during his monologue, which he frequently does in his Classic Brian posts. (5th paragraph here.) Also poked fun at is his tendency to become grumpy early in the morning, a reputation he received from having sleep-overs with the Easily Amused Teen Improv Troupe. 

In the final episode, Norman Oklahoma, where Conor goes to school, is a prominent location; his music major is also poked fun at. In Brendan's post it is noted that all that remains of Eliot and Mada's "cannibalistic frenzy" (eating Conor) is an outstretched hand with its fingers fashioned in the position of a Gb dim chord.  Conor has been known to flaunt his knowledge of piano chords, particularly on one of the first side "Notes" on Classic Brian except no that totally wasn't Conor, that was another member of Classic Brian posing as him.  Lastly, Eliot makes mention of his "dry-ass knuckles," which is just a reference to Conor's red, cracked skin and his fear of lotions.

Eliot Sill


Brendan also pokes fun at Eliot's fanatical devotion to the world of sports, particularly the Green Bay Packers. At the time of his post, Super Bowl XLV (in which the Packers played) was less than a week away, and Eliot talked nonstop about his beloved team in person, on Facebook and Twitter.


Cory Robinson


Cory Robinson is a hipster, one of the few anyone on Classic Brian knew before college.  He is noted in Brendan's post as drinking PBR, consuming acid, listening to Animal Collective and riding on a fixed-gear bicycle, all of which are favored pastimes of many hipsters.


The "Awkward Sex Scene" Between Eliot and Mada


Brendan fashioned this scene loosely off a scene in the children's action/comedy 3 Ninjas (skip to 1:26).


Brendan's Puns

Throughout several of the past seven installments of Zombie Snowpocalypse, Brendan is seen making unnecessary and usually cheesy puns either to alleviate the gravity of a dire situation or simply for his own perverted indulgence.  His puns show up quite frequently in his posts, like this one and this one.

Mada's Cat-like Agility

Perhaps a tad vague, Brendan writes, "Mada sprung off the ground like a cat" in the scene in which he attempts to murder her and Eliot.  Mada starred in a video with her Improv group in which he she portrayed a human with cat-like tendencies, or maybe a cat played by a human?

Spite


Spite is a horrible horrible thing that plagues several of the members of Classic Brian. The fourth Zombie Snowpocalypse by Conor relies heavily on Robert's ability to lower everyone's chances of living for the sake of being contrary. Real life Robert would do this. A little known fact is that spite motivates approximately 43% of the actions taken by the members of Classic Brian.

. . .

Easter Eggs

• It's noted that Nick is "worst at flirting of the entire Classic Brian cast, which is quite a feat in itself." This is a reference to Brendan's Classic Brian on flirting. Nick shares the inability, to say the least.
• Nick is the only member of the cast to kill literally no one the entire series.
• All of the songs on Brendan's iPod come from this article. Many jokes are also directed at Brendan's sometimes-pretentious taste in music.
• There are several scenes in Brendan's post that involve his character getting "overly sentimental."  It is well known that whenever Brendan writes a blog post about himself, he gets excessively nostalgic and tags his post "overly sentimental."  Also, about half of the posts with that tag are his. 
• References in Brendan's post to the days on which each fallen Classic Brian member presumably died are linked to the day on which they post each week.  Similarly, before Brendan attempts to murder Mada and Eliot in Brendan's post, the line "Thursdays were never good for me" references the fact that Brendan writes on Thursdays (except in actuality he likes that day).

Nick - Zombie Snowpocalypse Part VII: The Final Struggle

Robert looked back out the window at the rising sun. For the first time, they had a reason to fight. Finally, a purpose. As Robert began folding the paper back up, a small red dot appeared in his matted, unwashed hair. A shot fired, and Robert slumped to the ground, dead.

There was an eerie, chilling silence. It felt like they stood in shock for several minutes, but it was no more than a fraction of a second before Nick screamed, “Everyone, MOVE!” and dived onto the two girls, all three of them tumbling out into the hallway and out of sight of any windows.

More silence.

All three of them heard a faint whirring which became more distant as they listened. Nick furrowed his brow, unsure as to the source of the noise.

“That sounds like the helicopter that came to rescue us...” Mada timidly suggested.

They poked their heads back into the room. Carnage was everywhere. Brendan lay in the far corner, a bullet wound in the back of his head. Eliot lay covered by a sheet from the bed. Mada averted her eyes before they could tear up, and looked toward Robert, most recently slain of the group.

Robert lay slumped partway against the bed. His hair was rugged and unwashed, and his T-shirt and button-up still held their casual and nonchalant look. He had become an icon of survival; he had given up all semblance of civility, he had killed without remorse, and still he had fallen in the end. His aviators lay on the floor in front of him, one lens cracked.

“Look at this...” Nick said, pointing towards Robert’s motionless body. “The bullet went clean through him. It went in his forehead and out through his lower back. Which means...”

“I did hear a helicopter!” Mada interjected. “He had to have been shot from above. But... who would want to kill Robert? And why didn’t they come for us?” As she spoke, her head turned to Brendan’s lifeless form. “And why were you and Brendan so eager to kill each other!? Hasn’t there been enough violence!?” Her voice became shaky as she began to think of her fallen lover. If only Eliot hadn’t died... they were meant to be together...

Nick faltered as tears began to run down Mada’s face. “Listen, we need to pull together if we’re going to get through this. Please stop crying. I don’t know why anyone would come for Robert. I thought maybe you would know seeing as how I’ve been kind of out of the loop this whole time. You guys did basically abandon me after all. Please, please stop crying.”

Mada regained control of herself. She would have to think about Eliot at a later time.

“And here’s the deal with Brendan. He knew this whole thing was coming. I don’t know how. I heard him talking on the phone with Conor about the optimal temperature for the creation of zombies, so I subdued him any way I could. I didn’t want to kill him, but he was obviously up to something. He was dangerous. I tried to get you guys to come rescue us so that I could capture him and Conor and then find out what’s been going on.” Nick paused, looking around the room. “But now they’re both dead. And apparently Brian was in on this somehow too, judging from that note.”

Mada was silent. It was hard to believe that Conor, who had tried his hardest to lead them through the outbreak, was behind all of this. And to imagine that Brendan was also guilty was also difficult to swallow.

Semas had also been standing silently, but she looked a little more self-aware, as if whatever drug Brian had slipped to her was finally wearing off. Finally, she broke the silence.

“You... you saved us. You pushed us out of the room.” She said, while moving in to give Nick a grateful hug.

“Er... yeah... but... I don’t think they were really... looking for us anyway...” Nick mumbled as he awkwardly received her embrace. It is a little known fact that Nick is the worst at flirting of the entire Classic Brian cast, which is quite a feat in itself.

The group took what little supplies they had. Nick pocketed Brendan’s iPod, which had remained on Robert’s lifeless body. He also took Conor’s note, which Robert had still been clutching when he had been shot. He wrapped some clothes around his leg to help the bleeding.

“I guess we’re headed for Norman, Oklahoma.” Mada said. Nick nodded in silent agreement, and Semas followed seemingly without knowing or caring what was going on.

They stopped in an abandoned department store and found winter coats. Nick changed out of his girls’ clothes into a badass leather jacket. He kept the slightly bloodstained Oakley’s he had taken from Brian. He then picked up a pair of scissors.

“We’re going to have to travel light. I’m going to need to be more aerodynamic.”

