My introduction to the idea of a zombie apocalypse came early, as I was not yet four years old when my parents loaded my older sis (who was six) and me into the back seat of the family car and headed off to the local drive-in to see Night of the Living Dead. We watched the terror unfold as most children do, with our eyes peeping through our fingers, and frightened squeals spluttering from behind our palms. At random moments, my mother would take exception to some grotesquery and slap at our heads, ordering us to “get down, don’t look!” which would prompt my sister to assert herself as the elder sibling by shoving a pillow over my face – ostensibly to protect me…
