October 14, 2012 : THE GROUP IS BROKEN

The date? Just days away. It is a significant date. Why? The Walking Dead’s Season 3 premieres. If you are a zombie fanatic—no, no—a Walking Dead Fanatic, then you have been counting down the days from last season’s season finale.

Starting October 14, 2012, I will be blogging live during the show, and every Sunday evening. The blog will consist of personal commentary, descriptions and my interpretation of what is to come.

*NOTE, I have not read the graphic novels. I do not know what some people “know”, and prefer to guess. So my predictions may be way off base. But whatever. Additionally, feel free to comment, ask questions, or add info!

In preparation of Sunday’s Main Event, I wanted to provide a list of Main and Recurring Characters for quick reference and review the last few episodes of Season 2.

Rick Grimes—The Sheriff, and main character (Andrew Lincoln)

Lori Grimes—The Sheriff’s wife (Sarah Wayne Callies)

Carl Grimes—The Sheriff’s son, becoming slightly annoying (Chandler Riggs)

Andrea—The Blond, who gets tougher and tougher (Laurie Holden)

Glen—Dating Maggie Greene, Hershel’s daughter (Steven Yeun)

Dayrl Dixon—Perhaps my favorite Redneck with a Crossbow (Norman Reedus)

Hershel Greene—Maggie’s father, and owner of the farm (Scott Wilson)

Carol Peletier—Sophia’s Mom. Enough said, possible love interest to Dayrl  (Melissa McBride)

T-Dog—A very, very underdeveloped character, a shame (IronE Singleton)

… And those who were significant and died …

Shane Walsh—The Sheriff’s one-time best friend (Jon Bernthal)

Dale Horvath—The Conscience of the group (Jeffrey DeMunn)

RECAP(ish):

When Randall is captured, and held captive in the barn on Hershel’s farm, the group is shocked to learn that he consorts with a group of more than 30 armed men. They’ve killed and raped. Clearly dangerous, and obviously holed up somewhere close to the farm, a decision is made to terminate Randall. The only one opposed to the execution is Dale. The constant, numbing voice of reason.

When Dale is subsequently attacked by a Walker, and dies, to honor his memory the group agrees to let Randall go. They’ll drive him off and leave him somewhere far, far from the farm. Shane, sensing this is a bad idea, leads Randall into the woods and snaps his neck. Unfortunately, despite not having been bitten or scratched by a Walker, Randall turns.

Rick confronts Shane. He knows Shane plans to murder him. The truth is, Rick knows that Shane is out of control. Going insane. And in turn, that he must kill Shane. A knife to the chest does the trick and Shane dies. Sort of . . .

When Rick turns and see his son, Carl, witnessed Shane’s murder—like Randall, without having been bitten or scratched by a Walker, Shane turns—he is stunned to find Carl pointing a gun at him. When Carl fires the gun, it is not Rick who is shot. It’s Shane. A bullet to the head.

The gunfire attracts the Walkers in the area. The farm is surrounded. The group scrambles to get away. Some are killed. Andrea is left behind. Most reunite on the main road

Rick is forced to tell the group two things. The guy at the CDC confided in him before the place exploded that EVERYONE has the Walker virus. When you die (of “natural” causes), you will turn into a Walker. No way around it. And two, this is no longer a democracy. He’s in charge. Like it, or not.

Andrea, alone in the woods, is almost taken down. She is saved when a woman/ninja with two armless Walkers chained-in-tow, save her life … Freaking awesome!

As the Season ends – the camera pulls back and reveals not far from the group is a giant prison … Is it possible that Randall’s group of violent men are using the prison as their sanctuary? Is it probable that Rick’s group will seek refuge at the prison? I think, yes . . .

As always, take care and best wishes!

Phillip Tomasso

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Live Blog: The Walking Dead: Better Angels 3-11-12

Tonight's episode of The Walking Dead, is entitled: Better Angels. Time Warner's show summary states: "Someone dangerous may be loose near the farm; Rick, Shane, Daryl and Glenn keep the group safe ..."

Tune in tonight as I blog live during the show ... post questions, tweet questions, email questions ...