The group stood in silence as Nick cut off his long hair. He stood before them more confident, agile, and sexy than ever before. Then the group set off again.

Hordes of zombies were rarer now; it seemed that with less people to eat, the weak ones were slowly dying off. After a long journey, they found a bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle with flowery brake lights and keys still in the ignition. They set out for Oklahoma listening to a torturous amount of Taylor Swift, because Mada was riding shotgun and therefore in charge of the radio.

As the group arrived in Norman, they noticed that it was far colder and far zombie-er than the rest of the trip had been. This place was the source. This is where it was all going to come down.

“I’m picking up a weird radio signal. It’s interrupting my horrible, horrible taste in music.” Mada said.

Nick looked out the window. There were zombies surrounding them, but they seemed totally oblivious to the car full of human flesh. The hordes were traveling somewhere, as if they were being directed.

“This might be a stretch,” said Nick, “But those zombies are clearly headed somewhere. Maybe the radio signal is directing them...?”

“Then all we have to do is follow the zombies to find out where this is coming from!” Mada interjected.

Semas sat quietly in the back seat and said nothing. Although the drugs Brian had given her had worn off, she was still quiet and scared out of her mind by the whole situation.

After following the zombies to the center of campus, the ended up outside the music building. Zombies were packed all around it, standing completely still, unable to get in due to the metal fence surrounding the building.

“That’s where this is coming from. I think we just need to get inside that building and we’ll find out what’s been going on.” Said Nick, not letting the hordes of zombies around them break through his calm demeanor.

“I don’t know if we should do this,” Mada said, “Maybe we should stop and make a list of our options.”

“There’s only one way in,” Nick responded. “Besides, no one likes reading your lists.”

It was a risky move, but the trio got out of the car amidst the horde of zombies. They walked slowly through the eery crowd to the short fence, which was easily climbable for a human but prevented the zombies from entering due to their poor agility. Mada hops over the fence with her cat-like agility. Nick puts his hand on the it, preparing to crawl over.

The zombies attack.

Mada screams, Nick jumps over the fence, and Semas flails in panic as the zombies crowd around her. Nick and Mada reach over and pull her over to the other side, but not before she is bitten several times.

“NICK! WHAT DO WE DO!?” Mada screams. Semas stands, dumbfounded. Mada gets out machine gun she had taken from Eliot’s body.

“No.” Nick said, putting out his hand. “We have this.” He holds up the flask; all that remains of Cory’s miraculous, hallucinogenic serum. “She’ll be tripping balls for a few hours, but at least she’ll survive.” He pours the contents of the serum into Semas’ mouth. She returns to the silent, out-of-touch state she had been in back when they rescued her from Brian’s tyrannical clutches.

Mada and Nick shared a long, passionate glance. At least as passionate as eye contact can be through a pair of sunglasses. Nick threw down the empty bottle of serum and clutched his knife. Mada held onto her machine gun; there was still a little bit of ammo she had been saving. Semas deliriously clutched her broadsword. The three stepped into the musical fortress.

Blackness.

It was totally dark inside the building. Mada led the way with her gun in hand.

All the lights came on suddenly, blinding the trio. Mada screamed.

Nick took control, protected by his powerful sunglasses. “Mada! It’s okay. The lights must be automatic. Everything’s fine.”

They looked around. The room looked like an experiment gone horribly wrong. It was filled with strange machines. Through the smoke and debris around them they could still see a shadowy figure on the other side of the room.

“I’ve been expecting you.” A voice rang out and the figure stepped forward into the light. “How do you like the new world I’ve created?”

And then Mada sees his face. Covered in tattered flesh like a zombie, the face is somehow familiar. It’s the face of a friend of hers... or one that looks like it. It’s hard to explain how similar yet dissimilar the zombified face looked.

“It’s impossible!” Mada shouted.

It’s Conor. Zombie Conor. His flesh was tattered and pale. There was a large bullet wound in the back of his head.

“How are you... what happened? They said you were dead.” Nick stuttered.

“Allow me to explain.” Said Conor, menacingly. “I was new here in this town. Winter was at my door. I was terrified. And lonely. I didn’t have any friends here in Oklahoma. So I thought, why not create my own friends? I thought I could control people. I got funding from the school to do this science project.”

“But,” Nick interjected, “How did you find time to do all of this?”

“Simple,” Conor scoffed, “I’m a music major. I don’t have any real work to do. Anyway, I was working on my experiment. But then the dean came to visit, and he disapproved. They were going to cut my funding. I had to launch my plan early, and I couldn’t really control people. I could just, uh... sortof zombify them I guess. When my plan backfired, it began to spread. I came back to Springfield to save you guys. AND YOU SHOT ME IN THE HEAD.”

His voice echoed through the large room. The trio listened to the echo grow smaller and smaller each time it repeated.

“Conor... I’m sorry... I didn’t...” Mada tried to explain it, but the words wouldn’t come out. She had, after all, shot him. She could understand his anger.

“But... how are you alive?” Nick asked.

“Well, I had been working on fixing this mess. I developed a way to make zombies that could be controlled. That could talk and act like a normal person. I even trained a few to fly helicopters and shoot guns. I injected myself with a vaccine that would kick in if I were bit by a zombie; I would turn into one of my improved zombies instead of a mindless monster. Of course, I didn’t expect it to be as necessary as it was. It was merely a precautionary measure.”

“So what you’re saying...” Nick started, “is that you can fix this? That the zombies can be stopped? I’m so glad we made it here to talk to you!”

“Oh no,” chuckles Conor, “I think you misunderstand me. I’m not going to turn my lovely hordes of killers into peaceful creatures... I’m going to turn everyone into one of my zombies, and then I will rule over all of them! Plus, uh, I sortof still have a craving for human flesh. I couldn’t work around that side effect.”

Conor burst into maniacal laughter. Mada took aim and fired the last ammunition from her machine gun into him, but the bullets all impacted the dead flesh of his legs with a dull thud.

Conor called out to a doorway behind him. “Assemble, my minions! Our ultimate battle team cannot be stopped: Final Fiendish Faceoff Friends, assemble!”

And from the doorway behind him came zombie Eliot and zombie Brian. Mada began to sob, and called out to Eliot.

“Eliot! I love you! Remember when we went to prom together?”

Zombie Eliot was oblivious to her cries, as he was firmly under Conor’s control.

“We’re going to kill you and eat you.” Said zombie Eliot. “We’re going to keat you!!”

The Final Fiendish Faceoff Friends attacked all at once, and began to run at Nick Mada and Semas.

“Wow.” Nick remarked critically, “You guys are terrible at fighting. What kind of strategy is that? Did you even think this out at all? I mean, you should be running long range attacks on Eliot instead of Conor.  And you clearly didn’t stock up on items before you started this fight.”

Mada and Semas ganged up on Brian, while Nick stood back and healed them.

“Man,” Nick remarked bitterly, “I hate being the white mage.”

“Go to sleep!!” Brian shouted as he lunged with his knife.

“Hey Brian!” Nick shouted, “I’m deriving serious pleasure from fighting you. I’m really enjoying it.”

“Ha! Your spite trick won’t work on me. I’m not going to take myself out just to spite you.” Brian responded.

Mada jumped into the conversation. “Zombie Robert would have been dedicated enough to do it!”

“Dammit!” Shouted Brian, as he put himself to sleep with his knife out of spite.

The trio turned to Conor and Eliot.

