The Return Home

After a couple of minutes when my heart had stopped racing. Stepped over the zombie and went to get the insulin. Found some and filled my pockets. Realised that I needed food and water. I was not far from the supermarket so decided to chance a raid. Crept out the back way and over the flat roof to the goods entrance and then easied myself inside through an open window. Seached quickly but carefully and surprisingly there were no undead anywhere.

The supermarket had been picked almost clean. It had been ransacked by a mob, looked more like a hurricane had hit. Nothing left on the shelves. But in the back I found some bottles of squash, packets of dehydrated potato and some christmas puddings. I jammed the lot into an old black bin bag. I decided to make my way back home. Went out the front which was quiet. Started picking my way through the wreckage.

Suddendly I heard a noise behind me. A moan. Then another. Then hundreds, combining into a terrible empty wail. Looked behind me. There were hundreds of zombies, diseased, blood-stained and rotting shuffling towards me. Suddenly realised I had no weapon, nothing to defend myself with. Left my knife in the chest of the undead in the chemists. Heart pounding, sweating, shaking I scrambled through the cars and bodies. The living dead were yards behind. As a stinking, drooling, grasping mass pouring over the wreckage, grasping at me. Dead eyes. I was hauling myself through and onto the road beyond. I sprinted away, only stopping to pick up a scaffolding pole that had been smashed through a car windscreen. I was getting away.

Slowing down now, could still hear them, but they were a hundred yards off now, held up by the wreckage. Breathing hard, lungs bursting, bag and pole weighing me down. Then in the road infront was another. Zombie charver lad in a base ball cap and bloody white tracksuit. Stumbling toward me. I dropped the bin bag, and swung the pole at him double handled, overhead like an axe. The pole is good, steel, hollow, about 4 feet long. Caught him right on the top of the head. Crunch. Split it open like a boiled egg. Finished him. Kept running.

Got home soon after with the bag. Barricaded myself in. Lay on the floor for an hour lungs bursting, recovering, slowly regaining my breath. Then I drank. John's gone.

Medicine 2

Went out the back door and over the back wall in no time. The back lane was quiet, no different to normal. So I kept low and kept moving, hiding behind the wheelie bins. Was going well, not even any bodies. A few cars abandoned. I heard a banging noise like someone knowing on a front door. So I hit the deck & crawled round the corner to see what was going on. There was a bloke in a uniform and clipboard stood outside a house. He didn't look diseased & he looked like a policeman in a hi-vis jacket so I ran up to him, thought he might be rounding us up to get to a safe place.

Bugger! He wasn't a cop or the army or the bloody cavalry, he was a bloody meter reader. His mind was gone, kept saying he had to hit his quota of gas meters read today or he wouldn't get his bonus. But nobody was answering their doors. I shouted at him to get inside and save himself. He looked at me as if I was mad and said he had an identity card and had a job to do. Bollocks to him, he didn't want my help, he'll be eaten soon if he's not careful. So I kept going & he kept knocking on doors.

It was going so easily, until I got to Chilly Road. Nightmare. It looked like every car in Newcastle had driven into every shop and then overturned and caught fire. There were bodies, furniture, bikes, paper, chairs, tables, clothes, money, limbs, clothes, stones, pizza boxes, glass and blood everywhere. Chaos and death. Pain and silence. Nothing alive. I've never been so scared.


Started picking my way through. Knife in one had, dart in the other. Glass crunching, blood squelching. Tried not to look at the bodies, some had been shot, others just torn apart. In the head mainly. Everything smells of oil, blood and smoke. Cars ontop of bikes ontop of body parts. Money laying everywhere. Going slow, taking care, dont want to come across the diseased. A bus had run into a bank. It's front end was jammed in. Could see movement inside, crept up to it keeping low. Not good, full of the diseased. These must be what Rob calls zombies Blank eyes, blood soaked but just shambling about inside. They cant get out, door was jammed. Saw me and started moaning and trying to bite me throught the window. Left quick, before they manage to get out.


Close to the Medi-centre now. I'm sweating, shaking, wet, cold, hungry, tired and scared. But the shop not damaged. Looked in the window, can see a zombie. Old man, probably a lollypop man. He's seen me. Need to get it out so I can get in. I opened the door shouted in, he came for me. Followed me out the shop moaning and stumbling. Got him to follow me up the road, managed to double back and get into the shop. Shut the door and jammed a display stand against it. It was solid. Lolllipop was now outside, snarling and banging his green, bloody face against the window. I'd outsmarted a dribbing moron. I was so happy I threw up on the floor, but I just couldn't stop laughing. I've never felt this good.


Until I saw the other one. Behind the pharmacy counter. Nose missing and coming at me. I'd managed to barricade myself inside with a zombie. And another one outside. Things could be better. I just stood and watched while he lurched towards me. Pissed myself. Couldnt breath. This is it. He got to three feet away and I lashed out. Stuck him with the knife right up to the handle, straight between the ribs. Never phased him. Kept coming, brown sludge dripping from the wound. He went to bite my face. I lashed out again. With the dart. Got him smack in the temple. He collapsed. His knees went and he just pitched sideways. He didn't move. I stared at him for a minute. Then screamed for joy. I was crying with joy. I'd killed one, killed a zombie, one of the living dead. Got other darts and stuck his other temple and the other between the eyes just to make sure. I'd survived.

Medicine

It's just started to rain and John's suddenly beginning to look bad. Shivering & sweating. Tells me he needs his medication, he's got diabetes. So he needs to inject himself regularly. Aparently he's almost run out of his medicine. Needs to inject himself again within the next few hours otherwise he'll peg out. He needs it now but he can hardly walk, the pillock. I wasn't going to go. But he did time for me a couple of years ago so if I do this we're quits, or so he says. Anyway I could get some food at the same time, that sounds like a plan.

First I'll go to the Medi-centre on Chilly Road then look for food on the way back. I need a weapon just incase I see any of the diseased but there's not much here apart from a carving knife and some darts. So I take them both. I'm bricking it, but I gotta do it. Going to go out the back way, just in case Danny Tank is still hanging about.

Front Door

Well they've gone from the front door. They got distracted by a bloke flying round the corner on a motorbike and started to follow him. He skidded on the ice down the road though and smacked into a lamp-post. Must of broke a leg coz he couldn't get up. They all shuffled over to him. He was freaking out, crying, screaming, begging them to let him go. They just dropped on him and tore him apart, ate strips of him. After 10 minutes they just shuffled off. Left him there. After another half hour he just got up and started shuffling around like them. Most of him from the chest down was half eaten.

Later on they heard someone screaming from Chillingham Road way, and all shuffled off. I'm getting hungry.