I had another crazy dream from last night — no doubt brought on by the root beer and sour cream and onion potato chips I ate before bed. And if you’ll indulge me, I’ll write it from the omniscient point of view — as an exercise.
The cyclist was surprised to see the car traveling towards her, as though she didn’t expect any traffic to oppose her as she rode the wrong way around the parkade. The long metal tube protruding from the front of her bicycle punctured the plastic front driver’s side quarter panel of Darren’s car, but she was unhurt.
Darren seeing the cyclist was only startled, but the car damaged, Darren instctively asked for the cyclist’s phone number, understanding that she wouldn’t have her insurance papers with her. But, the cyclist was incensed and rode away, even though the damage was only a few hundred dollars.
“Jenn, we’ve got to find her!” Darren called to his wife.
They both ascended to street level looking for the woman in the thick blue dress with the horizontal white stripes.
“You go around that way, I’ll check this way.”
As Darren made his way through the crowds of the Byward Market, he had the uneasy feeling that the zombie-robots would soon be coming to get him. Jenn was obviously feeling the same thing because they both returned to the underground parkade and met at the cargo elevator.
“They’ve got to be in there by now,” said Jenn, “I can see that the elevator isn’t at this level. They’re on their way up, now!”
“Well, we’ve got to lock the doors,” said Darren as he pulled the thick metal bar around and felt the lock clunk into place.
The shaft was sealed. They waited. As the zombie-robots rose in the elevator shaft, the pressure would build, squeezing the zombie-robots and weakening them. Jenn watched through the window to see them rise.
“They’re here! Open the lock!” Jenn called.
As Darren pushed the locking bar back, the pressure from within flung open the heavy metal doors and shot the zombie-robots into the cement wall across the room. They were stunned, but they were zombies and you can’t kill something that’s already dead. At most, Darren and Jenn had gained enough time to escape the parkade before the zombie-robots came after them.
Darren and Jenn ran to street level and spotted an old house a block away. It had a large front porch and seemed like the best hiding spot. Darren tried to keep his shotgun hidden as they ran through the crowd of Edwardian shoppers.
Hey, it was a dream. No, story structure, no resolution, no sense either.
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