Yarmouth, Isle of Wight, England, United Kingdom of Great Britain
(I'm greeted at the door to a modest house in what Geoff Matthews assures me is 'the second smallest town in the country'. It is a coastal town, where one of the hourly ferries makes its' berth. I have just disembarked from the ferry and walked the five minutes to this house: the only relics of the Zombie War here is the monument at the entrance to the alley that leads to the entrance of Yarmouth Castle. Other than these, life seems almost like the pre-war films based in Britain; apart from more allotments and the assorted weapons most people carry.)
Hello, Hello… Oh, you're American! Well, come on in anyway… Could you leave your shoes by the door? Thanks. Come this way… Anything I can get you? Tea? Coffee?
(Geoff leads me through the kitchen, introduces me to his wife, apologises that his son is at school at the moment, then takes me to his 'study', his room with a view of a typical English Garden, every wall covered in bookshelves and a post-war computer sat on his pre-war wooden desk. He invites me to take a seat on the sofa and sits on his desk chair, cradling a mug of tea in his hands.)
So, where would you like me to start?
At the beginning, if that's okay with you (he suddenly seems to age about ten years.)
Oh, Okay, then. The first I heard was that Capetown outbreak, it was about halfway through the news broadcast on a BBC radio station and seemed serious, but I thought no more of it. I was seventeen at the time, and just finishing my college year, ready to go to University the next. I'd heard the stories of China starting to go a bit insane over Taiwan, of course, as well as the 'riots' in some Chinese cities that had been swiftly put down… I had no idea what was coming. How could anyone have any idea?
I studied Archaeology at a college in the New Forest… well, what used to be the New Forest…
But I passed through that on the way here…
Oh, yes it's still there, just a lot smaller and a long way away from the village my College was in. I can't blame the people there, of course, they needed the wood… Anyway, I was listening to the radio through my earphones on the Ferry in the morning, about a week or two after the outbreak of 'Rabies' in South Africa, when stories started coming of 'rabies' and 'riots' in Jakarta and in other towns, mainly throughout Africa, I started to get a teeny bit worried… but I thought that it would just be like the last disease panic, you know? Endless news stories about how many cases appeared this week, NHS (National Health Service) posters in every public toilet… Nothing serious.
Me and my friends thought it was all a bit of a joke, of course, joking about Zombies and the end of the world and where we'd go if there was a Zombie outbreak… back then, it was all a joke.
The first time I got truly very worried was the Israeli message that they were building themselves a big wall and planning to hide in there until the end of time. I thought, as did many others, that it was just in preparation for a new war. The Third World War appeared to be about to break out in China and I thought, with my adolescent surety, that Israel was going to take advantage of the panic that would doubtless spring up over there. Until…
(He pauses and sips from his mug.) The Paris outbreak?
Yep. First there were stories on the news about 'rabies' and 'riots' in Paris, about Martial Law and the shooting, and then there was the film footage. A line of soldiers, Policemen and whoever else in a line across some road with the Arc de Triumphe in the background, shooting at a horde of people moving slowly at them…yet so few seemed to fall. I thought at first that they were aiming high to warn the rioters off, but then you could hear someone shouting and then they began to fall… I remember seeing a head being blown clean off its body. But the horde kept coming, and then they reached the line…
Most ran away of course, but the soldiers mostly stayed – and got eaten. There was a close-up of one Zombie tearing out the neck of one soldier, another where a big, beefy man had clobbered three of them down before his leg disappeared, it had been bitten off. It was at that point that the camera, which must have been in a helicopter, was switched off and the people behind the desk in the news stated talking about what this may mean…there were Biologists, Bishops, Policemen, retired soldiers…I remember the ticker at the bottom of the screen: "'Zombie' attacks in Paris… Negotiation attempts fail…Martial Law declared… Government withdraws to Ile de la Cite…" I always wondered why the government went there and didn't try to get out of the city early on, but I suppose the French are insanely proud of their capital, and maybe the suburbs had fallen anyway. I saw on TV, live, the bombing of the bridges connecting the island to the rest of the city, the firefight at some castle or other – apparently that castle held out for the entire war – the boats in the seine being swamped with panicked people, the group at the top of the Eiffel Tower waving at the helicopters, desperate to be lifted off…
It was then that the news channel announced the first isolated incidents of 'rabies' in London and Manchester, and that the army had blocked off the Channel Tunnel as a 'precautionary measure'. We were all glued to the Television for the next few hours, we next heard that the entire armed forces and all the reserves had been mobilised, all transport into the country had been shut down and the Prime Minister was in an emergency meeting with the Cabinet.
