Weekend at Zombies: ZomBcon Diaries, Part One

When there's no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the earth; or the Seattle Center grounds, at least.

The first ZomBcon took place in the Emerald City over Halloween weekend, and for a good-sized crowd of horror fans, obsessives, and curiosity seekers it was manna from heaven.

ZomBcon shared the same basic make-up as your typical fan con--celebrity guests; panels of authors, actors, and directors; and merchandise booths stocked to the max with apropos tchotchkes. And Seattle's already played host to some well-attended horror conventions in the last couple of years, thanks to local organizers at Crypticon. But the singularity of focus--and the quality of guests--made this one pretty unique.

Undead flesheaters have hit honest-to-God pop-culture zeitgeist status over the last few years, what with the popularity of recent reimaginings of the zombie sub-genre on film (the not-quite-a-zombie-flick 28 Days Later, Shaun of the Dead), in video games (the Resident Evil series and Left 4 Dead), and in various print incarnations (Max Brooks' World War Z and the timely spoof Pride and Prejudice and Zombies).

It turns out zombie fans in general (and ZomBcon's organizers in particular) take their walking dead seriously. In addition to seminars with the architects of fictional zombie lore, ZomBcon's crew brought along several medical experts to disseminate potential zombie outbreaks and zombie physiology in hard-line scientific fashion. Yeah, on one level it's pretty silly to hear Harvard psychiatrist Dr. Steven Schlozman wax intellectual on the mechanics of the zombie brain, but on another level, it's pretty damned cool (check out Schlozman's thoughtful thesis on said topic if you don't believe me).

Sadly, I missed the entirety of Friday October 29th's fear-stivities (note to convention organizers: Please try not to schedule your opening on a weekday). Included on Friday's roster: An opening ceremony with Evil Dead star Bruce Campbell; the aforementioned Brooks (whose World War Z is one of the leanest, meanest horror reads to greet these eyes in a long time) heading up a panel alongside Schlozman and political scholar Daniel Drezner; and a late-night screening of A Clockwork Orange hosted by Alex himself, Malcolm McDowell. Thankfully, Saturday and Sunday provided more than enough merriment to compensate.

Enclosed please find part one of My ZomBcon Diary.

Saturday, October 30:

I enter the bowels of the Pacific Northwest Ballet's Phelps Center just shy of 11 a.m., fully intending to catch as many ZomBcon events across the Seattle Center grounds as possible. But the main hall proves incredibly distracting. Zombies of various shapes and hues walk the antiseptic formica floors; playing videogames, snagging horror swag, and raising a general ruckus. And damned if the Dealers' Tables don't ensnare me, to boot.

It helps that one of the tables is manned by a true-blue fantasy lit legend. William F. Nolan was a staff writer for the original Twilight Zone, co-wrote the original novel of Logan's Run, and penned the script for the anthology TV horror flick Trilogy of Terror (remember the razor-teethed Zuni fetish doll that chased Karen Black around?) among numerous other achievements.

At my prodding he offers his insights on the film version of Logan's Run ("The first half's fun, but the last half just falls apart."), lamenting how his dark-tinted book became a sparkly-but-empty Hollywood action movie. His original concept, he states, skewed closer to the dystopian future posited by Blade Runner than the cotton-candy filmed product. In my brief chat with Nolan he also discusses screen legend Bette Davis (who appeared in the Nolan-scripted Burnt Offerings), and his literary peers and pals--Ray Bradbury and Rod Serling among them. I contemplate clubbing myself with the nearest sharp implement for not having taped my conversation with him.

The horror fan contingent's inspired a lot of accompanying merchandise, but the cottage industry that's surfaced around zombie-dom boggles the mind. Living Dead Targets manufactures paper firing-range targets; they invite conventioneers to take fake shots at zombie effigies of clowns, Adolf Hitler, and Osama bin Laden at their booth.

And once you've worked up an appetite at the faux-firing range, you can venture next door to purchase some Zombie Flesh Jerky. Matthew, the company's co-founder, puts it with eloquent directness, "You've killing all these zombies; there are all of these zombie bodies around, and there's nothing to eat; so we started a recipe for cooking zombies." The jerky comes in two flavors--spicy and teriyaki--and the company also puts out Zombie Brain Sweet Tea ("with aloe vera and lychee fruit on the bottom. It's a really disgusting-looking drink, but it tastes great!" Matthew assures me gleefully). 

Across the aisle from the folks at Zombie Flesh Jerky dwells another sample of truly strange bedfellows--the walking dead and cage fighters--uniting. Ultimate Fighting Championship star Nathan "Rock" Quarry paired his love of cage fighting with his fondness for the undead to produce Zombie Cage Fighter, a nascent franchise he hopes to take to a theater or TV near you. "It just made sense to me," he says. "I've been a fan of zombies and sci-fi all my life; and one day the idea of fighting a zombie in a cage just kind of hit me." 

He's written a film script based around the concept, is shopping the property as a possible animated series, and has just launched a line of merchandise. Quarry thaws my skepticism with his earnestness, and he's actually put a lot of thought into Zombie Cage Fighter: He addresses the slow-zombie vs. fast-zombie debate in the context of his manufactured universe with eloquence (these things MATTER, folks), and he comes by his geekdom honestly, rhapsodizing about the TV adaptation of one of his favorite comics, The Walking Dead. 

The most epic dealer's table saga, however, went to Don Myers of T-Shirt Bordello. Myers, a tall, genial southerner sporting some seriously impressive undead make-up (or was it make-up?) relates how he drove his stockpile of merch (original T-shirts emblazioned with clever horror and cult movie references) from St. Petersburg, Florida to Seattle in a Zombie Extermination Van. The vehicle takes a prominent quadrant of the Hall, and the devil's in its details: The perky graphics and slogans emblazoned on the vehicle's surface ape those of any conventional business vehicle to an hilarious T.

But the merchandise booths represent just a small portion of the shenanigans in store at ZomBcon, as I soon discover. The celebrity guests at ZomBcon prove to be enough to make any fanboy salivate. Stay tuned, or as legendary horror director George Romero likes to say, Stay Scared...