Vampires Versus Zombies: Ottawa

What were you doing when the zombies rose and the whole world went to hell? That's a question I've heard spoken many times in the days after the Plague. Everyone remembers where they were when 9/11 happened, when Barack Obama got elected President of the USA, and now, we've got a new globe-shaping event which we all share. I was still in Canada at the time, and worked as a security guard at a mall in Ottawa. I was on the can, taking the dump of the century while browsing through online news with my iPhone.

If I weren't already taking a dump, I think I would have crapped my pants when CNN reported that zombies were swarming over Istanbul, Turkey. I thought it was a joke, or the plotline for a new horror movie. Well, it turns out that what we'd feared and joked about and speculated on for ages was finally coming true. Zombies were real, and they were rising from the dead and devouring the living. And these weren't the slow-witted, slow-moving undead bozos from George A. Romero's movies. Nope, these things could move fast, and it took a lot to bring them down.

Sarah your break is over, came a text from my co-worker Rashid, snapping me out of my reverie. Hastily I wiped myself, flushed, then got up and pulled my panties up, then my pants. I tucked in my uniform shirt, then exited the washroom stall. I washed my hands, and faced my reflection. A tall, plump, black-haired and bronze-skinned woman with a dour face looked back at me. Working security is one of the lousiest jobs in the universe. For a measly thirteen bucks per hour I was expected to patrol the biggest mall in the capital of Canada, and deal with twenty thousand shoppers.

The worst events always seem to take place during my shift, I swear. Wannabe thugs smoking weed in the mall parking lot? I'm on it. Fags fucking in the men's washroom? I'm the one who has to go in, because the male security guards definitely do not want to see that. I'm one of three female officers among a crew of fifteen, and I swear, the guys make us do all the lousy stuff. Perks of being a gal in a man's world. I don't mind, usually. I do need the exercise. I'm five-foot-eleven, and have always been somewhat of a hefty gal. long gone are the days when I wrestled for Saint Guillaume Academy in Ottawa South. Working as a security guard while studying at Algonquin College is a sedentary lifestyle. And I've been packing on the pounds.

As a Muslim woman, I'm a double minority, and not a day goes by that I don't get flak from some bozo who doesn't like to see women in hijabs in positions of authority. Usually they're old white guys, the type that have been around since the days when only white folks and natives lived in Ontario. Long before Somalis, Arabs, Turks, Asians and others started making this place their home. I've been trained to take down fools and I've also arrested my share of creeps. I take great delight in arresting racists who break the rules on mall property, I can tell you that much.

I returned to the security office, and found my co-workers Rashid Osman and Caleb Stanwood with their eyes riveted on the TV screen. Apparently, what I'd seen on my iPhone was true, there were zombies swarming over Istanbul, Turkey. Instantly I thought of my family. My parents, Rahim and Mona Ibrahim were vacationing in Baalbek, Lebanon. It's our family's ancestral home. My older brother Ali was in T.O. studying business at the University of Toronto. We're fucked, Rashid said, and I looked at him.

Rashid and I have known each other since high school. He's six-foot-two, broad-shouldered and strongly built, an unlikely mix of Somali and Italian. His mother, Elisabeth Donatello, is an immigrant from Messina, Italy. We were on the same wrestling team and although most of the guys didn't want me around, Rashid made me feel welcome. We were both Muslims and visible minorities to boot, on an otherwise all-white and predominantly Christian wrestling squad. Our coach, Mr. Richard Beal, was nice enough but the other guys were assholes. Rashid and I are close friends, and he's always had my back.

We were all gawking at the tube, wondering what the fuck was going on. At the end of the shift, I drove back to my apartment in Vanier. I was raised Muslim, but don't consider myself religious. Yet that night, I prayed to Allah and begged the Most High to keep my family safe. Since I couldn't sleep, I went on Skype, and tried to reach my parents. No such luck. Please don't let this be the end of us all, I said aloud, then fell asleep.

Nine weeks later, the zombie virus spread from Turkey to Greece, followed by Lebanon. The virus showed up in Paris, France, along with Berkshire, England, and Detroit, Michigan. Soon it was in Toronto, Ontario. Swarms of the undead roamed the streets of our major cities, and conquered the world of man. One by one cities fell, along with towns and villages, then entire countries. I found myself hiding out in the basement of the Nortel campus on Carling Avenue in Ottawa, the most secure location I could think of.

The facility is very high-tech, and used to house the research headquarters for big companies like Avaya back in their heyday. The old security team abandoned the premises, and I honestly wonder why. The place is stacked with food, water, and all kinds of technological marvels. It's protected by reinforced glass doors that would stop a high-caliber rifle. The zombies can't get in. The facility is secure. And I'm there with Rashid, and some other people.

Sylvain Joseph, a Haitian guy who once cleaned up the place, he's the one who let us in. While everyone else rushed out, he went in with his wife, Mireille, and his nineteen-year-old daughter Rachel, and his thirty-year-old son Jean-Pierre, an ex-Canadian Armed Forces bombardier. Jean-Pierre brought his wife, Jennifer Chang. I can't thank Sylvain and his family enough for letting Rashid and I inside. Without them, we would have been zombie bait. Still, I can't help feeling a bit restless underground, you know?

We're all a bit antsy, except for Rashid. Honestly, I'm starting to worry about him. In the few months that preceded the Plague, Rashid changed a lot. His parents moved to Montreal, Quebec, and although he hasn't heard from them in a while, he doesn't appear to be worried. Also, what's with the nocturnal lifestyle? He used to work the nine to five just like me, then he suddenly switched to night shifts. He also seems to have lost a lot of weight, lost the taste of Shawarma sandwiches ( something he used to crave ) and doesn't smoke anymore. The dude used to smoke a pack a day. When I asked him why he seems to lose interest in food or smoking, or daytime activities, Rashid just told me he had a lot on his mind.