“Muahaha! You may have taken out Brian, but it’s getting late. Once we reach three in the morning, I’ll be filled with unstoppable grumpy rage!”

“Oh yeah,” said Zombie Eliot, “You do get kind of bitchy when you’re tired. Like on that acid trip I had.”

“Hey Conor!” Said Nick, waving Brendan’s iPod in front of him, “I was just talking to the zombies outside and they haven’t heard any Band Practice songs.”

“What... really? Well... can I borrow that iPod for a minute?” Conor took the iPod and hurried outside to show the zombies his music.

“Ha! Conor is a terrible villain.” Nick exclaimed, “Well Mada, according to that letter, there should be a way to stop the Zombie Snowpocalypse in here somewhere. I bet it’s deeper in the base. ...Mada?”

Nick turned to see Mada running toward Eliot with open arms.

“Oh Eliot, I missed you so much! Being around Robert and Brian for so long made me realize what a real man you are! They always try and pretend that they’re cool and confident... but you don’t have to pretend, Eliot. You’re comfortable with who you are, and I love you for it.”

With that, Mada jumped into zombie Eliot’s arms and proceeded to make out with him passionately. The only problem was that Eliot was, in fact, a zombie and was actually just trying to eat her face. The two were disgustingly intertwined, Mada filled with love and Eliot filled with a deep hunger for mortal flesh. The scene was startlingly similar to the “sex” scene which had been chronicled with disgusting detail in Eliot’s acid trip, except that Mada probably wouldn’t survive it. As Eliot consumed Mada’s face, Nick pulled Semas away from the adorable/gruesome scene and ran further into the fortress.

Nick was in bad shape. His injuries from the days previous pretty much prevented him from fighting. Semas could only protect him for so long in her drugged state. As the two of them dashed into the next room, Zombie Robert stood in front of them, his bullet wound still bleeding and one lens of his aviators cracked.

“You know,” said zombie Robert, “Working for Conor sucks.”

“Will you let us through?” Asked Nick. It was, admittedly, a stupid question.

“Well...” Thought Robert, “What’s in it for me? I mean, I would let you through, but it’s going to take some serious persuasion to make me ignore the big plot hole. Conor went to Springfield when he could have just stopped the zombies from here? Plus it was never explained why he sent people to kill me but not you. I mean, come on. What shoddy story writing.”

After some negotiating, Nick hesitantly agreed to give Robert Semas in return for passage. She was still totally clueless about what was going on.

“Okay, thanks!” Said Robert, taking his new acquisition with him. “I never even liked Band Practice that much anyway. Your leg is bleeding, by the way.”

As Nick advanced past Robert, he could hear him talking to Semas. “You’re going to be the new Hannah. First I’m going to dye your hair, and then teach you how to do improv, and then make you a Bears fan...”

As Nick hobbled into the last room, a giant computer screen towered above him. It appeared to have the controls for the zombie program on the display. “I’ve got to get to that monitor!” Nick shouted aloud.

“Luckily, I’ve been monitoring your progress!”

Brendan dropped down from the ceiling. He had become a horrifying bird-zombie reminiscent of the Birdndan from Eliot’s imagination. Also, apparently his puns are worse when he is undead.

“Out of my way, Brendan. I’m sorry about what happened between us, but I need to get to that terminal!”

“That’s not the only thing that’s terminal!” Quipped Brendan cleverly, as he left a probably-fatal gash in Nick’s shoulder with his talons.

Nick fell to the ground. Too injured to stand, he could only pray for a deus ex machina. As hopelessness overtook him, he heard a CRASH as someone burst through a wall. (It was a really quick deus ex machina.) Nick and The Birdndan stared open mouthed at the one person they hadn’t expected to see.

“What kind of titty-munching pussy gives up after one hit from this asshat?”

It was Roy Schribner.

“You go ahead,” He said, “I’ll take real good fucking care of this dick-tree.”

Nick crawled up to the computer. He could hear the sound of The Birdndan and Roy Schribner fighting behind him. He guessed Conor’s password (it was “<3 U Rhett”) and found the zombie deactivate button. As he clicked the button, he began to fall in and out of consciousness. Would the button turn the zombies back? Or stop their spread? Or would they all just fall down? It’s really weird how unclear that was. The last thing Nick heard before passing out was a victory cry as the fight behind him ended...

“ScHrIbNiZzZzZ!!!!!!!”

Outside, snow fell. Debris from the crisis lay everywhere. Zombie Snowpocalypse.

CREDITS.

Zombie Snowpocalypse Part VI: The Darkness and The Dawn

Robert: Tomorrow, many of you die. Your futures have been determined. Will you survive?

Conor: One of the scariest texts I’ve ever received, yeah, sure. I’ve prepared for all possibilities. Do not worry about me. I will succeed.

Mada: My guess is yes.

Eliot: Save me buddy. I’m already bleeding to death man.

Brendan: I’m cool either way, I just enjoy reading different people’s interpretations of my character/ability to survive.

Nick: I suspect I will do nothing plot-wise regardless of my fate. Please just leave me somebody to finish the story with on Monday.

Brian: I’m not counting on it.

The group eyed Robert with some concern.

"Ok then...guess we should get goi-"

But before Eliot could finish that sentence, Robert had pulled out a knife and go-to-sleeped him for real, right in the neck, just like he promised he would if he ever went psycho. Committed to the end. The group stood there, mouths agape, speechless.

A dooming silence descended upon the group. Nobody moved as Eliot fell to the ground, tears forming in his eyes as he looked up at the fading paint on Robert’s face. The blood poured out from his neck, dripping down his shoulder blade and coming to rest in a pool by his gasping chest. Eliot lay quiet, eyes blinking, then whimpered suddenly, and the spell was broken. All rushed to his side, crowding him in to comfort his final moments.

All, except two. Robert slashed off his leash with the knife and began to circle the group menacingly, his eyes fixed on a single back. There was purpose in his step, but no one could see that. The roar of the dropped chainsaw allowed his footprints to fall in silence. ‘There will be no more spite,’ he said to himself. ‘It ends here, you bastard; here, I take exactly what is mine.’ With that, Nick turned his head around just in time to see Robert plant the knife deep into the back of Brian, just to the left of his spinal column. Brian fell, face-first, upon Eliot’s.

“Hey look, I lowered both of their ratios,” Robert said with a laugh, but no one could hear him over the screaming. Mada chuckled. Robert gave her one of those chin thrusts that acknowledges appreciation while still asserting dominance.

“Where is Brendan?” Nick said suddenly, lost in the din of chaos.

The two bodies were pulled from each other. Brian, unconscious, was laid face-down while Semas wound a tourniquet out of her gladiator sandals. Eliot lay face-up, coughing, with Mada strewn over him, matching him tear-for-blood-drop.

Eliot whimpered again. His coming end had dawned on him. He began to cry. Brendan’s bandana was tied around his neck.

“I wish,” Eliot choked. “I wish…” he coughed again. “I kind of wish…that…I had.”

“Had what?” Mada said frantically. “I will get you anything.”

“A shirt,” he said feebly. He’d lost over a quart of blood. “It’s freezing, Mada. Hold me.” His lips puckered and he grunted in anticipation.

“Where the hell is a shirt?” Mada said. She looked around frantically. There were few shirts to be found among the group. “There’s no god damned shirts!”

