Zombie preparedness

Zombie Preparedness

Zombies? In B.C.? Are you serious? Well, sorta. While the chance of the undead knockin’ on your door is slim, we do believe if you’re ready for zombies, you’re ready for a disaster. Prepared BC has an arsenal of zombie preparedness tips to help you survive any emergency.


Videos

Start by watching this video of a little girl who foiled a zombie attack, then take note of these five zombie preparedness tips:


Survivors blog

Our survivor's blog offers advice should you ever find yourself up close and personal.

7:00 am: Exposure

Just got up and flicked on the TV. Every channel is reporting the outbreak of an aggressive flu. Early symptoms of exposure are a cough, fever and disorientation. People are being asked to call in sick and shelter-in-place to help stop the virus from spreading.

I feel great, but hey, a day off works for me!

Noon: Infection

Okay, this sounds a titch worse than the flu. Hospitals are bursting with people who’ve been infected and there are strange, but still unconfirmed, reports of violent outbreaks.

Emergency officials are urging people to stay home and await further instructions. No argument here. Will continue monitoring broadcast media reports and the Emergency Info BC Twitter feed and website.

3:00 pm: Epidemic

Unbelievable. Media have confirmed the infected are attacking healthy people. The final symptom of infection? Overwhelming need to eat brains. Typical human behaviour is now completely absent.

5:00 pm: Power & Phone Lines Cut

No power, no land line.

So I guess that’s it. I’m officially on my own. But I’m not going to panic. I’m going to stay cool, calm and collected. I’m prepared, and will live to tell the tale.

I’ve pulled a battery-operated radio out of my emergency kit, so I can keep monitoring instructions from local government and emergency officials. So far, word is to stay put.

Cell phones are still operational, but digital traffic is heavy. Thankfully text messaging is getting around the network disruption and I’m able to communicate with my mom, sister and friends across town. If necessary, I have extra batteries and a solar-powered/hand-crank charger for my lap-top and smart phone. These may be my only sources of communication for awhile.

Signing off for the night, but doubt I’ll get much sleep.

Hopefully not my brain.

Still no sign of zombies in my neighbourhood. No sign of anyone – it’s like a ghost town.

I’m eating perishable food out of the fridge first (won’t last long with the power out), but may have to break into my emergency kit later today or tomorrow.

Thank goodness I pulled a kit together. Some of the things I included are:

  • Food (a minimum three-day supply of items like canned soup, beans and veggies), manual can-opener and bottled water (four litres per person per day).
  • Battery-operated flashlight and battery-operated radio.
  • Spare batteries (one can never have too many batteries).
  • First aid kit.
  • Extra car/house keys and cash.
  • Personal hygiene items and medications.
  • Seasonal clothing.
  • Phone charger

I’m still monitoring radio reports and Emergency Info BC on Twitter.

As a precaution, my local government has issued an evacuation alert. I’m also carefully reviewing my emergency plan (PDF, 1.9MB) in case an evacuation order is ultimately issued. It outlines safe exits from my neighbourhood, the location of my local emergency shelter, out-of-province contact numbers and a designated place to reunite with family. Have to admit, having a plan has eased my stress. I’ll know exactly what to do when – or if – the time comes.

There’s scraping along the side of the house.

The blinds are down, but there’s definitely something outside. I can see a silhouette now.

Looks unnatural – limbs at all wrong angles. Zombie.

Now what? I’m well prepared, but battling enraged cannibals – that’s a stretch.

What the heck was that!? Sounds like breaking glass at the front of the house.

This is it. Footsteps.

Definitely not human, dragging.

They’re inside…

I’m alive.

Two zombies made it into the house yesterday, but I managed to wallop them with my fire extinguisher, drag them outside and board up the broken window.

The evacuation alert has now been raised to an evacuation order.

At first, I was “Say what? I’m not leaving my home!” But I know the people in charge – government officials, local emergency and transportation representatives – have the best intelligence. They know what to do and my safety depends on listening to their instructions.

I’m supposed to go to the high school gym where a reception centre has been set up. Once I’ve registered there, I’ll be able to access food, shelter, clothing and emotional support, which is good because I could really use a hug right now.

Before I leave, I’m going to bring my:

I was also told to:

  • lock the doors
  • call or e-mail my out-of-province contact so my family knows I'm fine
  • Leave an "okay" sign and note telling others when I left and where I am going (good thing zombies can’t read)

My car always has a half-tank of gas, so getting to the shelter won’t be a problem.

Wish me luck.

We just got word that the zombies have been destroyed! Something about them being allergic to pollen. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was because they starved – too many people with emergency plans, emergency kits, the will to survive and all that.

Everyone is relieved and excited, but I can feel trepidation in the air. People are afraid to go home and see the state of their communities. We’ve all just survived a traumatic event. Even though it's passed, we still see it clearly and feel the anxiety it caused.

The wonderful volunteers with Emergency Support Services tell me these feelings are natural responses to a traumatic event. The key is to remember I survived and that they will diminish. It will take time, and I may need help, but eventually I'll put this experience behind me.

Then there are all the other things I need to do to get back to normal: recover lost documents, salvage furniture and appliances, clean up. Where do I start?

The ESS folks gave me some guidance that walks me through how to put your life back together and keep track of the progress.

Now to take a deep breath, go home and get started. And I hope I never see another can of beans again. Ever.

 


Published in 2012