Quick re-cap from last week. Rick's group saved a young man. That young man was part of a larger group that posed a serious threat to everyone's safety. After saving the man, healing him, and a failed attempt at dumping him 18 miles away from the farm ... the group now faces a delicate crossroads. The fate of the young man. Treat him as a sort of prisoner around the farm. Or simply kill him.

Dale. Perhaps the voice of reason. The seasoned male of Rick's group, is appalled. The crossroads should never have come into play. Not in his opinion. The young man is a human being. Killing him makes them as bad as, if not worse, than the unknown people they fear (not talking about the zombies).

Dale storms out of the house, washing his hands of the plans to murder the young man.

Rick, Daryl and Shane escort the young man to the barn. Hands tied behind his back. Rick cocks his gun. Shane forces the crying man to his knees ... Rick asks if he has any final words ...

As the male begs for his life, as Rick raises the gun and aims at the center of the man's forehead --

It is Rick's son who shows up, telling his father, "do it, Dad. Do it..," that stops Rick from actually putting a bullet in the man's head.

Carl followed the men to the barn. Wanted to watch them take the life of the man from the other group ... the dangerous group ... Carl. He's a boy no longer.

And, unfortunately, Dale, who ventures off into the fields to investigate a downed cow, encounters a loose zombie --the one Carl freed from the mud--and is eaten. His stomach chewed open beyond repair.

There was no repair. Once bitten, even if his wounds could have been stitched, would have turned.

While Rick hesitates to put Dale out of his misery, Daryl steps up to the task and ends it ... Lights out, Dale. Lights out!

TONIGHT'S EPISODE ...

Dale says Rock's group is Broken. Best way to honor his death is to Un-Break it, and prove Dale wrong.

This -- during Dale's funeral. As Rick promises to do things the right way, Dale's way, Shane and "his team" mercilessly slaughter the walkers ...

T. Dog, Andrea, Shane ...

Gripping intro teaser!

Looks like Shane's already forgotten the talk between himself and Rick. He does not want to take orders. He does not agree with Rick -- and Andrea's in no mood to babysit Shane, despite Rick's pleasant request.

Carl confides in Shane he has a pistol. He's been talked to before about having guns. Like Shane, Carl has trouble following orders. Following directions.

It doesn't take a zombie expert to realize "his" zombie killed Dale.

Is there hope for Carl? Remorse, maybe? Or is he more like Luke Skywalker's father, destined for darkness?

Not exactly sure why Hershel's suddenly open-arms to the group. Not sure at all. I've seen every episode. Only thing I can figure, that night in the bar--where Rick killed two men saving Hershel--is what turned the old man around.

Lori? One week you are telling your husband that Shane is a threat. Dangerous. And now, now you mess with Shane's head -- apologizing, telling him you don't know who the father is of the unborn baby (Shane/Rick) ... why would you do that? Why now?

Because you know what? Shane is dangerous. She saw it. Rick saw it. And, hello, Dale saw it!

You made things worse Lori. Wow. You just made everything worse!

Just gotta point out. Are they driving a 4-door Hyndai Veloster? I only ask, because I drive a 3-door Veloster.

But I digress ...

Shane is up to something. Gee, wonder if Lori messing with his head and Carl choosing to confide in him, has anything to do with it??? Ah-yeah. I bet it does.

Glenn works on the RV. Andrea, what, suddenly, maybe regrets being a bitch towards Dale during his final days?

It's Glenn who feels he's let Dale down. Andrea too.

The three of them, after all, were something of the trio most of last season ...

Ok. As much as Dale grated my nerves, maybe I miss him some, too. Some. Not a whole lot. He was a bit of a whiner. No. A big whiner. I don't miss him. Not at all.

I think it's a little late to have the, I'm-going-to-die-your-mother-is-going-to-die-talk with Carl. Kid's been watching Walkers slaughtered, and non-infected devoured since day one of the outbreak. Despite Lori's issues with her son having a gun--a kid Carl's age should have been trained to use a weapon from day one!

But that's just me. But it's my blog!

I gotta figure out the young guy's name. I mean, he's about to be beat by Shane and I have no clue what his name is.

