Content Warning

Greetings and Salutations.
Because my stories have bite, they can contain content that isn't suitable for work or children. Not a lot of truly graphic sex or violence, but there are some questionable or heated posts. F-bombs are not uncommon, so watch your footing.

Friday, February 24, 2012

#FridayFlash - Yoga Class

Another late start. Time is jumping and skipping around me, and I sometimes forget what day it is.

But here it is. Inspired by the opening scene of the Dawn of the Dead remake, actually. I really love the main  chick. She is bad ass.


What a way to meet the zombie apocalypse; in yoga pants and barefoot.

They burst into the gym, growling and seeking warm flesh, and I was in the middle of Downward Facing Dog. I was so relaxed, not listening to my surroundings, ready for the long hiking trek through the desert. The first couple screams didn't get my attention, and I moved on to my next pose.

When I looked up, I saw the yoga instructor's very limber limbs being ripped apart.

Shock froze me, made time stand still. My husband and I prepared for SHTF moments, never quite knowing what would happen. Not that we wanted anything so dramatic as the end of the world as we knew it to happen, but we'd rather live through it if we could. Cross-country hiking, stored food and weapons, barter items and old skills, and emergency plans. We had it all.

None of that was helping me in the middle of my yoga class. This wasn't supposed to be happening. When the CDC put up their zombie preparedness site, we'd seen through the joke to the valuable information. It was all a good idea.

But we hadn't thought the zombies would be real.

My shock would have gotten me killed if I didn't normally position myself in the middle of class. There were sixteen women between me and the rampaging dead. Their screams and panicked reactions drew the zombies, gave me the three moments I needed to gather myself.

The car keys were in my shoes by the door. I never used the locker room, hating the smell, and was ever grateful. With only one entrance, the lockers would have been a death trap. As it was, the big weight room and lobby had to be crossed to get outside and to my car. They'd likely be filled with stampeding people and hungry zombies.

Darting between milling women, I gathered up keys and shoes, hesitating only briefly to debate putting my shoes on. Those thirty seconds could make a big difference; I might be delayed and caught by zombies, but my feet would hurt less running across the parking lot.

I compromised by bolting from the yoga room into the weight room. A football field sized room with weight machines and grunting jocks, it was nothing but turmoil. Zombies had attacked a group by the treadmills, stopping to eat. Some of the big body builders were trying to fight, and seemed to be using the free weights to their advantage.

All I needed to know was that the lobby hadn't been overtaken. I had a mostly clear line to the parking lot, only a few panicky gym-goers struggling toward the door. Not enough people to be a mob yet. If I could just get them between me and the zombies, I should be able to get to the car and my emergency kit.

The emergency kit with my big machete.

Leaning against the wall, I slipped into my deck shoes. Thin little slip-ons, they wouldn't give a lot of traction, but they'd protect me better than nothing. Gripping the ignition key, I bolted, keeping my eyes on the prize. The blood and violence didn't matter. The monsters reaching for me didn't matter.

Get to the car. Get inside. Meet up with Hubby. Nothing else. Focus on nothing else.

Keeping my breath steady, I raced through the doors and through the parking lot. I was a natural sprinter, and had built up stamina over the last couple years. Maintaining this race wouldn't be hard, but the car was only fifty yards from the front door. In the blink of an eye, I was at my Impala.

None of the zombies were out here yet. It was almost too easy to start up and drive through the few people who'd escaped. My heart thundered in my throat, and I shook with adrenaline. I even screamed a little when my cell phone rang.

My husband's voice was cheery when I answered. "Hey babe. How was yoga class?"

"Where do I even start?"