…

  The next venue was a hotel, for lack of a better term. There was space. There were rooms to sleep in. There were food reserves and dining areas. What percentage of all of these made up the definition of a hotel was beyond me. We dined, we lodged, and we spaced, this time without interruption from zombies. The rest of daylight occurred at this venue.

  We mostly waited for stuff to happen. Exciting. Showing up first is a curse and should be avoided at all costs. A lot of ‘J’ group helped staff, or were staff. It was fascinating to watch the staff run around to set everything up, but there really wasn’t much else to do. We were given playing cards for entertainment. I couldn’t bring myself to pretend to care, so I opted out and only watched Anna’s group play. They offered to teach me a few times, but I declined.

  While watching time pass, I felt like my presence became less welcome, no matter if I watched them play or if I watched the staff scurry around but stuck near Anna’s group. It was odd, as I knew I wasn’t the center of attention. Maybe I was imagining things. I decided to ask circuitously.

  To whoever I was closest, I caught their attention and asked: “Do you ever feel like someone else can listen to what you’re thinking?”

  They were about to answer, hesitated, and had a slow gasp, but one of the staff members snuck up behind me to announce that supper was ready. Early supper. Everyone looked hungry regardless, especially with what walking they did. I guess I won’t get my answer for now.

  We had continental dinner. Why is it called continental? Because it was buffet-style, and anyone could take a continent’s worth of food. For all that mattered in my mind, that was why. I joined in. There was plenty of variety to eat, and we were sheltered enough anyway. We also had plenty of utensils and napkins. Besides, it looked like the- many- chefs were carting out more food as supplies ran low. I took a small slice of steak…a slice of chicken…a slice of lamb…a few sides, fruit, vegetables, pretty much everything. No one can complain I didn’t try anything, plus I believe all of my nutrients would be covered.

  I was being instigated again. Maybe that was a strong term. They wanted to keep hearing my joke. I was sort of done. There was more joke, but it was somewhat draining to tell. Like every word that was plucked from my mouth fermented into poison. I know they didn’t mean any harm, but I felt patronized. I felt like I was being treated like a child.

  Just to get it over with, I decided to continue. “Alright. So, the conductor, who had already gone through the wringer twice, decides he can’t resist his urges for the trains. He yearns for the trains; his calling is to be a conductor. So he finds one of those, I guess, kiddie-sized trains. It has a couple of cars, all the kids and their parents love him, he’s a swell guy. He’s sort of free-wheeling it, like it’s one of those trains that have a steering wheel and stuff. He gets distracted and, wham, hits a tree. He flies out and somehow lands in a bush, uninjured. The same can’t be said about the families riding in the back. He gets arrested, thrown in the can, and was sentenced to death for a third time. The prison warden is absolutely fuming.” I had to catch my breath.

  “He’s hootin’, he’s hollerin’, he’s throwing a cow saying this time this meal will be his last. The conductor patiently asks for one thing- it’s the, it’s that red banana. New location. New season. So much worse than before. This time of year, you can only find red bananas in this like, remote savannah where random sparks of lightning shoot from tree to tree, and in the center, there’s like this never-ending super tornado that kicks up so much dust that you literally cannot see into it. There’s red lightning coming out of it and everything, horrifying. So the prison warden begrudgingly orders every last elite soldier to retrieve this red banana. They’re off with the most state-of-the-art logistics possible. They’ve got buggies, high-tech campers, high-caliber guns, harpoons- in case they need to fight off a flying whale or something; they’ve got the whole nine yards,” yet I hardly got any response. They looked like they were encouraging me, but only out of a diffused responsibility to give respect to someone who was friends with their friend and someone who was new.

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  “It’s like a post-apocalyptic wasteland for them. They’re fighting off fusions of animals you never even heard of. Mosquitos with horses that throw up acid? Armadillos with cannons on their back? Crazy stuff out there. Some of them get sucked up into the mega-super-death tornado, but some of them survive and end up in this really cool sanctuary with flower-covered hills, gently moving windmills, a small lake, oh, and a red banana tree. Awesome. They make it out, and only a dozen at most survive. They bring the conductor the meal. He eats it. He gives one last look and a charismatic smile to the prison warden. The warden tips his hat, turns on the lever, and, let’s just say it was really shocking,” Before I could finish, I jolted from my seat from a brutal hand slamming down on my shoulder.

  Manhandled. The force wasn’t the issue, but the element of surprise killed me. My initial jolt was met with a very conscious reaction to become defensive. Quiet, tense, not willing to be open.

  “It’s good to see new people here. You look like a fine young man. We could use someone like you. I’m Joh.” he was almost touching my chair.

  Looming above me, although having a difficult time evaluating his height, was a suited man. He was a bit wide, although not portly. Just wide. Beard. Yellow-tinted glasses. A ring or two, which I actually felt. Those were the notable points. Not someone I thought I was going to get any useful information out of.

  I tried to smile, but it was very hard to make it happen. If anything, I was almost ready to challenge whoever this was, no matter who they were. Instead, I just stayed quiet and made a bobbing motion that would simulate nodding or agreement or whatever would make him go away.

  “Zombies are still new to us. You hear about them once and a while, but there’s no way to know how to respond to one unless you’ve been face-to-face with one. We have hosted an event like this before, and wanted to try out a new procedure. We show up a few days before the event. Make a lot of noise. Gauges whether or not activity is higher in the area. Attracts a good chunk of them. Close the doors and it’s like shooting fish in a barrel. I doubt there were many casualties aside from the dangerous jobs. Sorry…sorry for making you climb up there. Being split up would’ve made communications slower, logistics more difficult, and the proverbial fire spread more,” their leader explained.

  We sort of dismissed each other, where he gave a crispy smile telling me to ‘enjoy my stay,’ and I emotionlessly stared nearly at his eyes without directly confronting them, lest they figuratively burn out of his eye sockets. I was checked out for the rest of dinner and just waited to be carried along to whatever was next.

  At Anna’s request, she got to room with the rest of her group. Since I would’ve been essentially a lost puppy, they gave me a key, too. Relatively flexible arrangements. We waited outside as we heard something shift, most likely the walls. After an uncomfortably long exchange, we were let in after hearing a few clicks.

  Modular. Lots of zigzagging tracks lined the floor, as well as rolling beds and couches suggested they really can just use space subjectively. Pillars held stability and form in the room, but otherwise, a lot was subject to be customized. I took time just to follow where each line ended up, finding that there were deadbolt locks on each wall. Fascinating. The carpets were different, from swirls, to piano keys, to stick people, and all sorts of patterns that would be described as ‘Global Coffeehouse’.

  The greater half of us called it a night. I had nothing to do with myself, and I was drained. Working, walking, and guard duty didn’t take energy from me. Something else made keeping my eyes open difficult.

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