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The Walking Dead, saison 1More than two years ago now, the Syfy channel canceled one of the best shows, I feel, on TV at the time, Stargate: Universe. Since then, the Syfy channel has partaken in nothing but meaningless drivel in regards to their programming (i.e. Sharknado). Also since that time, Cable television has gone a long way to save the art and quality of the TV age. To see this look no further than The Game of ThronesBlack SailsThe Walking DeadVikingsBreaking Bad, and Dexter, just to name a few. However, even with all these shows and the various cable networks that have produced them, the Syfy channel has been left out and produced nothing, or at the very least, very little, in the way of quality programming (in my opinion, anyways). Looking at cables counterpart, Hollywood, we see an endless stream of crap in the form of Superhero movies and, well, more Superhero movies. Again, just my opinion.

I bring this up because this morning I’m reading that the Syfy channel has put in an order for 13 episodes of a zombie show called Z Nation. From the description is sounds pretty good. This is disturbing for me because I love Zombie and post-Apocalyptic themed movies, books and television shows. With the Syfy channel coming out with this new show it has a fifty-fifty chance of being half way decent, but also almost a 100% of the Syfy canceling the show just as it’s getting good, because that’s what they do. Which leaves me with a delima: do I watch or don’t I? Because, more than likely, in the end I’m probably going to be disappointed one way or the other. All I ask from the Syfy channel is that they give this show at least a chance of being successful. Don’t move around the night and time when the show is on, like they did with Stargate: Universe, that is a show killer! Don’t make it stupid! I’m sorry but Sharknado is stupid! Sure everybody was talking about it and a sequel is even being made, but my God man, talk about brainless television. And lastly, when producing this show, don’t behave like the Syfy channel, because, like I have already said, you have a propensity of producing crap or killing shows altogether when they are good, and simply making bad decisions.

Okay, I’m done ranting.


Some themes have been done and done to death, Zombies are one of those themes, but The Walking Dead…. All I can say is I can’t wait for this premier. October 16.

The subject may be overdone and written to oblivion, but I love Zombie stories and have been looking forward to reading World War Z by Max Brooks for some time, so I make no apologies for the soon-to-be Zombie book review that will soon follow.

The book is a narration of several stories from several different points of view about how the Zombie Apocalypse got started. So far, the stories are short, but well written with plenty of detail and, well, gore.

“What is this?” Dan asked, pointing to the form on a man in the corner of the moon that was on the other side of the one-way mirror.

“A Zombie.” Was Alan’s simple response.

Dan looked back over at the man after he signed the clipboard in front of him and took the veils of various meds, of which Alan was the keeper. The man in the other room wore a hospital gown that wasn’t tied in the back. To Dan he didn’t look like a zombie, his skin was ashy, but not so void of color that the man could be mistaken for a walking corpse. That didn’t mean much, however, since Dan had never seen a zombie, nobody had as far as he knew, and also as far as he knew they didn’t exist. But these government employees weren’t ones to make jokes, Dan came to discover a few months after he joined their ranks.

While trying to make friends at his knew job, Dan one day made a comment that he thought that there might be a rip in his environmental protection suite, based on a change in air pressure inside his suite. When he told them that nope, he was wrong, he had just farted, Dan was met with only blank stairs. Later he learned there were procedures in place to sterilize any floor, by fire followed by an induced vacuum condition in the event that there was a chemical of biological breach. It didn’t take Dan long to realize what this met: certain death to anybody on those floors.

“No seriously?” Dan added knowing that many of the projects in this base were bizarre and unethical, and therefore classified, but zombies? He thought that government could come up with something better then that.

Letting out an audible sigh, Alan put the clipboard he was studying so very carefully down on the table and fished another one out of the pile next to him. He flipped through a few pages before handing the clipboard to Dan.

“The mans name is General Sykes, Theodore Sykes. He was exposed to some knew nerve agent in Kharizistan. The only way to save him,” the army felt,” Dan could hear the contempt in his voice on that last comment, “was to administer a drug that slows brain function and basically stops all higher brains functions.”

Having finished his lecture, Alan picked up the clipboard he had previously been studying and returned to his diligent reading of it.

“Essentially turning the subject into a zombie.” Dan comments, mostly to himself.

The end had come just as quick as the beginning had. Just a day before, the dead had risen. At first Bryan thought that somebody had to be pulling his chain. And who wouldn’t? There are no such things as zombies and the dead don’t come back to life to feed on the living.

It was the smell that indicated otherwise.

In the movies zombies are always covered in blood and usually have glazed-over eyes, but in the world of make-up artists and contact lenses, anybody can be made-up to look like a zombie, but nothing can be done to make you smell like a zombie.

And yet that is exactly how Bryan came to realize that what he was seeing, and what was happening – and happening to the whole town, apparently – was not an October 1 equivalent of an April fools joke. This was real!

Bryan had remembered thinking that Ms. Marsten was old – really old – the first time he had seen her when he moved into the neighborhood with his parents fifteen years before. But after all those years and waiving to Ms. Marsten everytime he turned the corner down which his house sat at the end of a culdasac, Bryan just figured that she would live forever.

What Bryan didn’t know is that forever ended on October 1 when Ms. Marsten woke-up early, like she did every morning, made some coffee and then sat down at a small wooden table in her kitchen where she could read the paper and watch the neighbors come and go on their way to work. No sooner had she sat down did she feel a sharp pain in her chest, almost as if a baby elephant had sat down on her only to sit immediately back up as the pain went away. When the pain repeated itself a moment later, she knew exactly what was going on.

Looking up towards the phone that hung on the wall at the other end of the kitchen, she stood up, trying to exert as little effort – and as little strain on her heart – as possible. But she didn’t make it. As her legs straightened and she was about to take that first step was when the elephant decided that it was going to sit down on her chest again, and this time for good.

Unable to take even a single breath, Ms. Marsten fell forward, the life snuffed out from her eyes even before she hit the floor, which was probably a good thing for her, because if she had managed to survive her heart attack, and if the paramedics got there quickly enough, she would have never survived the hit to the head as she hit the edge of the counter on her way down, tearing a large piece of her scalp off and putting a considerable dent in her forhead.

And there Ms. Marsten lay for about eight hours. And just as people started to get back home from work that evening, was when the event happened.

If Bryan could have seen her get up off the floor, first on one knee and then with the use of her hands to grab a hold of the counter – the same counter she hit her head on – to lift herself up, Bryan might have thought she was OK, and that the fall hadn’t really been that bad. But her eyes had already glazed over, forming a half-transparent curtain through which the world was barely discernible. Here eyes, however, would be the sense that came in the least handy for her now. Now her brain and her thoughts centered around her sense of smell and that sense of smell signaled the only part of her brain that was still functioning, the part that commander her to feed.