I'm getting popcorn.

The movie was playing early, so Jess thought we should hit the twilight showing and eat later. I was
happy to go along with whatever she wanted; after all, I was getting what I wanted—Charlie off my
back.

I kept Jess talking through the previews, so I could ignore them more easily. But I got nervous when the
movie started. A young couple was walking along a beach, swinging hands and discussing their mutual
affection with gooey falseness. I resisted the urge to cover my ears and start humming. I had not
bargained for a romance.

"I thought we picked the zombie movie," I hissed to Jessica.

"This is the zombie movie."

"Then why isn't anyone getting eaten?" I asked desperately.

She looked at me with wide eyes that were almost alarmed. "I'm sure that part's coming," she whispered.

"I'm getting popcorn. Do you want any?"

"No, thanks."

Someone shushed us from behind.

I took my time at the concession counter, watching the clock and debating what percentage of a
ninety-minute movie could be spent on romantic exposition. I decided ten minutes was more than enough,
but I paused just inside the theater doors to be sure. I could hear horrified screams blaring from the
speakers, so I knew I'd waited long enough.

"You missed everything," Jess murmured when I slid back into my seat. "Almost everyone is a zombie
now."

"Long line." I offered her some popcorn. She took a handful.

The rest of the movie was comprised of gruesome zombie attacks and endless screaming from the
handful of people left alive, their numbers dwindling quickly. I would have thought there was nothing in
that to disturb me. But I felt uneasy, and I wasn't sure why at first.

It wasn't until almost the very end, as I watched a haggard zombie shambling after the last shrieking
survivor, that I realized what the problem was. The scene kept cutting between the horrified face of the
heroine, and the dead, emotionless face of her pursuer, back and forth as it closed the distance.