“You can thank Brian for that,” Robert said coolly from the corner of the room, his right leg on the ground and his left leg forming a triangle with the wall he leaned against. Inexplicably he’d found a t-shirt and something to button up partially on top of it. Everything was tucked in sort of halfway, as if done casually and nonchalantly. His aviators were back on and a toothpick danced around his mouth. He looked dangerous again.

All attention shifted to Robert, the homicidal sociopath. Robert, the crazed loner. Robert, the spiteful killer. Robert, the figurehead of survival throughout the journey.

“You’re a monster!” Mada screamed.

“No, Mada, I’m afraid I’m not,” Robert said, casually getting up and strolling across the room as he spoke with occasional hand gestures. “Let’s review, shall we? Was it not I who swore a pact to put someone to sleep by literally stabbing them the moment I went crazy? Was it not also Brian? Was it not also Eliot and Conor?”

“I don’t know!” Mada said. “We have different social groups!”

“Well we did. Ask Brian.” Robert snickered. “Anyway, I’m not your problem, Mada. Your bleeding-out boyfriend is,” he said with a point and an eyebrow gesture. “Neither is Brian. You can thank me for that.” Robert snickered again at his turning-around of the ‘you can thank…’ joke. Robert’s jokes were always good.

“Where’s Brendan?” Nick said again.

“What are you talking about, Robert??” Mada said, exasperated. Her time with her dying lover was short.

“You last saw us at the old chapel,” Robert said. “Brian couldn’t handle my lifestyle. He simply couldn’t. He went insane. He became a dictator, forcing our shirts off at his whim. At rest one night he leashed me, and I’ve been biding my time since. He probably should have taken away my knife.”

At this Mada looked around. Neither Nick nor the new girl were making any move to reprimand Robert. Brian and Eliot were incapacitated. Robert had reassumed his position as leader.

“What do you mean he couldn’t handle your lifestyle?” she asked.

“It’s all a game,” Robert responded. “This is all a game. He couldn’t play.”

“We picked up another,” Robert continued. “Her name is Semas. The poor girl doesn’t speak. We think Brian forced drugs on her; she thinks she’s a warrior princess with Brian as her prince. She’s pretty good with broadswords, though.”

“Ma,” whispered Eliot. His voice was coarse. His lips unpuckered. “Ma.”

Attention shifted again, to the dying Eliot. “I’m sorry,” said Robert as he rushed nonchalantly to his side. “I needed to distract Brian. Knives are shorter than chainsaws. I had to make him drop it first. I tried to aim for a nonlethal area. So, the neck.”

“Ma,” he croaked. “I’m leaving the game. I’m done playing. Take this.” A tiny notebook slipped from his chest pocket into the pool of blood. Mada quickly snatched it up.

“No one…can survive,” Eliot coughed. His eyes were clouding and growing dim. “A knife bite.”

With that he was still. Mada, almost blinded by tears, promised to carry on his memory and thumbed through the notebook.

“It’s a journal,” she said after a minute. “It’s short. ‘…I shot Brendan out of the sky…’ What is this?” she asked, almost pleadingly, before answering her own question. “Oh, God. God, he transcribed his entire acid trip into this notebook.”

“You guys found time for acid?”

“…Birdndan….Chief Illiniwek…Zombie Brian…Conor…” she excerpted. “Knife…knives…‘No one can survive a knife bite.’…You guys, I don’t like this.”

Robert took the journal from Mada, and the remaining group began to read through the contents of the disjointed dream. It was quiet and dark as Robert read the journal like an epitaph or a will; the sun had long since set upon Champaign. Nobody stirred after horrific nightmare after horrific nightmare unfolded. The dream was creepy and haunting, almost prophetic, for the group in its present traumatic state, but it was pure coincidence Eliot had been killed by the knife. It had to be. Besides, Brian was killed by a knife. Conor was already dead. It was simply too unrealistic.

Robert finished. Silence. Everyone was numbed by the recent chaos.

Nick spoke for the third time since arriving at the dorm. “Where. Is. Brendan?”

This time he was heard. All heads turned to face him. One by one, those heads became wide-eyed as an apparently minor fact dawned on them. They had all rescued Brendan at the chapel under the assumption that Nick was dead. They had taken him into the helicopter and brought him to safety. They had traveled with him miles and miles to Champaign. They had become as close with him as friends could be. Not once did Brendan ever mention that Nick was alive. Not once.

“Uh…” stumbled Robert. For once, he was at a loss for words.

“Give me a gun,” demanded Nick. He was cold. Prepared.

The group checked its inventory. Brendan’s machine gun had run out of ammo. Eliot’s was missing. Brian carried a chainsaw and Semas a broadsword. Robert was unarmed but for his stained and rusted knife.

“Here,” Mada said, hands trembling and eyes welling again with tears. She handed him the revolver from the chapel. “There’s one bullet left. Go get him.” With that she slumped down against the wall and stared into nothing.

Nick assumed a military cover position outside Mada’s door. Everyone watched in amazement as the gentle man who once stayed out of the way prepared to put a bullet into his friend. Nick bounced slightly on his heels a couple times while taking a deep breath, and made as if about to spring around the corner and take the life of whatever might be in the room, if anything.

“I’m here, Nick,” said a voice. Nick froze. “Mada’s room. I’ve been listening. You have one shot. Are you calm enough to hit? Are you even cold enough to shoot? Has the weather really changed you so much? A little snow enough to turn a friend into a killer? I’ve been watching, Nick. You homeschooled little prick. Everyone thinks you’re smart. Everyone thinks you’re funny. Intellectual humor? Bah! I play with language barriers, Nick. What game do you play? Quips on social networking media? Distant observations on social trends? Observe me now, Nick!”

Two shots from Eliot’s machine gun blasted through the baseboards and into Nick’s left leg. Immediately Nick fell to the ground, the back of his head just above the new holes in the wall.

“It’s my turn for jokes! I’ve tricked you, Nick. Haven’t you seen my Classic Brian posts about my college classmates? I’m observant too. I observed you drop the car into reverse and hit my leg, wounding me just in time for a zombie outbreak. I observed you steal my idea to radio in help. I observed you abandon me for higher ground when the zombies reached the chapel. And I’m observing you come to terms with your final minute of life. How does the leg feel, Nick? Is it cold? Because it’s damn cold outside, and damn it if it isn’t going to be colder in hell!”

Brendan open fired. Nick rolled to the right behind the cinderblock walls and kicked the revolver in front of the open doorway by accident. A flat ray of sunlight peaked over the ruins of Champaign and slipped through Mada’s window into her room. Brendan peered back momentarily to see the sun one final time. At that moment, Mada sprang up from the wall, rolled across the revolver, and shot Brendan right out of the sky. Right in the back of the head.

Ten minutes passed without a word. Everyone silently hoped that if no one moved, nothing else could go wrong. No one else would perish. The dorm was somber and dead. Nothing stirred.

At long last, Robert stood up from his crouch. He peered around the hallway and touched Nick on the shoulder. He walked over and touched Mada as well. Robert was unused to emotions, and his comforting was awkward and really only helpful due to the direness of the situation.

“Feel better, please,” he said.

After allowing a moment for his request to sink in, Robert reinstated order.  

“Alright, first we’re going to need some shirts. It’s really cold out and we don’t really need to impress anyone, because, Nick, we’re really the only choices Mada and Semas have at this point. And I really don’t have a preference because you’re both beautiful, ladies.” Robert winked.

