The Early Days Of The Zombie Apocalypse [FICTOID]

The zombie buffalo bounced off the side of the Eiffel Tower, making a pleasant bong-bong-bong sound as it struck girders on its way down.

It hit the ground with an awful splat, rotting green entrails flying everywhere.

“How did a zombie buffalo get all the way up here?” the American tourist asked.

The French poet shrugged.

The Zombie Apocalypse caught the City of Lights by surprise.  It struck first at the zoon then spread to the four main city cemeteries -- Père-Lachaise, Montmartre, Passy, Montparnasse.

Far below them, the American tourist and the French poet could see among the sycamore trees zombie lions and tigers and bears shuffling along with the zombies of famous French citizens.  

“I killed Emile Zola,” the poet said.  “Well, not actually ‘killed’ him, he was already dead, after all.

“But I did decapitate him, so that stopped him.”

The American tourist took out an envelope.  It read:  Open In Case Of Zombie Apocalypse.

“Did you receive one of these?” she asked.

“Oui.”  The poet took out his envelope.  Identical to hers, it read:  Ouvert En Cas D’apocalypse Zombie.

A zombie raven swooped down at the poet.  The American tourist swatted it with her tennis racket.  The zombie raven exploded in a spray of gore and feathers.

Below them, nuns on motorcycles roared through the streets of Paris, screaming joyously like Valkyries:  They’d been preparing for this all their lives.

Swinging swords and axes, they decapitated zombie French academics and zombie zoo animals with gleeful abandon.  Two of them stood up in their motorcycle sidecars, stretched a chain between them, and decapitated a zombie giraffe, its head falling into a tulip bed.

“We are to get the motherboard of the computer in the tower’s restaurant and take it to the Académie des Sciences,” said the poet.

The moon reflected off the Seine.

It would be a long war.

© Buzz Dixon