As long as the emergency horns give us enough lead time to make it down to the basement, I realize we should be fine! The basement is actually a functional nuclear fallout shelter as well, with thick steel doors and industrial bolts and electricity and no windows. Then we just let the Swiss militia get down to business, and wait it out. The zombies have no chance against the soldiers.
Swiss citizens are asked to keep provisions in their shelters in the case of nuclear disaster, and I have seen that my neighbors do. It seems paranoid, and yet somehow, wise. I intend to do it too, but momentarily all I have is a six pack of liter water bottles. Our section is full of luggage and dog carriers, and about 40 boxes of my husband's research life on paper, waiting for the genius organization and tabulation system I have devised to be applied to it. I have not put any noodles down there yet.
As I see it, as soon as we hear sirens, we grab the dogs, and if there is time, cel phones and chargers, and a laptop and charger too, and go down. I think I could out run one zombie, but I worry about being cornered. Also, Moses the dog cannot run and Girl the dog would try to attack, and the last thing I need would be to get all sentimental over some zombie Chow Chow. No. We stay.
I do need to communicate this plan to all my neighbors ahead of time, and it would be a good idea to get a telephone-tree in place so we can know when we have everyone that is coming down there, before we lock up. We probably need a password or a secret knock.
Maybe if I have a chance to grab some groceries or liquor on the way down I should. And the coffee, kettle and french press. And dogfood. We will be pretty much at the mercy of my neighbors otherwise, and it's always better if you have something to share too, other than dog poo. Poo bags. I should grab those too.
Eh. Zombies. What a hassle.
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