Mada pulled shirts for her and Semas out of her closet, while Nick scoured the girl’s dorm for something large enough for him. In fulfilling his final wish, Mada found a shirt size women’s medium and slipped it over Eliot’s head and onto his body. It fit perfectly. She covered him with a sheet and knew with confidence that her time for mourning would come eventually.

Nick returned, dressed in large girls’ clothes and snow boots. Robert retook inventory: a machine gun, two knives, a broadsword, a chainsaw, an iPod taken from Brendan’s body, bite serum, a leash, and Brian’s Oakleys. Robert awarded Nick the Oakleys for finally becoming an important character, as well as in apology for shooting his left hand at the chapel. Semas held onto her mysteriously-acquired broadsword, Mada took the machine gun and a knife, Nick took the serum and the other knife, and Robert wielded the chainsaw and the iPod.

Nick went over to the body of Brian to see if there was anything he had carried besides the cool new Oakleys Nick was sporting.

“You know, I never could get into The Band,” Robert said, quietly judging Brendan through his iPod. “And what are all these Grateful Dead CDs? They’re a fucking jam band, all you need is one album and you’ve got their whole sound.”

“Oh crap.” Mada was neurotically rooting through the complicated math books on her bed. “I still have all this homework here I forgot to do. Fuck I need to do this.” She stopped, realizing the opportunity for a rebirth among the ruins. “No. Fuck this. No more homework. I’m done with old Mada.” Robert looked up from the iPod and smiled at her, remembering his own recent renewal. “I’m doing what I want now,” she said. “Starting after a quick nap. I’m really tired.”

“No sleeping. Sleeping is giving in,” said Robert citing indie music. “We need a game plan. Do we stay in Champaign? Is it safe enough here? Is it safe enough anywhere? How are we going to eat if we leave?” He barked his orders with authority, and the group started to come to attention. “We need water. We need ammunition and a sniper rifle for longer distance killing. We’re going to need warmer clothes than this; most of our jeans are ruined and we need coats. Most of all, we need a purpose. We all have a reason to stay alive, but we can’t live like this forever, so we need something to—”

“Uhm, Robert,” interrupted Nick. “I think I found something important.” Kneeling next to Brian, he handed Robert a folded, crinkled, worn scrap of paper.

Robert unfolded it slowly. The crinkling of the paper was the only audible noise. He began to read:

“Brian, this is my fault. I messed up. I caused this, and I can’t turn it off. It’s up to you now. I’m not a monster, though; that’s the worst part. I’m not. I just got carried away. They can be stopped, yes, I swear. Your answers lie in Norman. Go there. Save my face. If I could only take it back…. –Conor”

Robert looked at the others. “PS — In the morning when the sun comes up, you’ll know.”

Robert looked back out the window at the rising sun. For the first time, they had a reason to fight. Finally, a purpose. As Robert began folding the paper back up, a small red dot appeared in his matted, unwashed hair. A shot fired, and Robert slumped to the ground, dead.

Zombie Snowpocalypse Balboa

It was dusk as the crew rolled into Zombana, there clothes tattered and matted with blood. Not their blood of course. The blood of countless zombies that had been laid to waste for standing in their way. Brendan was shirtless; a bandana wrapped around his head. His face was covered in soot and ash from all the stuff he had blown up, just for fun. He carried a massive machine gun attached to a strap thrown over his shoulder to support what would otherwise be the unbearable weight of his instrument of death. Mada was also shirtless because her name spelled backwards is Adam and guys don't need shirts. Plus, she looked real good in that new bra she had bought from the Victoria's Secret across from the Babycrombie she worked at in the mall. That had been just two weeks ago, before all this chaos had been unleashed, but it seemed like another lifetime. Eliot skipped along next to her, desperately attempting to hold her hand without making it weird. He was wearing Birkenstocks and his Green Bay shorts, and, of course, no shirt.

It was freezing out, they all knew, but when you're in college you sometimes have to sacrifice comfort and logic in order to look your best. And these three were no exception to the rule. Eliot had even gone so far as to draw a 6-pack on his abdomen with Sharpie. Needless to say the lady zombies had been all over him since they had started their journey, and the guy zombies had all been trying to kill him out of what he deemed must be sheer jealous rage. What assholes.

"Well," said Brendan, finally breaking the silence. "We're here at last..." (Brendan had grown rather quiet and somber since being forced to kill the zombified Dolores O'Riordan along the way).

Eliot, ever the voice of reason, asked "So what do we now? I guess we should really have come up with a game plan before getting here..."

"Well, you guys are boring. I'm gonna go back to my room and watch a movie or something. See ya later, fellas," drawled Mada in an inexplicable southern twang.

The boys, after exchanging a look of confusion and utter defeat, scrambled to catch up with her. Even though she was walking, it took them like 5 minutes to finally reunite with her, due to her crazy and superhuman agility. "Woah, I didn't say you guys were allowed to join me, but whatever. My room is right around the corner," said Mada.

Several minutes later they were at the front door of the building. "AW SHIT. I forgot my keycard!" Mada exclaimed. But before she had even finished her sexy whining, Brendan had shock-and-awed the door off its hinges with one badass kick. After taking a moment to conceal how obviously impressed and turned on she was by this show of alphamaleism, the trio made their way inside and up to Mada's floor. About halfway down the hallway, though, Mada stopped short.

"What is it Mada? What's wrong?!?!" squeaked Eliot nervously.
"Oh nothing. But check this out. This fire alarm case is so fun to play with and when you push it this way -"

The plastic casing that had shielded the fire alarm from unintentionally deployment clattered to the ground, and as she scrambled to pick it up in hopes that nobody would notice her clumsiness (too late), she accidentally set off the fire alarm (how ironic).

"Ah...ah....ah..." stuttered Mada, terror etched on her face. The alarms were blaring. Surely every zombie in a mile radius would hear this... Brendan, quickly coming to the same realization, swept Mada up with one arm and grabbed the baffled Eliot by the scruff with the other, swiftly dragging them to the relative safety of Mada's conveniently unlocked room.

"I don't get it, guys! What's the big deal?" whined Eliot cluelessly.

After barricading the door, Brendan stood stoically in the center of the room, his gun aimed, ready to defend his friends with his life. Several minutes past, the tension palpable. And all the while, Eliot cowered in the corner, whilst Mada bounced on her bed and ran around the room restlessly. And then they heard it. The moaning of zombies. It was distant at first, but grew louder and louder as the horde grew nearer. The door started to shake, and then to splinter. A zombie hand burst through, and then another and another. Brendan opened fire.

The carnage was absolute. Zombie parts flew in all directions as the guerilla warrior unflinchingly mowed them down. Rank after rank of zombie fell, and it was starting to look like they may win this one after all. Brendan allowed himself a small, rare smile. But as if that had jinxed them, the sound of bullets thudding into the undead was suddenly replaced by a dull whirring and a click-click-click. He had run out of ammo...

Not knowing what to do now, Brendan began to panic. He threw down the gun that was now all but useless to him. His friends looked to their unspoken leader for advice, but he had none to give. He had failed them. His eyes filled with tears as he slumped against the far wall. This was it. There was nothing he could do.

