Last night Jean and I took in some belated Halloween viewing and watched the pilot episode of AMC’s new series, The Walking Dead. All I knew about it was that it was about zombies, and it was supposed to be good.

So I was expecting it might be kind of scary, but wasn’t expecting it to be quite so—intense, I guess, as the warning said.

Because this not be a “fun” zombie series. In fact, they’re not called zombies at all, but walkers—the walking dead, you see.

But I should backtrack. The premise is a small town sheriff who is shot and goes into a coma. When he awakens from it, he finds the world much changed. Most people in it are dead. But some—well, it’s not quite accurate to say they don’t stay dead, because they are still dead, but they don’t stay still. They rise. They lumber around. They look for live flesh to feast on. The only way to stop them is to damage their heads (shooting being the most efficient way). While easy enough to get away from one on one, in a frenzied crowd, it’s a different story.

The whole thing is treated quite seriously, and is therefore horrible. Decaying corpses. Adorable little girls with teddy bears but rotting faces. Pathetic paraplegic zombie woman. And worst of all, loved ones rendered as walkers. Could you shoot the face of the person you loved and just watched die?

So. It was good, but it really wasn’t the ideal thing to watch right before going to bed.

If you’re curious, AMC is rerunning the pilot this Friday, apparently. Then it’s continuing on Sunday nights, in Mad Men’s old time slot.