Baby Zombie Walk


Photos and story by Rachel Tinney

‘Twas the week before Halloween, when all through the city not a man was alive, not even a kiddy.

Like a scene straight out of Hollywood, over 10,000 zombies moaned, limped and grumbled down the streets of Brisbane last weekend in search of brains. Meeting in the dead centre of town (Wickham Park to be exact), they left a trail of bloodshed, limbs and echoing screams in their wake as the undead slowly ambled towards Fortitude Valley – a place well-know to harbour brainless punters on a Saturday night.

There were the usual zombie brides, zombie prostitutes and zombie “I’m not trashy if I’m covered in blood” types. And then there were the more creative: a zombie Storm Trooper, a zombie Viking, zombie Avatars and a fair few zombie Wallys (I found him, many times).

But while the amount of fake blood would rival that used in ‘Dead Alive’, the Brisbane Zombie Walk was less along the lines of ‘Dawn of the Dead’ and more like baby ‘Zombieland’.

The Walk is youth orientated (let’s face it, not too many self-respecting businessmen willingly cover themselves in fake blood on a Sunday afternoon) but there were an astounding number of undead children –undead children who did not look happy. Either these children were brilliant actors or they had been dragged out of their peaceful graves by parents willing to show off their Halloween costumes a week early.

In a scene that would make child safety officers question their motives, children and babies were the perfect accessory to complete mum or dad’s outfit. While some just got to experience the joys of make-up and talcum powder, others got to delight in being doused in fake blood and gore.

The youngest of the young, wearing mummy’s make-up or half a bottle of tomato sauce, sat peering from their strollers, intrigued and confused by the scene playing out in front of them. Others, perhaps future academy award winners, became the perfect dead addition by sleeping through the walk.

One mother, pushing a blood-soaked stroller, screamed: “I can get him to eat pork, chicken and beef but when I give him human, he won’t eat it! What’s wrong with him?!” Her son sat oblivious to her demands, wide-eyed and gently holding onto the thumb of a bloody, severed human hand.

The older children (ones easily embarrassed by mum and dad) marched robotically beside their parents, eyes downcast, hoping beyond hope no one they knew saw their mother in something she should’ve stopped wearing ten years ago.  But the younger ones were slightly more fascinated by the wave of zombies. One boy, armed with a toy gun and intent on ending the apocalypse on his own, was delighted by the many dramatic deaths he witnessed due to his own careful aim.

Another child, this one armed with a chainsaw, hacked at anyone within reach and seemed intent on killing undead Dorothy’s dog, Toto.

Since 2006, the Brisbane Zombie Walk has brought people back from the dead to raise awareness for the Brain Foundation and this year was the biggest awakening yet, doubling in capacity and raising more than $10,000.




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