For those who don’t know me well, here’s a fun fact. I’m completely OBSESSED with the idea of a Zombie Apocalypse. I’m not sure when this obsession started, but thinking about it has grown to an unhealthy pastime, one I spend way too much of my day dwelling on.
I remember when that show The Walking Dead first debuted—I couldn’t get enough of it! Like everyone else who watched, I found myself commenting multiple times during an episode about how dumb someone was being and how much better I would do if I were in that situation. Especially anytime Andrea, the ditzy blonde character in the show that was always making the worst decisions imaginable, made an appearance (I mean, really, how did she survive as long as she did?).
Anywho, this obsession for watching zombies turned into talking about zombies, reading about zombies, and listening to songs about zombies (like my favorite one below).
To eventually, creating zombies.
So when a few friends of mine, the Lowmans, opened an indoor paintball experience called ZombieBlast and invited me to be their makeup artist, I was in undead heaven! Fair warning, I’ve decided to share some pics of my work in this blog, so if you’re easily grossed out by fake blood and wounds, scroll quickly, and apologies in advance!
I found a natural talent for producing gore, and along with that talent, my references to all things zombies and the apocalypse became an integral part of who I now am. I can find a way to incorporate one or both of those things into just about any conversation, and I often do! Even spiritual things!
Think about it, Lazarus…original Zombie. Second Coming…basically the same thing as the Zombie Apocalypse. But I digress.
My point is, if anyone is prepared to be a survivor during the end of the world, it’s me. At least, that’s what I thought back when I didn’t know what I didn’t know…
It was Christmas day, 2021, when Jon and I watched as our kiddos opened a shared gift. Determined to make them work for it, we had spent the better part of fifteen minutes wrapping box after box inside of each other, then stretching multiple rolls of duct tape around each one.
Laughter filled our warm living room as they took turns passing the present from one kiddo to the next, desperately tearing away at the festive paper and sticky barriers of tape until they finally got to the center. Their faces lit up when they realized what was hidden deep inside—a brand new VR gaming set.
Nate jumped up and down, “I knew it! I knew it!”
Jack and Lulu turned giddy as they both debated over who got to try it first. Lasse, our foreign exchange student, smiled sweetly as he examined the outside of the large white container. They were all so excited! Within a few minutes, they were setting up games and discovered one of their favorites, Beat Saber.
Donned with the VR headset and controllers in hand, they spent hours air drumming to the different songs of the game and mastering the art of staying on beat while dodging obstacles that flew their way.
“Mom, here, you gotta try this!” Jack removed the headset from his sweaty forehead and passed it my way.
I shook my head and raised an eyebrow, “No, I’m good. I can’t even watch a 3D movie without getting dizzy. Besides, I don’t want nasty boy-sweat all over my face.”
For the next few days, each of the kids begged me to try the VR, encouraging me to do it sitting in a chair, promising they’d use disinfect wipes on the headset and controllers for me, and swearing I would have fun if I just tried.
I managed to turn them down each time, knowing that I’d regret trying it, even though, admittedly, I was a little curious about what it was like. By day three, Jon had joined in the peer pressure.
“C’mon, it’s really not that bad. Worst case scenario, you put it on and if you don’t like it, you can take it off.” My husband, always the logical one, chipped away at my resolve.
Sighing, I grabbed the headset, “Fine.” Determined just to see what it was like for a minute or two, I pulled the strap over my head and adjusted the goggles. Having no idea what to expect, I let my eyes get focused, and then froze, terror crashing through me and gluing me to the ground.
I wasn’t sure what would appear on the screen, but I assumed it was going to be some kind of musical platform. Maybe the inside of a dance club, or a simulation of being on stage with a rock band. You know, something related to Beat Saber. I had watched my kids play for days and never once got the sense that the game was scary. But here I was, literally petrified to the point of tears!
Little did I know, Jon wasn’t playing Beat Saber when he convinced me to give the VR a try. Nooooo….he had downloaded the game version of my once favorite show, The Walking Dead.
Y’all…listen.
You have NO IDEA how scary it was!
