“This world is my own personalized utopia, in a sense.”
“Mmm.”
“Here, no one treats me like I’m missing a few screws. On the contrary, people seem to respect my opinion—you, Shino, Uemura, and Shiiko, too. It’s been such a blast. Life finally feels worth living.” Although Otoha’s delivery was as flat as ever, I knew the words came straight from the heart, and they hit a little too close to home. “But all things come and go.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s not commonly touched upon in zombie media, but zombies, regardless of their origins, will inevitably rot away into nothing. So long as their numbers grow faster than human reproduction rates, they’ll go extinct sooner or later. There’s no future for this world. It’s doomed either way.”
“Makes sense.”
How could I forget to ask myself that one extremely fundamental question: what is a zombie? According to Otoha, there are all kinds of real-life examples of one living thing taking over another.
For example, there’s a worm that infects the mind and body of a snail, its intermediary host, so that it can force the snail to crawl out in the open and get eaten by a bird, which is its definitive host. Then, the worm breeds in the bird’s guts, thereby propagating its species. The host snail can’t tolerate heat and prefers venturing out at night, but the worm sends it out into the daylight and makes the eyestalks pulsate to attract birds.
It’s a perfectly understandable parasitic strategy honed through the process of evolution.
However, if we assume that a virus is to blame for the zombie outbreak, it’s an incredibly inefficient strategy in terms of long-term survival. With its abnormal infection rate, it’s bound to run out of host bodies eventually, bringing about its own eventual demise.
How would such an absurd virus even come to be in the first place? Or maybe it’s not a virus, but rather some kind of cancer cell?
Cancer cells, much like parasites, kill themselves and the host, but there’s an important distinction to be made between the two: the former isn’t a result of a parasitic strategy developing over time. Cancer is simply a gene mutation causing unchecked cell growth. In other words, cancer is not contagious; even I know as much.
Man, I really don’t get it. Why did zombies appear when they did, and how did they spread at such ludicrous speeds? Why is it that these terrifying monsters are able to bring an end to humanity and yet they can’t even survive themselves?
Where’s the logic? Is there even any?
“In conclusion,” Otoha said, “zombies are better off on the big screen, where they belong.”
“Took you long enough.”
Wait, when did she have time to arrive at that conclusion?
“Sometimes a hobby should stay a hobby.”
Hear it all the time.
“Can’t expect any new zombie movies to come out at this rate either.”
“Indeed.”
In a way, we’re kind of living in our own zombie flick. There’s just no end credits in sight.
“So, Otoha, I’ve been meaning to ask you something for the longest time now. How did you get into zombies in the first place?”
So into it, in fact, that even her family kept their distance.
“What’s it to you?” she asked sharply.
“I just want to get to know you a little better, that’s all.”
People have their own reasons for liking things, and sometimes they just don’t feel like talking about it. Otoha’s no exception. She must’ve been through her fair share of difficult experiences, so maybe forcing her to cough them back up wouldn’t be very kind of me. But, I mean, we’re partners.
Partners talk to each other, make sure they’re okay... and if not, they lend a helping hand. Helping Otoha helps me as much as it does her.
“It’s not like you just woke up one day with the need to eat, sleep, and breathe zombies, yeah? If you don’t wanna talk about it, I’m cool with that, though.”
Otoha stayed silent, her face still turned toward the dark. She kept the act up for a solid three minutes before finally giving in to boredom. “The thing I find fascinating about zombies is that they’re dead, but not really.”
“Oh?”
“Just like I used to be.”
Used to be a... zombie? What else could she mean by that?
“I used to be... indifferent to life, let’s say.”
“I can see that.”
Just look at how little she cares about anything that doesn’t involve zombies.
“My dad took me to see my first ever movie: a zombie movie, of course. It left a lasting impression on me.”
“Quite the character, huh?”
For most people, that kind of thing would’ve happened around kindergarten or maybe early elementary school. What kind of dad takes his prepubescent daughter to a zombie movie?
“It was during the holidays, so virtually every other film was sold out. We didn’t have much of a choice.”
“I see.”
“One of the characters was this little girl who was indifferent to life, much like me. She’d constantly grumble about how life was meaningless, how she didn’t care about dying, something to that effect. That all changed when she ran into a zombie. After that, her lust for life was formidable.”
“Sounds about right.”
“But in the end, she turned anyway.”
“I should’ve known.”
The scriptwriter clearly wasn’t pulling any punches.
“Normally, you die and that’s the end of it, but she was cursed to roam the streets as the very thing she hated most: a zombie.” Otoha’s face was riddled with grief and melancholy. “I realized that being dead but not really is a horrifying thing. That’s when it hit me. Wouldn’t being alive but not really be just as scary, if not even more so?”
Living life—if you can even call it that—when you’re dead inside doesn’t sound the least bit fulfilling, and an unfulfilling life inevitably leads to regret in the grave. How ironic that the ones who are so quick to reject life lust for it more than anyone else.
“I thought, ‘Am I really any different from a zombie?’”
“Deep,” I said half-jokingly to lighten the mood a little. “Gaining perspective from a zombie movie... Well, I’ll be.”
Classic Otoha, I thought to myself, completely convinced there was nowhere for the conversation to go from there.
“Have you heard of Cotard’s delusion?” Otoha asked, seemingly unfazed.
“Uh, say what?”
“It’s a rare condition that makes you believe you’re dead.”
“That’s an actual thing?”
The more you know.
“In my case, it might not necessarily be Cotard’s per se, but I’ve always felt like I don’t really exist. Not quite dead yet not quite alive, like I’m drifting between the two extremes.”
“Wow.”
“Which is why,” Otoha said, side-eyeing me, “that one line you delivered to Shino as you tried convincing her to shoot her dad made me feel... happy.”
“How so?”
“I realized that I’d found someone who thinks like I do.”
“What do mean by—oh, yeah, I see.”
“The man’s suffered enough. Let’s put an end to his misery.” She probably means this one.
“Wait... you heard all that?!”
Wasn’t I whispering in Shino’s ear? How did she pick that up?
I hadn’t been trying to get some deep point across; it was just a pep talk. Still, I decided to keep that little detail to myself.
“It’s either life or death, one or the other; skirting the line will make everyone involved miserable. The dead deserve their rest, and the living deserve to live their lives to the fullest. That’s my guiding philosophy, shaped entirely by my very own bible—zombie movies.”
“Zombie movies, the ultimate moral compass.” Despite my sarcasm, I pretty much agreed with her.
“I want past me to know what it feels like to be whole.”
“Same here, actually.”
“Which is why I want to reset the world.”
Although we’d always pretended to engage in our hobbies without a single care in the world, there was this lingering sense of inadequacy and guilt that came with being different from other people. Normal people.
We had never attempted to argue or persuade anyone; instead, we had just retreated back into our little bubbles, telling ourselves that they were different from us, that they wouldn’t understand.
And now here we were, out on a mission to save the world using the skills we’d built up all thanks to said hobbies.
If I’d known how things were gonna turn out, I would’ve gone up to my bullies and said, “Yeah, I’m into VRFPS games, so what?” or “Quit being so close-minded and give it a fair try. You never know.” I’m getting giddy just thinking about it.
“I think we’re similar in that regard. As a diehard VRFPS enthusiast, I received my fair share of ‘witty’ remarks. ‘You think war is fun?’ and that kind of stuff. But look at me now.”
Here I am, alive and kickin’.
“Maybe you’re not the only one everyone should look out for.”
I might be the one who turns on you at the very end.
“Hey, Hiroaki,” Otoha said gently, her tone sympathetic, “don’t do anything stupid.”
“Says you,” I shot back with a wry smile.