[ WP ] Dyslexic zombies rise from the dead , searching for `` Brians ''

Brian ran forward, the beating of his heart ringing in his ears. 
 
 Running – that ’ s all he ’ s been doing since the apocalypse started. Zombies were nothing like what they portrayed in the movies. They were relentless, fearful abominations of God. 
 
 And they were dyslexic. 
 
 At least, that was the case for the ones Brian had seen thus far. When he crossed their field of vision, their decayed jaws would unhinge, releasing the guttural noises like a broken floodgate. But they didn ’ t call for brains like he was accustomed to hearing. They called his name. 
 
 He didn ’ t understand why or how a mistake like that arose considering they were undead but there was no point in questioning logic when the reanimated corpses walked the earth. Everyone he knew was safe except for them and that was all that mattered. 
 
 The Brian-less, as they had deemed themselves in the last year, had lived lives not much different than before the shit hit the fan. At worse, the zombies were only an inconvenience to their daily rituals. As long as someone watched for them on the road, they could even forget they were there. After all, as a Brian-less, they had no worries. Their names gave them safety. 
 
 Meanwhile, the name Brian had been sullied for the rest of eternity. In a month of the apocalypse, it had dropped in popularity in the entire world to just a handful of cases for stubborn or ignorant parents. Those who had the misfortune of having the name before were ostracized by society, never to be affiliated with again. 
 
 And that was the situation Brian had found himself in. He was cold, alone, and ambushed in a dark alley. When he reached the end of it, he was disappointed to find a large brick wall, much too climb. It looked like it was the end of the road. 
 
 He turned back to his pursuers, the little cloud of his condescended breath the only thing he could see in the murky darkness. He heard groans and feet dragging across the ground, a sign that they were not far behind. Holding his breath, he waited for his end. 
 
 “ *Brians*, ” the voices echoed in a haunting cacophony of moans. 
 
 Brian flinched. After years of running, he still wasn ’ t used to their siren call. When the first came out of the shadows, he could feel the bile rise in his throat, a bitter taste filling his mouth. Its arms reached out for him, as if forcing him to accept his death. 
 
 “ *Brians*. ” 
 
 Brian closed his eyes in hopes of making it easier. But when he did, he didn ’ t find solace. An idea donned on him. An idea that would save his life if he was lucky. 
 
 “ *Brians. * ” The zombie now had its hands on him, opening its mouth for the fatal bite. Brian, too, opened his mouth, his voice quaking with fear. 
 
 “ No, I ’ m Tom. ” 
 
 The zombie stopped, just before ripping him to shreds. Its milky white eyes scanned him for an uncomfortable amount of time. Meanwhile, it kept its decayed mouth open, the putrid small of what were once other Brians wafting in the air. Brian did not budge an inch, waiting on bated breath. 
 
 And to his surprise, the zombie let go of his clothes and turned around, immersing itself in the darkness once more. The others followed its lead, their moans dying off into the night. He was a free man, no longer knocking on death ’ s doorstep. He had unlocked the secret to stopping the apocalypse for his fellow Brians. 
 
 For he was no longer Brian, he was Tom.
