A full-on, no-joke zombie apocalypse has begun right here in San Francisco. The dead have risen and are overrunning our fair city with their shambling brew of moans, viscera, and chaos. Car alarms blare, screams echo through empty streets, fires rage. And still they come.
Got your attention? Good, because this is not a drill, people! (Except for the part about the undead currently existing. That was 100 percent drill.) Regardless, we are here to discuss something vitally important — your zombie preparedness plan. To wit: What is it?
Hmm, I’m hearing mostly chuckles and uncomfortable silence, but not much in the way of A+ anti-zombie strategy. I might be a Pollyanna, but you could be lunch! Do you even think about this stuff at all?
Well, you’re in luck, because I have — a lot. And so has Atlanta-based documentarian Jon Hurst, whose amazing short film When the Zombies Come explores the laudably thorough anti-zombie planning of several Ace Hardware employees. When I wrote to Jon for advice, he kept it simple: “Just like any survival, you need water, food, shelter, and security.”
Jon’s choice for the most zombie-proof locale in SF: Treasure Island. “In case of a zombie outbreak, I’d strongly suggest heading to Treasure Island and shut down the main access point into the island. First, head to the water treatment plant — yes, it might smell like poop. Get over it. From there, sit back, drink some non-poop water and start cracking skulls with the tools that are left around. Next up is the most important thing for surviving the apocalypse: alcohol. Take over Treasure Island Wines. Then you need to clear the island of any zombies — this will take some time. Next, set up a roadblock at the entrance of the island. Lastly and most importantly, drink the wine for the antioxidants and — because you lived.”
I couldn’t agree more. So, in the interest of civic well-being, let’s take a little spin around San Francisco and identify a few of the best — and worst — places to ride out a zombie invasion. Which, just to be clear, COULD TOTALLY HAPPEN AT ANY MOMENT. Each location will be evaluated by its score (0 being the worst, 10 being the best) on the Romerometer, the undisputed, international measuring scale of zombiology.
When it comes to the living dead, I’m a strict classicist. So for the purposes of this article “zombies” refers to the genus found in the films of George A. Romero. These zombies can walk slowly, smash things, and — as we discovered in later Romero work — swim (although they avoid water when they can). But they don’t run, they don’t have fine motor skills, and they certainly don’t fall in love!
When my wise editor Sarah first proposed this story to me, she mentioned Alcatraz as a candidate for the best spot to wait out zombies. I agreed with her, at first. But then I started doing some more research and realized that we were very, very wrong.
Consider this: When the dead start to rise, the last place you want to be is a cemetery. And if you’re avoiding cemeteries, why would you voluntarily maroon yourself on an island that’s host to a cemetery filled with the corpses of the very worst criminals the twentieth century had to offer? That’s madness! Yes, many of Alcatraz’s dead were buried on nearby Angel Island, but since nobody lives there, and the Rock lies in between Angel and SF, don’t you think they’ll be in the mood for a homecoming? And did I just come up with an amazing idea for a sequel to The Rock? Your answers to the above queries: you wouldn’t; yes; fuck yes.
Romerometer Score: 0.1 (BRAINS! BRAINS! BRAINS!)
Tons of entrances. Backed up on the bay, so there’s no escape. Always insanely crowded inside and out. Face it, your gustatory dreams of riding out these zombies with some of the best food San Francisco has to offer would fast become the stuff of a Grand Guignol nightmare. And the shame of getting eaten by zombie tourists? Let’s just move on.
Romerometer Score: 1.2 (THEY’VE GOT ME!!!)
Sure, it makes sense at first. While everyone else is closing themselves up in basements and towers, you’ll survive by going into the wilderness. (Or at least what rates as wilderness in a major metropolitan area.) The zombies will be drawn to population centers while you find a beautiful kind of freedom, living in a tree house, drinking sweet rainwater, communing with brother fox and sister bison.
Wake up, hippie! Those animals will be undead too! And do you really want to mess with a zombison? No. Thank. You.
Romerometer Score: 3.5 (STAMPEDE)
At first glance, the Elysium of the Mission would not appear to offer much chance of survival once the dead start to rise. But just think for a second about what Dolores looks like on any sunny day. Huge crowds of people with varying levels of personal hygiene and fashion sense, who are predominantly drunk and/or stoned, all stumbling around and yelling for hash truffles. The zombies will definitely think everyone is already infected! Are Mission hipsters merely lazy and dirty or are they sneakily readying themselves for the living dead?
Romerometer Score: 4.8 (SAFETY IN NUMBERS, ALSO NUMBNESS)
Any discussion of likely HQs for zombie survival has to mention San Francisco’s best and only bowling alley on a decommissioned military base. It’s just intuitive. Strong construction, few windows, solid onion rings. The Presidio Bowl makes its own case. Other survivors might be crowding into the old barracks, the Officers’ Club, and whatnot, but you’ll be trying to pick up a 7–10 split while you order another round.
Romerometer Score: 6.3 (SPARE)
The natural impulse in any disaster is to head for higher ground. But why settle for Coit Tower’s sparse, cramped digs, or Sutro Tower’s complete lack of digs, when you could wait out the zombies in a world-renowned bar atop Nob Hill? Let others deal with boarding up windows and other banal tasks. You’ll be too busy sampling 100 variations of martinis in AAA Four-Diamond luxury.
Romerometer Score: 8.7 (BOTTOMS UP)
Here it is, the pinnacle of anti-zombie living in San Francisco. This 100 percent actual castle, complete with six-story tower, was built as a brewery in 1870. Why a brewery? Because it sits on caves that hold a freaking aquifer that produces 10,000 gallons of spring water per day! Now the site holds a spacious (and well appointed!) four-bedroom, two-bath apartment. Albion was almost bulldozed for a highway back in 1961, but the city saved it because it was thought its water source would be needed in the event of a nuclear attack. In other words, I’ve made my case.
Romerometer Score: 9.9 (GAME. SET. CASTLE.)
Can you think of any great or terrible spots I missed? Let me know about them in the comments below. And include your Romerometer scores, please!
