Zombie Survival Map: The Only Google Map You’ll Eventually Need

After the outbreak, turn-by-turn directions to Michelin-level dining just didn’t have the same flare.

Zombie Survival Map: The Only Google Map You’ll Eventually Need

I remember a simpler time. A time when a trip to Costco was a frolic, the only challenge was filling the minivan with microwavable hors d’oeuvres without removing the baby seat.

After the outbreak, everything changed. I saw a man murdered for the last box of mini quiches, a soggy thing soaked in its own condensation. While I’d like to consider myself a better man, I hid underneath a set of 50%-off patio furniture during the whole scene, clutching an oversized three-pack of Heinz close to my chest. Was the red on my flannel his blood, my blood, or a just bottle I squeezed too hard? I didn’t know. I don’t ever want to know.

A bit of me died that day, but my family has feasted on ketchup soup for a week since. We’re the lucky ones.

Click to see the map.

Thank goodness we have this Map of the Dead: Zombie Survival Map that shows me the locations of the bare apocalypse essentials like military academies, convenience stores, and cemeteries. I think it was a promotional Google Maps augmentation back in the day, you know, before zombie Sergey Brin announced that merger with zombie Tim Cook and ate Mark Zuckerberg. Larry Page could only look on, his hermetically sealed skin preventing the flow of tears down his glossy cheeks. None of us in the media understood Google’s acquisition of that Japanese Saran Wrap competitor until it was too late, well, too late for everyone but Page. (Rumor has it, Microsoft’s R&D division had developed the Zombie Seal™ technology two decades earlier, but nobody ever bothered bringing it to market.)

Not that any of it matters now anyway. My 401k tanked, as it wasn’t invested nearly enough in Cold War era technologies. And a half-eaten box of Suzy Qs can buy you just about any startup in the Valley, even Instagram.

So yeah, I guess we all long for the simpler days. But unless you’ve got keys to a time machine and the cure for green Jello, I’ll settle for a pack of those Ikea batteries and as much Febreze as you can spare. And in case these are my last words, I’ll admit it: That ketchup? Yeah, it was probably blood.

About the author

Mark Wilson is a writer who started Philanthroper.com, a simple way to give back every day. His work has also appeared at Gizmodo, Kotaku, PopMech, PopSci, Esquire, American Photo and Lucky Peach.



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