Haifa, Israel

[As we sat on the terrace of his house, Yosef Yishai snubbed the remaining butt of his Cuban cigarette in an ashtray. He was about to pick another one out of a carton, but declined. When we spoke on the phone, he seemed reluctant to meet with me. But he budged after my third try, and invited me to his home.]

Some people call me a traitor. Some people call me a hero. I am neither. I was simply doing what was ordered and expected of me, as of any Israeli... indeed, any Jew. It was my second year in the Border Police. I was a corporal by then, though it didn't make much of a difference. All that mattered was finishing my mandatory, three-year service alive.

We had a lot to deal with: suicide bombers, in particular. They would always try to smuggle themselves across the checkpoints. There were women who tried to look pregnant. You know, there was one case: she didn't know she was being used! Her, er... brother, I think, told her it was something else. A present. Well, fortunately, we searched her and disabled the explosive.

Obviously, it wasn't like they were all just naive and unsuspecting. A lot of them were brainwashed from childhood. There was this one kid, only thirteen, who carried a bomb underneath his shirt. I don't know why he did what he did... but, well, anyway, about a hundred yards from the checkpoint in Hebron, he simply revealed it. He demanded we get back, or else he'd detonate. My sergeant, Mikhail, calmed him down and we brought in a specialist to take care of it.

Now, it wasn't like the Arabs... Palestinians, excuse me, were the only problem. The settlers were pretty much a problem on their own. They often vandalized churches and mosques, especially around holidays like Christmas or Ramadan. They'd stone any one Palestinian who even so much glared at them. And the funny thing is, they didn't like us. I mean [chuckles] we were there to protect them! And yet, they thought we were "heretic" simply because we didn't exterminate the entire Arab population.

Now, don't get me wrong: I wasn't one of those leftists, calling for the end of the "occupation." my father served in the `67 war, in the Golan. It was on the third day of fighting when a bullet grazed his shoulder, and he spent over two weeks in a hospital. He taught me that it was our land, and I believed him. To be frank, I still do. But after all of the slurs coming from those Haredi bastards, I didn't feel bad about telling them that it's time to leave.

"Nazi!" they shouted. "Go to hell, we're not going anywhere!" and to be fair, I could still emphasize. After all, a lot of them were second or third generation settlers. They were born there, they were raised there... a lot of them were children. I guess, it was wrong to force them out in a way. But what could we have to done?

How long before you found out about the outbreak?

I heard rumors, like everybody else... ghost stories, here and there. Something in China, something in South Africa, something on a plane. I didn't believe them, and neither did my comrades. "I wonder what they're high on," said a private named Yael. "I should get their number." oh yes, Yael... she was a joker. We all liked her. [sighs]

It was after we announced the quarantine at the UN, and the subsequent withdrawal, that things really went to hell. I mean, even though we were basically locking ourselves in a box, we had things under control! You know how bad it was in other places! We were the first to prepare! And we did let some people in, including Arabs!

We thought the Arabs would rebel. I mean, now there were God knows how many entering Israel. "They have the numbers," warned some MKs from the religious parties. "Now it's only a matter of time before they take us arms and throw the lot of us into he Mediterranean!" but as you know, there was no Arab uprising.

There were speculations: some reports by lieutenants, captains, majors. Newspaper columnists here and there wrote editorials about a "trend" of Jewish fanaticism. But no one listened... and well, should we have? We had to deal with the living dead, for God's sake! We didn't have time to worry about some disgruntled ex-settlers.

Our unit was at the border with the recently-evacuated West Bank, inspecting Jews and Palestinians who wished to cash in our promise for safe haven. It was then that we heard over the radio about attacks in Tel-Aviv, but we put it aside. "Just another Arab." we concurred. But pretty soon, it was clear that it wasn't Palestinian jihadists. As soon as we came to that realization, they came for us.

They carried stones for the most part, like in a normal riot. We were able to eliminate those first ones, and pretty soon reinforcements arrived. We thought it wasn't going to amount to anything. But pretty soon, more came, but this time carrying Uzis and fucking bazookas! I took one of them down, two to the chest. It seemed that he was alive, though it was clear he wasn't going to make it. His last words were, "Don't let them in."

What about the rest of the civil war?

I got through it... that's all that matters. And so did a few of us. Once that was over, I went back to focusing on my duties on the border. I spent a lot more time on the watchtower, gunning down zombies that tried to climb. It quickly became automatic, a natural response. Like breathing... I didn't have to think... sometimes, it's better not to think.

[Suddenly, he decides to have another cigarette. He slowly puts it between his lips and lights it with a customized lighter.]

They say the war ended... I don't think so, and I'm going to bet that you don't, either. The, er... multinational task force is still fighting those reanimated fuckers in Canada, Scandinavia, Russia. There are those that walk the bottom of the ocean, others that just climb onto ships... [chuckles] I wonder how that's like...

There are no sightings here, fortunately. The Palestinians aren't reporting any, either. The UN is saying that there will be no more zombies in ten years! Can you believe that? Well... I guess no one can truly believe that. One way or another, there will be one zombie who will somehow survive, stay somewhere still for thirty years, and then wake up and start it all over again.

But we're preparing aren't we? I mean-

"Preparing?" you know what, now we're preparing. But what about our next generation? Or the one after that? Will they be prepared? Eventually, it will seem that there will be no more of them, and the world will be happy. They'll start to forget, and then when the next outbreak hits them [sighs] I hope they'll read this book of yours.