Platform B bus station 

You stand at Platform B bus station. Not a good idea. Screaming commuters race up the stairs, chased by walking carcasses – blood-stained and oozing green slime. People spew out into the mall – wounded, screaming. You’re convinced the city is infected – it has to be. Zombies are here. But how?

Mary tugs on your hand. “Where to now?”

The pain in your ankle isn’t as distracting as the thousands of hungry shoppers coming towards you. They’re not here to shop for clothes, you think. They’ll want a foot-long meatball Sub right about now. And if you don’t move soon, you’ll be the meatballs.

You recognise one of the stumbling figures. Your Uni friend, Shane. As he walks towards you, he stops and slowly turns around. You watch in horror as he pounces an old man, riding him piggyback, before ripping at his ear with his teeth. The ear pops off and splats on the ground. Bile rises up in your throat and you clap your hand over your mouth. This can’t be happening!

“Do you know him?” Mary asks.

“No!” you say adamantly. Shane never acted like this. He was in your bioscience class last year studying Medicine. You changed to art. Stitching people up wasn’t really going to be your thing.

“We need to go that way,” you say, pushing Mary along the mall. Head away from the death groans rising out of the bus station, and from Shane…

“But that’s not the way to the Gardens. We need to go that way.” Mary points East, but the mall is a chaotic mess of blood and limping bodies. Which way should you go? Going to the Gardens could be a death trap. What if you help Mary find her parents, and you become their lunch…Your throat feels dry, and your head dizzy. The scratch on your ankle throbs. Is Mary more dangerous than you realise?

Butterfly Facade: If you regret your decision to help Mary, and think you can ditch her somewhere, go South on the mall and turn East into Albert Street. Walk until you reach  Albert Lane (53 Albert Street), where the flowers blend from orange to black in the glass canopy above your head.

Or

Waterography: If you can’t stand your dry throat, and your conscience won’t let you ditch Mary, go to the one art piece that comes to your mind: Waterography art piece – a building façade on 128 Charlotte Street. Maybe you’ll be safe there, if you can convince security to lock the door.