Then all of a sudden, a noise rang out, and the zombies started to draw away from the door. Brendan couldn't put his finger on it at first. It sounded like...a chain saw! Someone else out there was alive and had come to their rescue! He dared to peek his head out of what remained of the doorway, and what he saw took his breath away/confused the shit out of him. There, in the hallway, an epic battle was being fought. There were four humans. One of them he instantly recognized as Classic Brian himself! In all of his shirtless glory, his ridiculously ripped abdomen was like a beacon of hope to the living. He wore jeans that were ripped and tattered and bright blue shoes that were inexplicably spotless and oh-so-cool looking. He was rocking the most badass pair of Oakley's ever to grace the earth. In his hands was a chain saw, just like Brendan had suspected, and Brian used it like it was an extension of his body. Countless zombies fell before him. Back to back with him fought the most beautiful creature Brendan had ever laid eyes on. She had gorgeous blonde hair and the prettiest face. She carried herself with such elegance and grace, even whilst cutting zombies to shreds with her broadsword. And in the corner, behind all the mayhem, Brendan could just make out who he assumed to be Nick, holding a leash which led to Robert's neck, who was obviously on all fours. Wait, what?!? Weren't they both supposed to be dead or zombified? And why the hell was Robert on a leash?! Over the screaming and the roar of the chain saw's blade, Brendan could swear he heard Nick critiquing Brian's form.

When the violence had ended, Brendan, Eliot, and Mada sheepishly emerged from the room.

"You got some splainin' to do, Brian!" Mada called out diplomatically.

The two saviors and their followers approached the timid trio with a swagger that could only be described as notoriously fly. Then all of a sudden, Mada squealed and nearly fainted, and Eliot let out a "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" They had realized who the mysterious and sexy warrior was. It was Semas Ailuj.

"Isn't she pretty, guys?" inquired Brian cooly between making out with her and yanking Robert's leash. "I found her on Green street. She took out the entire Pike pledge class. It was incredible. Now we're in love."

Mada glowered with envy whilst Eliot was torn between objecting to this latest development and comforting Mada with what he knew to be half-assed lies about how she was better than Semas Ailuj could ever be. He went with the latter, but was instantly shot down by Mada's untrusting rage.

"Ok, that's great," Brendan interjected. "Now please explain the whole Robert and Nick thing to me."

"Oh right. Well that's simple enough. When you guys left us to our meaningless sacrifice so that you could escape, we easily defeated the zombies and discovered Nick was very much alive and pretty pissed at us for ditching him. It turns out he can't die or be zombified because he's a mean robot. They aren't susceptible to either of those things. And as for Robert, he had obviously lost his mind to spite and gone psycho, but I didn't wanna kill him. He is my friend after all. So I just put him on this chain and brought him with. He's been really cooperative about it, strangely enough. I think it's because he knows I expected him not to be."

The group eyed Robert with some concern.

"Ok then...guess we should get goi-"

But before Eliot could finish that sentence, Robert had pulled out a knife and go-to-sleeped him for real, right in the neck, to death, just like he promised he would if he ever went psycho. Committed to the end. The group stood there, mouths agape, speechless.

-Classic

Conor - Zombie Snowpocalypse Part IV: The Spiral Collapses

Robert turned his back to the rest of the pack, and stood upright. He seemed taller than normal. As Eliot and Mada started to dash away, Brian hesitated. He looked back at Robert, then at his two remaining friends. He could clearly hear the terrible shuffle of the zombie horde that was approaching their position. Somebody needed to stay. Robert put on sunglasses. Brian looked back at the other two. As they ran, Eliot fell over purposefully in a sad attempt to get more attention from Mada. Brian knew it was up to him. He caught Eliot's eye, and Eliot knew what was up. Eliot, being the only guy left at this point, was definitely fine with this.

Brian ran back to Robert and picked up a shotgun leaning on the west wall. He picked it up and dramatically cocked it. It became terribly obvious that both men were just playing a part. The pair had horribly overestimated the speed of the zombies and were left standing there in awkward silence. Brian searched for something to talk about, but Robert did not respond to his many attempts at conversation. It seemed that Robert was determined to just wear his aviators, point his guns, and stare at the doorway the zombies were about to come through.

Or at least they thought they were about to come through. Minutes passed, and the moaning of the zombies become slightly louder, but the whole situation was still pretty embarrassing.

"Yo, uh, Robert, do you think we should just head up there and join Mada and Eliot? I think... I think we're good on the whole zombie thing. We can even tell them we killed a bunch of them, but I don't really see any reason we shouldn't escape with them if-"

"It seems like you're giving up, Brian."

"No, it's just that it's pretty damn clear that-"

"It seems to me like you're giving up."

Brian opened and closed his mouth several times before recognizing there was no way to win. They could hear the helicopter land on the rooftop and leave. Brian sighed.

27 minutes later the zombie horde showed up and inexplicably numbered in the hundreds. This was Roberts element. This was what he was born to do. Brian couldn't understand it. The two pistols in his hands rang out with a the clarity of a bell, every shot louder and more deafening than the last. Every bullet buried itself in the forehead of a zombie, forever quieting his hunt for human flesh. Every gunshot lit up Robert's face dramatically. His beard that he had triumphantly started to grow since his girlfriend had died on the first day of the outbreak caught the light beautifully, but could not hide the crazy grin on his face. Robert started to laugh.

Brian looked back at the horde. It wasn't making any ground, really. There was only one small doorway in, and it was a pretty narrow hallway.

"Robert! Hey Robert!" Brian shouted.

"PRETTY BUSY KILLING ZOMBIES BRO."

"Yeah, yeah good work." Brian shouted back. "Hey I was just thinking that this is totally doable. As long as we just make sure that we alternate reloading so that one person is picking them off at all times, they shouldn't really even get all that close to us."

Robert laughed, and immediately started reloading whenever Brian was reloading out of spite. Brian didn't notice this for a while, and by the time the zombies were almost on top of them. The pair was forced to retreat up the staircase their more fortunate, more logical friends had used to escape to the roof. Brian found a couple of extremely heavy bookcases on the roof (?) that he used to block the door, but Robert, spitefully, set fire to them. Brian sighed. Brian started calling Mada and Eliot to see if they could get the helicopter to come back for them, but Robert stole and smashed Brian's phone, and then his own. Brian sighed.

The doors to the roof burst open and Brian whipped around, training his shotgun at the entry, and was surprised to see Nick standing there, looking worse for wear, but very much alive.

"Nick! We thought you were dead!" Brian shouted. For the first time since being left alone with Robert who seemed to be quickly developing sociopathic tendencies, Brian felt alive. He was filled with hope.

"What? No, I just had to abandon the room where I could broadcast everything because zombies came in. Or haven't you heard? There are zombies pretty much everywhere. I think it's due to the zombie outbreak."

"Yeah, well...."

"Sorry, honestly I'm just a little hurt you guys didn't even, like, check. Did you just turn around when you heard me shout once on the radio?"

"You screamed, several times, and then you didn't broadcast anymore."

"So yes is what you're saying. Yes, you didn't even bother to see if your friend Nick needed any help. I don't know if I mentioned all the zombies running around. It was just me and a bunch of zombies. It would've been cool if you guys had helped. Whatever. Have I missed the helicopter?"

"... Yeah, yeah it's gone. Mada and Eliot got on it, Brian and I stayed to buy them some time."

"That seems unnecessary."

"It was unnecessary."

"Well I'll just try calling them real quick." Nick said while getting his cell phone out of his pocket. "In hindsight I might be slightly to blame for you guys not coming to get me. I should have texted you guys that I was alive."