Yeah, my old buddy Rashid changed into someone I barely recognized, and that was before the Plague. Think everyone else is a zombie by now? I asked Rashid one night, as we fashioned weapons out of the plentiful of crowbars in the Nortel basement. Only way to find out is to go look for people, Rashid said, deadpan. I stared at him, stunned. Going outside is madness, I said, shaking my head. Rashid looked at me, a dangerous glow in his dark eyes. There's worse things out there than zombies, he said nonchalantly.

Forget it, I said, grabbing Rashid's shoulder. I'm not letting you go out there solo, I said firmly. Rashid grinned, and for a moment, my heart went still. Was it my imagination or were his teeth longer and whiter than I remembered? You were always the brave one, Rashid said, and shrugged. Outside it was getting dark, and I was feeling tired after a long day spent reading, and exploring the Nortel complex.

I'd like to say that in times of emergency, strangers are capable of pulling together and putting aside their differences in the name of survival. Doesn't work out that way in real life. Sylvain Joseph let us into the Nortel complex, but his family wasn't exactly thrilled with having extra mouths to feed. Rashid and I worked out an arrangement with them. We'll keep things cordial and stay out of your way, I said, shaking hands with Sylvain. The stocky, middle-aged Haitian man hesitated, then shook my hand. Deal, he said. I rolled my eyes and walked away with Rashid. What is it with men and playing king of the hill?

That day, I'd gone from Lab Ten to the Pavilion, and around Lab Five. Labs Eight and Nine were my favorite, with the green walls, the tasteful nature theme and the big robot sculpture in the hallway. Although Nortel is the size of a small city, I had gotten to know it pretty well. Near Lab One was the EMC, the former security headquarters with all the cameras, and from there, we could watch the entire facility, the nearby woods and even part of the nearby street. The situation looked grim, no lie. Zombies, zombies and more zombies...everywhere.

I went to sleep that night, and it must have been around five in the morning when I woke up. My Walkie-Talkie was buzzing, and when I turned it on, I heard Rashid's voice. Sarah wake the fuck up, he said, and I stared at the phone in amazement. Rashid where are you? I asked, and when he responded, I heard the unforgettable moan of zombies in the background. I went outside to get us some weapons, Rashid said. I couldn't believe he'd done something so stupid. We were safe inside and didn't need any damn weapons. I'm outside Lab Ten, Rashid shouted, before ending communication.

I rushed as fast as I could, and by the time I got there, I figured it would be too late. My old buddy Rashid would get himself eaten by the zombies. Still, I had to try to save him. What I saw when I got to that hallway with the glass windows amazed me. Rashid was in the yard, carrying two backpacks, and wielding a rifle. He was firing at the zombies, and they basically had him surrounded. I stood there with the access card, trying to get his attention. That's when he did something that amazed me.

Rashid had run out of bullets, and I honestly thought it was going to see the end of my long-time friend. Imagine my surprise when he began to wade through the zombie horde as if he were knocking down cardboard cut-outs or mannequins. I mean, I saw him grab one, and toss him five feet into the air. As I stood there watching, I kept shouting Rashid's name. Finally, he turned to look at me. His eyes were glowing eerily, and his teeth were long and shiny. Oh shit, I thought.

Open the door, Rashid said, banging on the glass. Behind him, the zombie horde was closing in. I just froze. This was Rashid, my old buddy, but his eyes were...glowing? I swiped the card and opened the door. Get in buddy, I said. Rashid rushed in and I slammed the door shut right before a trio of zombies slammed against the glass. You okay? I asked, noticing that Rashid seemed in bad shape. Never better Sarah, he said, clapping me on the shoulder and flashing that fearless smile I knew so well. Where the fuck did you go? I said, smiling nervously. Rashid winked at me. I got us some guns, he said, grinning.

As Rashid and I made our way back to the cafeteria which served as our headquarters, I noticed he was livelier than I'd ever seen him in recent times. What happened out there? I asked him. Rashid shrugged. I got what I needed and brought us something useful, he said casually. Indeed, he brought back two rifles, and several packs of ammo. I nodded at that, then pointed at all the blood on his shirt, some of which was dripping from his chin. What's with the blood? I frowned. Rashid flashed me a disturbing smile. His canines glistened in the quick-fading darkness. It's rough out there Sarah, he said, with another shrug.

For some reason, Rashid's cavalier attitude really pissed me off. I grabbed him by the collar with a fury that stunned us both. Whoa, Rashid said, surprise in those eyes of his. Rashid you do anything this stupid and I'll kick your ass, I snapped. Then I kissed him. Rashid hesitated, then kissed me back. What was that for? he asked slyly, licking his lips. Figure it out, I said, laughing. We returned to the cafeteria, talking and joking just like before.

In hindsight, although I'm not the most observant person in the world, I overlooked a lot of things when it comes to Rashid Osman. Like, why did he sleep all day long? How come he never eats? What's with his eyes and teeth? And how in hell did he toss around those zombies like beach balls? I should have known something was up, but I guess, in some ways, I didn't want to see what was right in front of me. Sylvain Joseph and his family lived on the other side of the lab, and I was completely alone, save for Rashid. In a world full of zombies, trapped inside a fortified bunker, shunned by who might be the only other human beings left alive, I didn't want to acknowledge that my only friend Rashid was no longer fully human. I mean, how is one supposed to react to the fact one's best friend is a vampire?