The Time I Got Arrested Killing Zombies

I have been fascinated with zombies years before we even thought about starting a camp. My brother Paul and I would indulge ourselves with zombie movies, games and how can we resist the Toronto Zombie walk. What is a zombie hunter to do when there are thousands of freshly made zombies patrolling the street bringing terror to the citizens of Toronto? You strap as many weapons to your body that you can and take to the streets… or at least I did.

In October of 2011 Paul and I decked ourselves our in our most badass zombie hunting outfits that we could find. I found my dad’s old leather jacket from his motorcycle days, put on a clean pair of jeans and slipped on my aviator shades. We then began to arm ourselves with as many Dollar store weapons that $20 could buy. I had a plastic shotgun, knife strapped to my leg, green painted plastic grenades, and Molotov cocktails that were made from old pop bottles we found in the recycling bin. We were ready to take on the horde.

For hours we battled thousands of zombies in the downtown core. It was exhilarating; it felt as though we were actually the last two survivors in the zombie apocalypse fighting our way out of the city. We found zombies of all shapes and sizes - cute zombies, terrifying zombies, funny zombies. All day we chased and ran away from them pretending to shoot them and they would playfully go down, it was if we were all back in the schoolyard playing make believe.

As the sun began to fall, we started to make our way back home laughing about the day we had and the friends we had made. Before we entered the subway we stopped into Tim Hortons for a coffee still equipped with all the zombie killing tools of the day. I had my plastic shotgun stuffed into the back of my leather jacket and waited patiently for our turn to order. As Paul went to pay for his coffee I heard loud footsteps running towards me from behind. I felt a pair of large arms wrap around my neck and without knowing who it was I tucked in my head and grabbed the arms of my attacker. I shifted my body to get into a more powerful position and that is when I saw a much more terrifying sight than a zombie. It was the indistinguishable black and blue uniform of Toronto’s finest. The arms that were wrapped around me belonged to a Toronto Police Officer.

Within seconds I was thrown onto the ground face first, I had the full weight of the officer on top of me, his elbow digging into the back of my neck. As he yelled orders into my ear, my heart beat so hard I could feel it in my throat. I placed my hands behind my back while he prepared to handcuff me. Beside me I could see the remnants of my plastic gun, little pieces of plastic scattered all over the floor. There was a sticker of a little cowboy mouse on the handle of the gun, he stared at me winking as the officer tightened the cuffs around wrists. It was at that moment I realized that playtime was over.

The officer helped me to me feet and I was surrounded by a crowd of curious onlookers taking in a glimpse of the bad guys getting arrested. I looked over to see my brother Paul handcuffed up against the counter. The cashier behind the counter had a look of bewilderment and in an act of what I could only imagine was muscle memory said “here you go sir” and placed the coffee in front of him as if it was just another transaction.

The officers sat us down as a table, uncuffed us and began the very interesting conversation of explaining our zombie killing exploits. Both of them looked very confused and almost smirked as they looked upon the remains of my plastic gun. “Any other weapons?” he asked us. Paul and I looked at each other and sighed and we then began piling onto the table a cache of plastic toys that should belong to an 8 year old boy. The seriousness of the situation lessened and the two officers relaxed with the realization that we posed no threat (to humans anyway).

We threw our plastic weapons into the garbage and said good bye to the police. We were shaken but not harmed. I have been back to the zombie walk almost every year since, but every time I go I make sure keep my plastic guns at home where they belong.