Zombie Ethics Part 1

I don't think I'd be a survivor of the zombie apocolypse for very long. My beliefs and practices prevent me from harming others. Life is too precious to be taken so horribly. I'm not too sure on how Buddha views the zombies that now walk the Earth, but they are technically the "living" dead, so I don't think killing them would be right. According to my beliefs, all life is sacred.
Are zombies a sentient being, though? They seem to have basic motor functions, react to sound and the presence of food -which is us, actually-, and can interact with those who are near them. They hunger like we all do; gather and huddle together like we all do. Does it matter that their food just happens to be us, and they can't communicate above the basest of levels? Humans, as a species, eat the flesh of other living beings, such as cows, chickens and the like, and think nothing of it. Catholics use communion during their services, which can be seen as cannibalism on some level. Don't believe me? Then why do they say that the wine is the blood of Christ, and those wafers are the flesh of Christ?
I don't mean to go on and on about those kinds of things, so I must apologize now. It's just, this whole issue with the recently dead coming back to life can get a person thinking, ya know? My beliefs got me in this mess, and I sometimes wonder what things would be like if things were different; if I was different. The issue of cannibalism always seems to get me going. I gave up meat a long time ago, and seeing those things eating people tends to set things into motion in my mind and I can't stop sometimes. People live by eating the flesh of other creatures and call it normal everyday life, but when a zombie gnaws on the brains of your best friend, those same people get hysterical. Oops, there I go again. Sorry, I can't seem to stop myself today.
The how and why of our little predicament is irrelevant. Well, that's mostly because I don't listen to all the guessing and assumption games that people are playing anymore. Was it a virus, plague, space meteors, or an alien invasion? I, just like everybody else, don't have a stinking clue. The only thing that's for sure is that the government tried pulling one of their usual stupid stunts, and now we have the walking dead banging on the door. They don't discriminate, either. Are you a little old lady, someones child, or the idiot who thinks their invincible? The answer to that question is: It doesn't matter! They eat you no matter who you are.
The weak and ill equiped were the first to go, I'm afraid. What that means is that old ladies, kids and idiots didn't last long. They also made up the first of the zombie nation. Old people were too slow in their retreat, plus they tend to be fragile and break easy. Kids were too trusting of the people banging down the door, even though the people they were trusting smelled of sewage and rot. Idiots, well, we all know why idiots don't survive a zombie attack. They don't take things seriously; think they're invincible; push things too far until they get tripped up and bit in all the wrong places.
Another kind of person that didn't survive the attacks was, of course, the fatties. They just don't have what it takes to escape what now roams the streets. All that extra weight slows them down, making them a smorgasbord of tasty flesh. Sorry if this is too much for your delicate flower petals, but the truth hurts when you really get down to it. I know what you're saying right about now. But you're a Buddhist, aren't you supposed to be kind and gentle and loving to all? Well, seeing your friends get eaten up by those things tends to change a person.
Actually, I was kind of chubby when everything went down the toilet. The only difference between me and them was that I played it smart. I use any chance I get to whip myself into shape. Still do, actually. Gotta stay fit if I don't want to get bit. Yes, yes, I know. That rhymes, but don't be an idiot. Anyways, I call it my daily zombie calisthenics. I run from them when I'm being chased and when I'm not, do some basic lifting with things around the house, and started eating better. Eventually I became toned up, and do my best to keep it that way. If you don't keep in shape and get lazy, thinking you don't need to keep doing things, then you get eaten.
Yesterday was interesting. I had to go to the store down the street to get staples when I ran into some zombies standing out front. How can that be interesting, you ask? Part of what was interesting was what one of them did. As I approached, I saw that it was a group of fatties loitering around the entrance of the store. Putting my head down, I slipped past them before they could shuffle my way. It wasn't until I exited the store that I saw something new. They moaned and groaned as usual at teh sight of me, but only one of them approached.
As I walked out the door, the fattest of the three shuffled towards me in their usual way: limping on his right leg, arms dead at its side. He was a fat zombie, but there was still quite a bit mising from him. His shirt and pants were torn and dirty, and the shoe on his left foot was just gone, leaving a dirt encrusted sock with holes in the heel and at the toes, which were partially falling off from rot. A large hole on the left side of its ribcage showed broken ribs and a visible hole straight through to the heart. It looked like it had gone to town on some people, because gore circled around its gaping mouth, which revealed broken teeth. There were puncture holes that came out from the inside of his cheeks, suggesting that he tried eating bone as well. The only thing that was the same as the others was his eyes. They were black as night.
What happened next was only something I had heard during reports broadcast on the television. This zombie mumbled, moaned and groaned towards me like they all do, but stopped a few paces in front of me. Staring at me with his blacker than black eyes, he raised his right arm, palm up and let it hang there. Then, a moan I had never heard before came from his gaping mouth. It was almost like he was asking me to give him something, although what I wouldn't even guess. Is that weird or what? Why would a zombie ask for something to eat when he could just lunge at me and take his next meal?
Did I mention the smell? Well, most of the dead smell like rot from spending their days in the hot sun and humidity of summer, but this one seemed to go one step further. This next bit is something I've heard and seen, but haven't been close enough to really take it all in. From out of nowhere, this bag of death let out the loudest fart I have ever heard. You may laugh, but when you hear all the sordid details, that grin of yours will disappear real quick. All zombies are known for their flatulence. It's a worldwide fact. It's the main way for them to expel all the gases that come with decomposition. The twist comes just as quick as the smell. Sure, the bites and scratches are easy ways for people to turn, but these farts can turn you as well. Gross, right? They tell you to be prepared for anything, like in the boy scouts, and I was always a firm believer in that little fact. I always carry a portable gas mask with me for just such an occasion. I keep it with me at all times, whether I'm grocery shopping, or checking on my generator. That and a good pair of running shoes are essential tools when dealing with zombies.