I make it a policy to do whatever people with guns pointed at me tell me to. I’d never had to put this policy into practice before, but now seemed like the best time. “Invader Zim. Like, the TV show?” I couldn’t help but follow with. The sense of the surreal was there, but this was much less strange than the walking dead. “Yes, the TV show. You can speak which means you’re not a zombie, and you know about TV, which makes me think you might not be an alien. I haven’t seen any aliens, but I’m not putting anything to fucking chance.” She hadn’t put the gun down. Diplomacy seemed the best option. “So…were you the one that blew the whistle? You’re going to attract them all. We have to get out of here.” She knelt down, not taking her eyes or the gun, which would seem ridiculously large if there were anything funny about my immanent death, off of me.