A Lack of Corners - IB LA 11 Personal Essay BklTYr4


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 A Lack of Corners - IB LA 11 Personal Essay

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A Lack of Corners - IB LA 11 Personal Essay Empty
PostSubject: A Lack of Corners - IB LA 11 Personal Essay   A Lack of Corners - IB LA 11 Personal Essay EmptySat Oct 08, 2011 9:17 pm

A Lack of Corners
There’s sweat raining down my neck. I can’t breathe. My legs feel like lead as I hustle up the staircase to the next floor. “I think I hear something!” I whisper hoarsely, quickly turning to Robin. My not-so-loyal best friend readies his blaster, preparing for the worst. I take out a sock and turn my Nerf Blaster’s automatic firing mechanism on. Within a matter of seconds, two Zombies have descended upon us, heads ablaze with orange bandanas. I chuck my sock at one; Robin quickly follows suit and fires off a few darts at the other. The threat was subdued just as quickly as it had showed itself. The Zombies quickly whip out their stopwatches and begin the one minute countdown as we rush to get out of their way and back on track. Sweat continues to pour down my neck as I cautiously check corners and reload my blaster in case of another ambush.
Oh, and have I mentioned this is just a friendly game of Humans versus Zombies? Yup, just survival-tag with Nerf Blasters.
Have to hurry. There’s no telling when a zombie might spring out on us. As we head down the 400 hall in search of spare ammo, we pass another group of humans struggling to survive with a couple of near-empty Mavericks, with probably only one or two shots per blaster; to make it worse, those dumb 6-dart blasters are already notorious for randomly misfiring. Just a couple of useless pieces of Zombie-bait to Robin and I, especially considering there’s a few hungry Zombies about 10 yards away with 45 seconds left on their timers. Only reason to protect them would to be to prevent the Zombie Virus from spreading, but it would be a waste of ammo. Last person standing wins; that person needs a whole lot of ammo. With that lone reason failing to persuade us, we continue on our way to the Student Center.
“Watch out for the Zombies behind you. They’ve only got half a minute left before re-spawn.” I snap at them. “Better get outta here.”
As far as either of us knows, about 25 of the 40 students in this game are now zombies, which -of course- leaves 15 humans to fend them off. Our current goal is to last the next hour or so without being brutally murdered – and by that I mean tagged and turned undead – by a ravenous and rather ingenious hoard of Zombies who seem to have more brains than they should be allowed. We’ve been cunningly ambushed countless times, and the Zombies tend to travel in small squads made up of a scout (also known as “Human-bait”), a runner, and a stealth-Zombie. You’ll never see a lone Zombie around here, save for the beginning of the game when the Original Zombie initiates its hunt.
Wait - some terrified shrieks, a couple of blaster shots, and some maniacal laughter just came from behind us. Guess the Zombie-bait’s been finished off.
“CRAP!” Robin suddenly exclaims, leaping backwards and struggling to draw a sock from his pocket with his free hand (which he shouldn’t have in the first place; his blaster is two-handed). It seems he forgot to check his corners and a Zombie managed to rush him from his left (my right, as I was the rear guard). “SOCK, NOW!” he insists. I immediately comply and hurl the sock in my left hand between the undead and the living beside me, narrowly hitting the Zombie across the shoulder. Almost that same instant the rest of its troupe appeared out of nowhere and began making passes at us. Three more Zombies to stun, only two socks and around 70 darts between the two of us (30 loaded, 40 spare in my pockets). Not good odds with Zombies this close. We decide to make a break for it. I reach into my pocket and scatter a handful of darts around us (contact with an ungrounded dart for any reason counts as a stun for Zombies), and we escape amidst confusion and the high-pitched bleeps made by stopwatches. This was the most narrow escape we’d made all game, and we both hope we won’t have to do it again. Considering I just clumsily tossed about 15 darts to stun a handful of Zombies, doing it again with a larger group would undoubtedly end less pleasantly, for either ourselves or our ammo supply.
“How about we stay in the more open areas now?” I sarcastically suggest. “You know, ones that don’t have corners with Zombies hiding behind them.” Robin checks around for other ambush-ready Zombies then cautiously turns to me and replies “This is Fairview, Ethan. There’s no such thing as a lack of corners.”
We pause for a moment to admire the wittiness of his comment before continuing up the ramp on the even side of the school. Unbeknownst to us, most of the Zombie team had just started hoarding up in the 600 hall and was heading straight for us, as if they were bent on the destruction and devouring of the entire remaining Human population like a starved and crazed pack of Velociraptors hunting their prey to extinction. As we move up towards the intersection of the ramp and the 600 hall, the sound of dozens of reckless Zombies pounding their feet against the carpet in a rush to intercept our advance becomes apparent. Sweat flows down my neck in torrential downpours. My gasps for air are in vain. My legs feel like lead as a single thought pops into our heads: Run.

_____________________________________________________________

This was an essay for my IB LA 11 class. We had to do an essay on basically anything that related to us, and the only thing I could think of was a game of Humans versus Zombies.

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