Arts & Culture
Photo courtesy of Liz Mancl
ZOMMMBBIIIEEESSS
The Pointer
nmeye77@uwsp.edu
As I approached the parking lot behind the Collins Classroom Center, my stomach clenched with anxiety. I was heading toward a group of about 40 zombies, pale-faced and bloody, getting ready to take over the streets of Stevens Point this Halloween. Under the golden glow of the streetlights, I saw them there, standing quietly, smoking, awaiting the bugle call. Some of them practiced the only line a zombie has ever screeched, “BRRRAAAAINNNS.”
Members of the Infinite Kicks Art Collective had been getting the word out for weeks trying to make this “zombie shamble” as they had been calling it, an undeniable force on Halloween night. Turns out bringing together people over their love for zombies isn’t that hard. Zombie walks like this one take place all over the world, from right here in Wisconsin all the way to Finland.
I quietly placed myself at the back of the group of stagnant zombies, and waited for something to happen. I began taking pictures of unsuspecting zombies and no one really paid attention; for the moment these zombies weren’t interested in people, only other zombies.
The whole thing was rather curious to me. I haven’t dressed up for a few years, though tonight I donned a blazer, an aviator hat and a tie that screamed “Slovakia” down the front, and called it a costume. I had lost my enthusiasm for Halloween after my first semester in college. It doesn’t take much imagination to buy a costume from Wal-Mart, throw it on and drink.
The hoard of zombies reached about 40 at its peak and consisted of college students and high school kids connected in their desire to march around in a fictional search for brains to devour. I chatted with a few people I knew about the scene and the infectious feeling of excitement all around. Then suddenly the quiet murmur of voices was brought to an abrupt end by an over powering voice.
“Okay zombies, these are your victims, you can chase them, but no biting unless you know them, or have been granted permission, we’re going to start walking this way, so let’s go, and remember, SLOW! We aren’t ‘28 Days Later’ zombies,” said Josephine Yanasak-Leszczynski.
She screamed the directions to make sure they reached every last undead ear. Josephine, a member of Infinite Kicks Art Collective was largely responsible for the scene; she had done much of the work for the shamble though the idea began with other Infinite Kicks members Jesse Nowacyzk and Jason Loeffler. Dressed in a black and white dress adorned with sparse droplets of blood it was clear what her role for the night would be: Queen zombie.
Josephine finished rousing the crowd, and the zombies began sluggishly moving down Isadore toward Portage Street, hot on the trails of their victims, whose screams resounded through the night. Zombies and victims – these kids were committed, their imaginations fertile. There were all types of zombies: a Jesus zombie, a John F. Kennedy zombie, a doctor zombie, an 80s themed zombie and costumes that were no doubt zombified for the event.
The hoard devoured their first victim outside the Noel Fine Arts Center. Beyond the zombie sounds the only other thing you could hear was laughter. There were no other Halloween revelers to be seen, until the shamble turned onto Phillips Street.
From the dim glow of a streetlight, I watched their slothful progress, when from behind me, came a sudden rush of bright lights that lit up their bloody faces. It was the zombies’ first encounter with a car. The zombies tried their cumbersome best to move out of the way, some a bit faster than others. The victims screamed for the car’s occupants to help them, but the car just inched forward, with people looking very puzzled inside. The cries for brains, and the cries for help fighting against each other, carried on.
The shamble took a turn down College Avenue and Queen zombie again addressed her hoard of the smiling undead.
“ZOMBIES, this way, we need to go one more block; remember stay together,” said Queen zombie.
I understood her logic; small groups of zombies aren’t nearly the same force. For a moment the hoard stalled and for the first time I realized how cold it was outside. Again I thought “these kids are committed.” The hoard began to approach Main Street. I had fallen behind and watched as zombies began crossing the street. Cars began honking their horns; to this day I’m still unsure if it was a warning or a sign of appreciation. People in houses came to their windows to witness the sight, five people in one house packed into a bay window to take it all in.
The hoard was momentarily separated into two groups, as they took their time crossing the busy thoroughfare. By this time, all of the “victims” had been devoured at least once. The shamble finally came to rest at the ShopKo parking lot and then turned toward the Afterdark for the evening’s main event, a Zombie prom. As soon as most of the Zombies were inside, the first band kicked in, perfectly on cue. Zombies danced. Zombies gyrated. Zombies lined up for zombie prom photos, breaking into bloody zombie smiles. I looked around at all these happy zombies, delighted to step out of themselves if only for a few hours on Halloween night. And, for the first time in four years, I realized, imagination on Halloween is alive and well.
