Given the inescapable fact that most zombies are basically meat bags locked in a slow spiral of decomposition, a person should be able to out wait any zombie apocalypse by just sitting down on a rock somewhere in their back yard and letting simple biology***** do all the work for them. While they work on their tan. (The person, not the zombie because tan zombies are just wrong).
... Should be able to.
However. What if the zombie failed first year physics? What if the zombie isn't really dead, but instead the victim of some hideously contagious uber rabies type disease? What if the zombie reaches your succulent brains before he/she morphs into a putrescent pile of organic goo? (move the rock further back)
No, seriously (kinda but not really). So for the sake of intellectual discourse, let us pretend that there are a zillion zombies lurching and moaning all over hell and back, the world has gone to shit, and it's just YOU and you're little dog, too.
First off, we just finished watching Quarantine #2 this evening, and sure enough ... 99.99% of the movie's would-be-victims made the crucial mistake of fleeing in a group.
Don't do this. When have you EVER known a group to be efficient at anything, let alone survival? Anyone who's ever spent more than 3 seconds in a meeting knows that more people equals time wasted/incompetence. Every extra person in your zombie survival groups increases the chance you're gonna die by a factor of something like 12 (first number that came to mind) (like I've got the valuable time to actually research anything I write) (as if).
But. If you MUST be in a group, during a zombie flesh-fest, make certain everybody but you weighs about 900 lbs and smells like A-1 Sauce. Or Heinz 57. Even better if they have a broken leg or two (bring a sledge hammer just in case you have to *improvise*). As long as you've got some poor unfortunate to 'take one for the team', you might be able to buy yourself enough time to get the heck out of Dodge while the hungry dead are chompin' down on ol' whathisface. Literally.
And for God's sake, stay away from women unless you're one yourself. I know I am. And even when we don't mean to, women startle easily and are always screaming or tripping over a stray piece of lint or a single blade of grass. We do stupid crap like sobbing & crying & yelling & we fall down alot, and unless all the zombies are deaf, they're gonna hear the noise except to them it'll sound like somebody ringing the dinner bell at The Outback Steakhouse.
Not only that, but the sad truth of the matter is that Mother Nature has it in for women. We tend to start our periods whenever we are stressed, even if we're not due for another two weeks. So even if the movies have lulled you into thinking that the best way to survive a zombie apocalypse is by sequestering yourself with some really hot chick, just know that sooner or later her body is going to betray your hideout with a giant red flag. If she's super hot or your fiance or whatever, I suppose you might make do with a muzzle and Bob's Big Book of Hysterectomy's For Beginners.
But the best advice is that unless it's your grandmother, avoid women like the plague. And be honest with yourself, hasn't granny lived long enough as is, with all those liver spots and pill bottles? Just cover the old lady up with an afghan and be on your way.
Now, there's a lot of truth to the old adage 'location is everything'. I think we've all seen enough Romero films to know that rural farmhouses, urban malls, and high-rise apartment complexes are undesirable real estate during a zombie breakout. And even though it's true that there's really no great place to be when the world is over run with zombies, some places are still way better than others.
Two come to mind:
Unfortunately, it's doubtful you'd have the means to hot wire a rocket ship, even if you could hoof it all the way to NASA unmolested. Secondly, Atlantis is probably in some really, really deep secret place way under the ocean and Jacques Cousteau is dead.
You're well and truly screwed.
No, wait. There's still hope. How about a ... mothball factory?! If there's anything on earth that is so noxiously overpowering as to cover the sweet scent of human-on-the-hoof flesh, AND has vending machines AND bathrooms ... it would have to be a place that makes mothballs. You could be bleeding out all your orifices and nothing's gonna smell you over that stench. You could even erect a tiny tent out of wool blankets with the certain knowledge that no moth, or zombie, is going to mess with you.
There. I did it. Thanks to me the human race now possesses the key to surviving an all-out zombie apocalypse. Unless they quit making mothballs. Write your senator asap.
*****Or the Second Law of Thermodynamics, which sounds all nice & scientific-like. See, now you've learned something today. You're welcome. And when some goober at work starts talking about zombies, you can act all superior and inform Goober that zombies are a biological impossibility in accordance with this law. Don't do this if the goober happens to be your boss/person in charge of payroll.