“So what if you die…and get up…and like, walk.”

I looked at Kiva, who stared blankly at her seemingly useless gun. It was more or less a zombie apocalypse(More. Defiantly more.), and yet, for some reason, a small section of our group don’t do anything. Ever. Last week, actually, I was talking to my brother about the latest episode of Law and Order:Brain Eaters (It’s just a bunch of hipster filmmakers shooting (In both the literal, and figurative sense), and some zombie bit his face off. Just, bit his face off, straight up. It was a terrible sight, my brother walking around with no face. I raised my shotgun, tears in my eyes, and prepared to shoot the man that saved my a** more times then I could count, and then he explained it to me:

Turns out, the zombie technically didn’t infect him, just bit off his face. But, since he didn’t have lips, it sounded more like “Blargy be-blarb scoopity doo-whappa doo”, but I got the basic deal. I happen to speak Bill Cosby, don’t question it. So, I lowered the gun, happy to have a brother still-despite the lack of face-and then some Irish reverend who lost his faith just shot him in the head. Repeatedly.

As strange as it may seem, in this new world you only get to kick zombie a** if you’re a witty soldier, witty British person, Australian, Black, a hot chick, or a brooding guy with a dark past. Whose also hot. Well, I’m just witty, Kiva’s not black enough, and Sam is really just comic relief.

So we stand in the background as our group gets smaller and smaller, the leaders, and the lovers, and the attractive people are killed by zombies in the most dramatic ways possible. There were others of us, supporting characters with simple motives. Last week Tim was left behind as we escaped, his shtick was trying to find his wife, or was it kids? Sam says he remembers saying he was trying to find his dog, but that doesn’t matter. He got thrown off a bridge and eaten by a shark, or a bunch of zombies who metamorphosis-ized into something that looked like a shark.

Our leader just turned into a zombie. Turns out he was hiding a zombie bite to protect his whiny daughter. Kiva wouldn’t shoot, and Sam’s a lousy shot, so I had to shoot him. I got his head in one shot, which surprised me greatly. The moment that pretentious b****** fell to the ground, I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders.

I felt free.

I felt real.

I have to go now, Sam brought the plane around-for a lousy shot he sure knows how to steer a plane. Kiva says I should leave this here, for others like us. So, for all the side characters, the people stuck in the background while the important characters trade witty banter that’s less then witty, take hope from this, and remember:

You are a person.