Before Nick could make the call, Robert shot Nick's hand and then shot the dropped cell phone. Robert laughed. Brian sighed. Nick bled.

There was more awkward silence as they just stood around for a while. Zombie moans could be heard as the horde clumsily tried to climb the stairs up to the rooftop, but it was obvious they wouldn't make it all the way up for an hour or so at least.

Zombie Snowpocalypse Part III: Breaking the Ice

by Brendan Cavanagh

Blackness.

Brief shots of the faces of each member of the Classic Brian team fade in and out of view.  Faint screams are heard.  Scenes from the previous two movies similarly fade in and out in silence- Zombie Brian and Zombie Chief Illiniwek simultaneously sprinting in slow motion...a bullet-ridden Birdndan (half-Brendan, half-bird) somersaulting into a field from the skies...the remains of Eliot and Mada's cannibalistic frenzy- what looks like a small pile of ground meat with an outstretched hand, its extended fingers positioned in the style of a perfect Gb dim chord...

"Eliot."

(slap)

"Eliot!"

(slap)

"Eliot, wake up, damn it!"

With one final powerful backhand, Brendan managed to revive Eliot from his feverish slumber.  Eliot slowly regained consciousness and struggling, was able to sit upright and face Brendan and Mada.  Eliot saw the concerned, loving look in Mada's tear-strewn eyes and knew immediately something had gone wrong.  Brendan saw that look, too.  He felt awkward continually being involved in situations like this.  It was always weird to be around those two.

"What happened?"  he asked hastily.  "How are you alive, Brendan?  I shot you out of the sky the other day!"

Brendan and Mada exchanged quick looks of bemused surprise and smirked.  Brendan turned back to face Eliot, who by now had pulled out his phone to check something.

"Eliot, if you're looking for NFL updates again, I'm going to have to take your phone away from you...though I don't know why you still have it.  The zombie outbreak was worse than we thought.  It's already broken out of the U.S. and into surrounding countries.  Eliot, I'm sorry, but...there isn't going to be a Super Bowl.  The Green Bay Packers have nothing left but a couple third string tackles.  They're zombies though.  You've been out of it ever since we ran into Cory.  Do you remember when he gave us that 'serum?'"

"Of course," Eliot replied.  "That was right before we moved on and fought those zombie cows...and you turned into a bird and I killed you!...and we went back to U of I and I fought off Chief Illiniwek and Zombie Brian...and Mada killed Conor with a katana...and we ate him...."  His voice began to fade as he realized how cartoonish and overtly metaphoric it all seemed now in hindsight.

"Eliot, you tripped balls," Brendan interjected with a laugh.  "Cory forgot that he put a bunch of acid in his PBR.  You lost it, man!  I think you must have had too much for your build- the rest of us just laid on tree branches and listened to Animal Collective for a few hours."

"So...so none of that actually happened?  Eliot couldn't believe it.  "But it all seemed so real..."

 "Hey man, don't worry about it.  At least you didn't ride off naked on a fixed-gear bicycle like Cory did.  It's just the three of us now.  But I'm glad you're better.  We couldn't go on without you."  Brendan placed his hand on Eliot's shoulder and the two shared a knowing look.  They both knew how much they needed each other in these desperate times.

"When you two queers are done having a moment, maybe you'd like to take a look up there."  They turned to see Mada pointing at the sun, which until now had remained invisible for a number of weeks.  As they looked around them, they realized the layers of ice on the trees and ground, once inches thick, were beginning to melt.  With exclamations of relief, the three exchanged high fives and hugs.  When it came time for Eliot and Mada to share their joy, they stopped and stared intently into each others' eyes.

"I'm really glad you were there for me.  I...I don't know how I could face these zombies and bitter temperatures without you."  Mada could tell Eliot wasn't feigning appreciation for her like he normally would.

She responded to his words with a hint of teeth and said, "Yeah you're pretty useless on your own."  She chuckled.

Eliot guffawed at her joke perhaps a little louder than he should have, looked down at his feet and then back to Mada, and uttered a somewhat lame, "Yeah."

Brendan's eyes darted back and forth.  He wasn't sure the other two realized he was still present.  This was, without a doubt, the most awkward situation in which he had ever been involved.  He wanted to clear his throat, or even leave them alone- somehow break the unbelievably tortuous tension, but he was frozen on the spot in awe of what transpired next.

Eliot closed his eyes and craned his head just slightly to the side as if to signal that he was going to kiss Mada, finally manifesting the unspoken attraction between the two, though he stood no less than three feet away from her.  She instantly picked up on his intentions though, and began to lean in to kiss him.  It was a far lean though, being three feet away.  As her lips sailed slowly towards his, Eliot began sort of wetly writhing his lips in a mixture of anticipation and expectation- Brendan had a feeling that Eliot thought that he was already kissing Mada.  She soon found her way there though, and the two began to make strange, albeit passionate grunting sounds.  Their feet planted firmly on the ground, their arms held tight to their sides, the two kissed for several minutes, all the while still grunting, with the occasional intermittent "Yeah" from Eliot.  Brendan knew this moment was a special one, for the film-goers and for the other two, but he couldn't help but wonder if either of them had ever been kissed before.

He soon could take no more of this awkward situation, so he pointed his gun towards the horizon and fired a couple rounds.  "Oh sorry guys, I thought I just saw a zombie.  My bad.  We should probably get going before it gets too late."  At this, Eliot and Mada promptly ended their make out session and joined him on the now muddy road.  Eliot held back for a moment to walk beside his buddy, letting Mada go ahead without him.

"Brendan.  Hey.  Mada and I just had sex."  Brendan could see the enthusiastic naivete and pride in Eliot's countenance and didn't have the heart to correct him.  He gave Eliot a halfhearted pat on the back and said, "Congratulations, man.  I'm real proud of you."  He then proceeded to roll his eyes upon turning away, thoroughly aware of the fact that the fate of the three remaining members of the Classic Brian team was in his hands now.  His thoughts wandered and soon settled upon his recently brief foray into anti-zombie gang life back in Springfield, and he began to get overly sentimental.

Damn, he thought, I never should have left those guys for this.  I mean, they were all essentially bandwagon-jumpers the way they so conventionally killed those zombies and listened to Dave Matthews Band.  And I was always unhappy, but...I sort of miss being unhappy in Springfield.

But he trudged on nonetheless.  Eliot and Mada may have been sexually misguided, but they were his good friends, and he knew he was safe as long as he remained with them.

Just as he started to get sentimental about his current situation, a blood-curdling, high-pitched scream broke out ahead.  It was Eliot.  He was jumping up and down and waving frantically towards a patch of nearby woods, from which an enormous pack of zombies emerged.  He grabbed Mada's hand and placed it in his, and they and Brendan fled from the mob down the road into a quaint, dilapidated chapel.  Brendan left Eliot and Mada to barricade all points of entry while he scaled the adjacent bell tower, at the top of which he would hole up and pick off the advancing horde.

