The “Dream Team”

Although it’s become passé, i’ve long been a fan of the Zombie Apocalypse as a practical metaphor for disaster preparedness. Even the stodgy Center for Disease Control built a zombie survival plan to better market the need to take a modicum of responsibility for your own sorry arse when the shit hits the fan…

As we spent time on the gun range recently, and caught up on “stuff”, The Boy appeared to be at least mildly impressed with my interest in shoring up my skills in the survival department.

Backpacking, SCUBA, motorcycling,  Now adding horseback riding lessons to the mix. Already a “one and a half banana” mechanic with machines, rudimentary plumbing and electrical wiring. A master with duct tape. Power tools (including chainsaws) do not intimidate me. i might actually be useful should the undead rise from the dirt.

It bothered me a bit – thinking about The Girl. The Boy is armed, rugged and ruthless. The Girl’s got an amazing brain, is a trained linguist, and has a powerful intellect…

Travel-wise? None better! She escaped a fight in a Turkish brothel, rode trains in India, took an impromptu trip down a Chinese river and survived seven hours on camel-back en route to the Great Pyramids – all before she was 20 years old.

As a kid, she was the least comfortable with our outdoor adventures, and wasn’t a fan of “roughing it”.  Will her Ninja-like travel skills be enough?

i really want her on the team.  “Survival of the Species” and all that shit. When genetic proliferation is at stake, i can’t exactly go back to the drawing board. My two existing spawn are all i’ve got to support my quest for DNA-based immortality.

Recounting my conversation with The Boy to Studley, as he drove us back from our horseback riding lessons, i remembered a moment from a few years back.  And found a glimmer of hope…

[sound bite signifying flashback goes here…]

It was 2004. i was battling mono. Passed out at home, with a fever of 105 F. The Girl was in town for a few days, and had borrowed my car to purchase art supplies from a warehouse in a rough part of town.

In a fever-ravaged haze, i picked up the phone as she called…

The Girl: I hit a curb when i went into the art supply house! I have a flat!

daisyfae: i have a fever and no car. Call the auto club. i can’t do a damn thing to help. Is there a spare tire?

The Girl: Let me check. I’ll call you back.

She called me back within ten minutes.

The Girl: Yes, there’s a spare. I called the auto club – they’ll be here in about an hour.

daisyfae: Wait in the store, or in the car if you don’t feel comfortable.  It’s getting dark.

The Girl: I’m fine. Some creepy dude asked me for change when I was looking for the spare. I told him to fuck off. “Can’t you see I’m having issues here?!?”

She’s on the team…