My eyes focused on the scene in front of me. Hazy gray fog settled eerily around old, decrepit tombstones. Bare trees towered over the graveyard fence, their long crooked branches reaching towards me like witches fingers. Shadows and silhouettes of dead and undead beings moved slowly in the distance. But the worst part wasn’t what I saw, it’s what I couldn’t see. Barely audible, bone-chilling moans and snarls slithered in the darkness all around me.
I wanted to turn around to see where the danger was coming from, but at the same time, I didn’t. Every single fiber of my being told me if I did, a zombie was going to be right behind me, ready to attack.
My reaction shouldn’t have surprised me. A few years earlier, when Jack and Nate were really young, I had the same crippling reaction to what I thought was an intruder in the house.
I had just put the boys down for a nap and decided to lay down myself. I quietly closed their bedroom doors, tiptoed across the house, through the living, and into my own room. After snuggling in the middle of my king-sized bed, I drifted off to sleep. I’m not sure how long I was out, but suddenly, my eyelids flew open.
With my bedroom door cracked, I could just make out the sounds of someone jiggling the handle of the front door. It was the middle of the day, Jon was at work for at least another four or five hours, and I was all alone with my babies on the other side of the house.
I stopped breathing. The front door opened, heavy boots stepped onto the tile floor, a strange clanking following the footsteps, and then the door closed.
Step, clank, step, clank, step, clank.
The strange sound coupled with slow, heavy footfalls grew closer and closer. My brain was screaming at me to get out of bed, to grab the shotgun we had on the other side and to jump up, armed and at the ready to take on the intruder, to save my babies!
My body, however, said, “Nah, girl…we’re just gonna pull the blankets up over our head and lay really still. If we can’t see him, he can’t see us. Pretend to be invisible…Maybe the intruder will just go away.”
So, that’s what I did.
I slowly pulled the blanket up, just as my bedroom light flicked on, and Jon, with confusion and a hint of laughter in his voice, asked, “What are you doing?”
Apparently, he had hurt his knee at work, so they sent him home with crutches. I guess he tried calling to tell me he was on his way home, but I missed his call. Regardless, I found something out about myself that day…
I’m a big fat chicken.
I wish I can say that with time, I got braver, and figured out how to push forward in scary situations and to not let fear paralyze me.
But here I was, frozen inside an imaginary graveyard, and unable to do anything.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t turn around, I couldn’t even form a cohesive sentence!
I’m sure you’re thinking, “Alisha, why not just take off the headset?” I mean, after all, it’s so obvious, right?
Wrong!
That thought didn’t even cross my mind! I’m tellin’ ya, the way I was acting in that moment made ding-dong Andrea look like a dang superhero genius!
My heart raced, my whole body shook, and all I could do was cry. Like, literally, full on cry. That…and nearly pee my pants.
By now, Jon’s laughter was so loud, I’m pretty sure he was close to peeing his pants, too. It didn’t matter what I did, I honest-to-goodness could not think straight. Finally, after what felt like hours, Jon gained enough composure to remove the headset for me, ultimately freeing me from my irrational fear.
Tears running down my flushed cheeks, I punched him in the bicep, and unleashed my inner J. Golden Kimball on him (don’t judge…I love Jesus, y’all, but I cuss a little). What happened after that is a little fuzzy, but I’m sure it involved changing my bottoms and eating my feelings.
What’s not fuzzy however, is the moral of the story, which is this:
In life, it’s really easy to look at a situation we aren’t in, and to say, “What an idiot. If that were me, I would…” or “What was she thinking? Why didn’t she just…”
But until you’re plopped in the middle of a situation you had no intention of being in and have never experienced before—especially if you’re put there by someone you love and trust—I’m tellin’ ya…you don’t know what you don’t know, until you do, you know?
So give others a little grace. Stop acting like you’re Judge Judy, and instead of criticism, try Christian-ism.
Love those that do it dumb.
Pray for those that are frozen with fear.
And if you can, instead of pointing and laughing, reach out, remove the goggles of a narrow perspective from their eyes, and help them take in the bigger picture.
Oh, and remember, while people like me may not be as good in a Zombie Apocalypse as we once thought we’d be, we are good for at least two things:
- Pure entertainment (after all, the apocalypse is gonna need a little humor!) and
- Bait (or at the very least, a sacrificial chicken to help hold off the zombies so you can get away!)
Enjoy some fun videos of my boys on the VR.
