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Cubicle walls make an excellent shield to hide from zombies behind. They're also mobile, to a degree. That's how we got everyone across the street to the tech school safely. Well, except for Snarky Lady's Minion and some of the phone goons and also some upper managers. But the rest of us, armed with pots of coffee, were reasonably OK. The tech school had already lowered their portcullis metal gate, but upon determining that we all seemed to still be human, allowed us to go in one of the doors. It's very eerie to go in one at a time with very intent-looking snipers aiming at you until you've been determined to be non-zombified. But the AK-47s were reassuring, in a way. A very scary way.

Tech schools are good for some things. This one has a nice electrical engineering lab, and a whole boatload of guys who have been training for opportunities like this since first they discovered arcade games. Arming everyone with makeshift taser-type weapons was not a problem. There are some things that look like medieval siege weaponry as well, and I don't even want to go into the topic of duct-tape sword-guys. What are they going to do, play baseball with the zombies' heads?

I should have expected that the Cute Redheaded Professor was going to wind up in charge. He and a couple others were planning strategy. I filtered through to them when I pointed out what Snarky Lady had inadvertently discovered -- that hot coffee poured on zombies confuses them and makes them more sluggish, and ultimately stop moving. There were tests off the front balcony. Turned out that caffeine was the essential ingredient.

...Good job this is a tech school. The cafeteria staff was not happy about having their soda fountain equipment uprooted and moved upstairs onto the balcony where they'd get the best range, and even less happy about the way the equipment got ripped apart and modified into sort of across between a primitive sprinkler and a flamethrower, but when a few of the guys pointed out that the alternative was going to be a zombie infestation, they subsided.

The moaning and shambling seems to have died down out there. I think we'll be safe for the night. I'm bunking down in one of the computer labs.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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