It isn't that Shane lost it, it's that the world has moved too far away for him to keep up. Change is too constant for him to keep his bearings. In a way, I do sympathize with him. (Oh, and thanks to T-Dog, I know now that the young guy's name is RANDY!!)

Shane wants to protect his group. To do so he needs to know where Randy's group is camped. For this, I do have respect for crazy-Shane. Crazy, crazy Shane.

Or is he acting? Switching sides. Double-agent. Shane, Shane, Shane, you crafty character!

Ok. Did not see that coming. Shane's Tree-Hugging -- gruesome! Love it!

I thought he was playing double-agent, all smart. But no. No. The plan is to simply attack and destroy the other group -- which Randy said, before being killed, that they were 5 miles down the road ...

Daryl won't be fooled. And we all know Andrea'll do whatever Shane suggests, whether she realizes it or not.

But Rick ain't buying Shane's shananagens ... Shane's all screwed up. He knows it. He better.

Oh yeah. Rick knows it, and now Shane knows that Rick knows. Did you see that look Shane gave Rick in the woods as they comb through leaves in search of Randy? Oh yeah -- Rick does not feel safe with Shane, and so Shane takes point.

Daryl -- the clever tracker -- can read the woods like a blind person with braille.

Shane has Rick go first. Deeper into woods. Further away from Daryl and Glenn (and the dead Randy Walker) ...

Daryl and Glenn learn that Randy was not bitten before becoming a zombie so much as his neck had been snapped.

But who snapped ... Wait ... Wait ... Shane! Shane snapped it! Shane is a stock-raving-mad-lunatic!

I don't like it. Rick with his back to Shane.

Could this be the end of the road for Shane?

It won't be Rick.

"At least have the balls to call this what it is. Murder!"

Shane thinks Lori and Carl will get over the death of Rick -- they did it once before.

Shane is melting down. "You've got a broken woman. A weak boy. Haven't got the first clue on how to fix it!"

Rick won't draw. He remains unarmed. He won't be suckered into a duel.

And, oh shit. I did not see it coming. I did not!

Rick plugs his blade to the hilt into Shane's chest!

Where the hell did Carl come from? Why is he holding a gun?

Carl! Carl! Don't point a gun at your father!

And how the hell did Shane become a zombie??

Had to do some research. Looks like Randy and Shane became zombies--not because they'd been bit, or scratched--but because the virus is airbourne. So when you die--for any reason--you will come back as a zombie. Bites and scratches from a zombie cause the living to become zombies. And now mere "natural" death may due it as well!

Remember the CDC episode where the Director whispers something horrific to Rick before the CDC building exploded? Could he have told Rick the virus is airbourne? Hmmmm...

It's been fun! Tune in next week when, you guessed it, I'll blog live for the Season Finale!!

Phillip Tomasso

Author of Pigeon Drop, Johnny Blade, Adverse Impact, Convicted, Third Ring, Tenth House, Mind Play -- and as Thomas Phillips, The Molech Prophecy

A Short South Bend Story

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. You all have no idea who I am. Not for real. I know that.

Well, my last novel was published in 2007. Wow. Has it been that long? It has. Pathetic.

Anyway, the publisher booked me on a live morning television talk show. One of those Good Morning America types, without the ratings, or viewership.

I packed a bag. Went to the airport and and flew, first to Chicago, and then over to Indiana.

A limo met me at the tiny airport. And by limo, I mean black Lincoln Town car. The driver held up a sign.

It would have been really cool if more than three people were in the airport.

I stayed at a hotel not far from Notre Dame's campus. In fact, I was told it was walking distance from the hotel.

Seeing the campus would have been awesome, I imagine. But by the time I arrived at the hotel it was nearly 7:00 PM. It felt like it was ten below zero. Everything was frozen solid. I wasn't going to walk--I didn't have clothing for it. I had a leather coat and jeans, that I came in, and a suit for the show in the morning.

Instead, I found a Chinese place that delivered, and watched television in my room.

I did the show the next morning. It went all right. Was cool being on the set of a morning show. The background was just that, background. The set sat in the center of an almost black-wall warehouse. Camera's and cables all over the place.

This isn't a blog about the show, though. Not even a blog to promote my novel -- because you don't know who I am. But a blog about going home.

Ah yes, going home.

