Survivors of the Zombie Outbreak Interview #18: Tom Stanton by Eric Heisserer
	Get in. Ride with me. This thing is a war horse, and I'm not about to get us stranded. You're safe. I've decided I'm going to tell you. Why I'm out here cruising the neighborhoods and the parking lots every day, "just wasting gas" as Carl likes to say. We're just two blocks east of Cloverdale. That's where it happened, at the end of the first week. You know how everyone gets right around then. The undead are clogging the streets, moaning for anyone still alive. You're nearly out of food. You're not desperate enough to crack open the Alpo, not yet. So you make a list of people you knew. Friends and family in town, starting with the ones nearest you. Lucy, my sister-in-law, she had a huge pantry at her place. Lots of canned goods, lots of bottled water. She and her husband Dan were always worried about hurricanes. Dan was soft-spoken, patient. But I knew Lucy was up in Dallas with my wife Karen when everything went to hell. Did I tell you about Karen? I'll play you some voicemails later so you can hear her voice. I saved them all. So I made my way to their place, hoping it hadn't been looted. I heard these wet gnashing sounds in the kitchen and stumbled upon Dan. By the looks and smell of him, he'd turned a few days prior. Some kid had broken in through the patio maybe an hour ahead of me, but Dan must have been roaming in the dark, waiting. The boy's skull was cracked wide and Dan had two fingers digging inside, scooping gray matter into his mouth. I vomited right there, all over their counter. And that's when it happened. Dan looked my way, and blinked. Like he just woke up. The fog in his eyes lifted. And then he spoke. "Tom." He recognized me, for just a moment. Then the eyes glazed over again and his jaw muscles loosened and he went back to feeding. That's when it all changed for me. I started carrying around this camcorder. Documenting. Studying them. Here, let me show you. Hit "play" and tilt this screen. This footage is on the golf course north of here. See that one? Him? Look at those things around his neck, all tied with string. That's a little Eiffel Tower, a paper weight maybe. And a doll's head. And a woman's watch. Ornaments from his life. I thought maybe someone else made it for him, you know, and put it on him. I used to think that. Okay. That's from right outside the high school, last month. And, wait for it, and, there! Pause it, pause it. See those two? The one-armed girl in the dress, and the boy with the broken glasses? Yeah. They're holding hands. Okay, one more. This was from a week ago, right near Cloverdale. The grand finale. I nearly missed sight of her, too. Over on the lawn, the decayed woman with no lower jaw. Guess who that is? Lucy. She must have walked from Dallas. Shambled. I don't know how she made it all the way back here, but there you go. And the thing is, you wouldn't notice her; couldn't tell her apart from the others. I went and got close, took her purse, just to make sure it was her. Yeah. She came home. Carl hates me. Until I showed him, he and the others used to brag about how many they'd killed. A hundred, two hundred. A thousand. With hammers and bats; with shotguns and fire axes; with Buckley's bulldozer. Before, they were just animated corpses. But they're alive. Some part of them, somewhere in there. So that's why I'm out here every day, cruising my old neighborhood. I'm looking for Karen. When I find her, I'll wrap her in a blanket and take her home. I'll do whatever I can to keep her alive. She would do the same for me.
	Copyright © 2006 Eric Heisserer