The zombies quickly surrounded the chapel in snarling and drooling unison.  Brendan noted how similar this situation was to his daily experiences in the cafeteria at his old high school.  He placed the earphones of his iPod in his ears, turned on "Gimme Shelter" to get him pumped, picked up his sniper rifle and took aim.  He singled out a rather surly looking adolescent pounding on the frail stained glass.  He located the zombie's head in his cross hairs.  Through the scope he could see the boy was wearing blue and orange braces, probably a fan of the Illini.  He took aim and muttered, "Smile, you son of a bitch" before blowing the boy's head clean off his body.  A few of the surrounding zombies lunged at the headless corpse and fought over the meatiest bits.  Brendan saw one fending off another from its meal with a severed hand.  Locating the second zombie in his sights, Brendan said, "Need a hand?" and shot him in the head.  For good measure, he decided he should kill the first zombie, who was now triumphantly pounding his chest while also eating the hand he had just used to beat off his friend.  "You can't always get what you want," said Brendan (he was on a Rolling Stones kick) before he shot the zombie in the head.

Meanwhile, Eliot and Mada were having less success.  They had two bullets left in their sole revolver and tens of zombies thrusting their hands and heads through the makeshift barricades.  Eliot turned to Mada with tears in his eyes.  "Mada," he said solemnly, "I don't think we're gonna make it like this.  There's no way Brendan can take out all these zombies, and they're gonna break in here anyway and kill us.  I think we should-"

"No!  Eliot, I won't let you," interjected Mada.  "I won't let you shoot yourself.  I love you too much to have to watch that happen.  I'll...I'll do it first.  That way I don't have to see your beautiful brains spurt out of the side of your skull and onto this organ."

"No!  Mada, no, that's not what I was going to say at all," replied Eliot.  "No, I was going to suggest we go through that door and join Brendan up in the bell tower.  He's got more ammo.  And possibly grenades."

"Oh," replied Mada.  "Yeah that's a good idea."

And the pair of them ascended the adjacent bell tower, where they found Brendan pretending his rifle was a guitar, jamming out to some Bob Dylan song.  They could tell it was Bob Dylan because the sound of harmonica was blasting from his ears.  He clearly did not hear them enter the room, what with his hearing impairment.  They watched for a couple minutes as he alternated air-guitaring and picking off zombies, repeatedly uttering the cheesiest puns every time he successfully killed one.  For instance, after he blew one's head off, he pompously yelled out, "You may have been an A student in life, but as a zombie, you got NO BRAINS! AHAHAHAHA!"

Eventually, Eliot and Mada could take no more of this low form of humor, so they cautiously approached their friend and tapped him on the shoulder to signal his attention.  Shocked by the appearance of his friends, Brendan tripped over his iPod cord and accidentally dropped his rifle out the window, but not before it went off and shot Eliot in the foot.  Mada screamed and rushed to see what she could do about to stop the blood.  Fighting back tears, she turned to Brendan and yelled accusingly, "You idiot!  Look what you did!"

Eliot winced as she took his shoe and sock off his injured foot.  He looked up at Brendan, and then looked back to Mada and said calmly, "It's alright Ma, I'm only bleeding."  Brendan, in actuality the only person in that bell tower who knew that that was the title of a Bob Dylan song, began to laugh raucously.  He was joined by Eliot, who in fact didn't realize he just made a great reference, but he laughed uproariously anyway.  It turns out that he thought now, as he broke the tension between his friends, was the appropriate time to break out his pet name for his new unspoken girlfriend.

"Well, I guess we're screwed now guys,"  said Brendan rather gravely after he finished laughing.  He looked out at the setting sun in deep contemplation.  He realized this was the first sunset he had seen in weeks.  Although the sun was fading out of view, he knew that he could depend on seeing it again in only a few hours.  Unfortunately he couldn't say the same for his Classic Brian brethren.  He thought of each of his fallen comrades: Conor- His Friday murder by Mada's hand really set the tone for the weekend.  Nick, who's usually there to pull things together after the weekend, died tragically the following Monday.  Then there was that one weekend when Brian and Robert decided to double team a pack of advancing zombies, sacrificing themselves to save the others.  Brendan would miss them.  But sooner rather than later, it seemed, he and the other two survivors would probably meet similar demises.

He turned around and watched Mada lovingly tend to Eliot.  It was comforting to know there was still some humanity left in a world driven upside down by zombies and a freak ice storm.  Yet, what place did love have in this world?  It was useless!  Love would never defeat these zombies.  They may be stupid, but there was simply too many of them to even hope for survival.  Brendan picked up Eliot's revolver which lay on the floor next to him and check its contents.  Two bullets.  Just enough.  He cocked the gun and pointed it at his friends.

"Thursdays were never good for me."

But just before he could pull the trigger, Mada sprung off the ground like a cat and attached herself to Brendan's arm, where she bit him fiercely.  Howling in pain, he dropped the gun on the floor and struggled with Mada.  She overtook him and  he began to tip over the edge.  He could rely on his exceptional balance no longer, and his friends weren't going to help him, and he tipped over backwards.  Luckily his hand swiped out and caught hold of the bell's clapper, and he clung to it with all his might.

"What do you think you were doing?!" screamed Mada, who had taken control of the revolver and was now pointing it at the rope suspending the bell in the air.  "I could shoot this rope right now and you and the bell would come crashing down the tower."

Brendan, scared back to his senses after nearly dying, looked incredulously at Mada.  "Mada, that's it!  There's not too many of them left.  We wait til they crowd in here and try to climb the ladder.  When they do, we shoot the rope and it crushes them!  I'm sorry I tried to kill you guys.  I don't know what I was thinking.  I became delirious with hopelessness.  I just didn't know how to resolve our situation.  I'm sorry!  I'm sorry!"  He began to sob.

Eliot reached out and touched Mada's leg.  "Ma, it's okay.  He just made a mistake.  Let's get him back to safety."

At this, Mada lowered the revolver and put her hand out to grab Brendan's.  He caught hold, lunged and managed to get back across safely.  There he and the others waited for another hour, when the zombies broke through the barricades in the chapel and made their way to the connected bell tower.  Once they crashed through the door and entered the tower, a pair of them started attempting to climb the ladder.  At this moment, Mada shot the rope and the bell fell to the ground with a resonating clang, crushing every zombie under it.

Eliot, Mada and Brendan made their way down the ladder and walked into the chapel, which was torn apart by the bloodthirsty zombies.  As Brendan aided a hobbling Eliot, Mada sprinted over to the organ and proclaimed that she knew how to play Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" on the piano, but she could probably play it on the organ because how difficult of a transition could it be?  After her impromptu recital, Eliot looked at both his friends and said cautiously he knew the right hand's chords for the first verse of Journey's "Don't Stop Believing," so their departure was delayed another few minutes as they belted out the lyrics together and decided that the song really was very good, despite its ubiquitous nature and cheesiness.  Not to be outdone before they left, Brendan sat down to casually play Pachabel's "Canon in D."  But the other two had already played and they pretended to listen for a little bit before they decided to start making their way to the door.  Brendan yelled, "Guys, this is the good part!"  He kept playing and said to himself, "I'm definitely finishing this song," but halfway through the "good part" he felt like the other two weren't going to wait for him so he got up and joined them outside.

The sky was turning a faint gray-blue, signaling an all-too-rare sunrise, once Brendan caught up with the other two.  Through the sparse fog he could make out a sign that said "Champaign-Urbana 10 miles."  He didn't know what "Chambana" or as people were referring to it these days, "Zombana," held in store for the three of them, but he was excited at the prospect of starting over and maybe living one single day without any stress.  He looked at Eliot, who walked with his arm around Mada.  Her head rested on his shoulder and her hand was placed in his back pocket.  Brendan hoped there were some cute single, college girls there- living ones, that is.  Also a good sandwich place.

CREDITS.