After my interview a taxi whisked me back to the airport. This was awful, actually. It was barely 9:00 AM, and my flight wasn't until noon.

But it didn't make sense to go back to the hotel.

I had a book with me. Figured I'd get some coffee, lunch, sit and read while I waited.

So I get back to this tiny airport -- which resembled the airport on the old TV show WINGS, more than a real airport. But I am not well traveled. Maybe the was the norm. Rochester International Airport is a good size, but it resembles a ghost town any time I've been in there ... But I digress.

I buy a sandwich at the ONLY open sandwich place -- and pay Airport prices for it, despite airport size -- and find a comfortable chair among the three in the lounge. Reading is going well. Eating, equally well. And then I look at the time. Still over three hours till my flight.

I think.

My plane tickets are my bookmark for the novel I'm reading.

I look at them.

Hmmm. Seems I am going to fly out of Indiana at 12:20. Won't get back to Rochester until almost 5:00 PM. Have a stop with another couple hours lay-over in Chicago.

I would arrive in Chicago at ... 12:05.

My stomach drops. My PR person at the publisher messed up my flight. Thank God I found the error!

I gather my things and wheel my suitcase up to the airline counter.

The woman behind the desk smiles. "How can I help you, sir?"

Maybe I am tired. I know I am upset with my publisher. Either way, I feel this entitles me to sarcasm.

With that entitlement, I ask, "Ah, yes. My ticket says my plane leaves here at 12:20 and will then land in Chicago fifteen minutes before it even takes off. I only have some college, but I am not sure how is that even possible?"

Without missing a beat, the woman -- still giving me that big smile -- says, "You fly through a time zone ... sir."

Hmmm. A little added emphasis on, sir?

Ah-yeah. I heard it. Deserved it.

It was the longest ten yard walk from the counter back to the chair I'd been sitting in.

Only now, I don't want to sit there. I want to hide. Sit someplace else.

Guess what? There is no where else. Think WINGS. One sofa. A few chairs. I'm waiting for Tony Shalhoub to walk in, partly as Monk, partly as a Taxi driver ... whatever.

So then, just as I sit. Just as I open my book and use it as a hand-held wall to block the woman at counter from seeing the red in my face ... I hear, "Sir? Excuse me, sir?"

I slowly lower the book. Eyes dart around. Trying to find out, One--is someone talking to me? Seems logical, since I'm the only one here. (Di Nero anyone? Anyone? No? Ok?)  And Two--if someone is talking to me, then who is it?

But I know, One, someone was talking to me, and Two, who it was.

I recognized the voice. Last thing it said to me was ... "sirrrrr".  Hard to forget.

"Ah, yes?" I say. Stand. Set my book down.

"We can get you on a flight to Chicago. Leaves in twenty minutes, and then a flight from Chicago to Rochester -- have you in Rochester by 2:00 PM, if you'd like?" Smile is still there. It might have been painted on. I am not sure I saw her lips move when she spoke.

"Um. Yes. Okay. Ah-yeah. That would be great." Then I became Jerry Lewis.

I went up to the counter.

"I need your tickets, sir."

I spin around. Hands pat my shirt. There is only a breast pocket. I pat my dress pants. Nothing.

I smile at the woman. And spin again. A One-Eighty. The tickets are sticking out of my book. I walk toward over, slide them out from between the pages. Head back, hand them over to the woman.

"And your suitcase?" She says.

I try to smile. "Of course."

For whatever reason -- maybe because I was too fucking stupid to recognize time zones -- I pat my shirt.

No suitcase in that breast pocket.

I go back and get my suitcase. Wheel it over. Smile.

I smile, not to be friendly. But because my book and suit coat are still over on the chair. I have to head back there a third time.

I will not spin, I think. I will not spin.

I wait until she tells me I am all set, hands me my new tickets with instructions to Gate 1, because best I can recall -- that was the only gate and I can see it from where I am -- but I sure as shit am not going to say anything sarcastic. No way!

That is when I return to the lounge for my book and suit coat, and I wave and thank the woman as I head to Gate 1, anxious to be home, but thankful to be out of Indiana's airport!

Hey you know what? That's the end of the blog!

Sincerely,
Phillip Tomasso