Was this the first time the outbreak had come to Britain?
I don't think so... there were stories a few months beforehand, things like mad psychopaths and police shootings, I thought it was a resurgence of terrorism at first, partly because the psychopaths were always foreign, then there were tales like some child ended up killing her parents and was found by the police eating her dog, or the time when a 'riot' at a cinema ended in the whole building burning down. It was almost like in Harry Potter when all the wizarding disasters start affecting everyone else but the muggles have no idea what's happening - sorry, I'm a Harry Potter fan.
What happened after the Paris outbreak?
It all happened so fast from there. This was, I suppose, what you could call the beginning of the Great Panic in Britain – it wouldn't happen in the USA for another week or so. My Dad, who was in charge of some department in the Isle of Wight County Council, was called in to work – and this was a Sunday! A bank holiday as well! That really highlighted to me the seriousness of the situation. Before leaving he got his shotguns and air-rifles out – he used to go hunting – along with the ammunition, taught my Mum and me how to use them, and then left for Newport (The then county town of the Isle of Wight)
What did he do at the County Council?
I heard from a bloke who was at the meeting after I got to Yarmouth. Apparently, all the senior managers and directors had assembled in the main meeting room, along with the assistant heads of the local hospital, Police force and Fire department.
Assistant heads?
The bosses were all organizing their things - you know, the Police were breaking into the gun shop and arming themselves, there was only one gun shop on the Island as far as I know, not like in the USA. Anyway, orders from London had stopped arriving about an hour before we got the call - the local TA (Territorial Army - British Army reservists) had been called north to keep order in Portsmouth and that was the last anyone had heard from Whitehall. They - the Council - decided to ignore the laws and everything and to focus on stopping the 'Rabies' from getting to the Island, and to secure fortresses in case that didn't work. Essentially, with one simple vote, they declared Martial Law...though with an added clause that orders from the British Government would take priority. That clause was never needed - about a week later we got the 'Fend for Yourselves' message from the Government.
'Fend for Yourselves'?
I'll get to that after this...anyway, where was I? Oh yeah...well, after declaring Martial Law the Council took over the local radio station which started announcing the new 'regulations' that the Council were churning out. The first one they announced was that the prison would be the 'official' safezone - it makes sense; a building that was designed to keep people in would be easily adaptable to keep people, or them, out. It also allowed the Council to turn all the prisoners into workgangs who went out to help convert other possible buildings: Carisbrooke Castle, Bembridge Castle, Yarmouth Castle, the Cold War bunker near Ventnor... They also shut down the ferry services and the two airports - which were more like airfields, and then they had people patrolling the coast to make sure no-one could land and possibly spread the disease. There were others as well...Rationing, shooting criminals and 'dissidents' on sight... I think that the directors were secretly enjoying it, declaring independence and giving themselves complete power, only to be hailed as heroes when it all blew over... (He laughs)
There were isolated outbreaks, but they were dealt with quickly. I heard of some police shootings in Sandown and Cowes, and some other 'Zombies' that had been lynched by just random people almost everywhere else... despite the fact that what was happening was clearly and obviously impossible - I mean, the dead just didn't come back alive to eat the living - The video footage from Paris - as well as the news footage from London and that catastrophe at the Channel Tunnel (The British equivalent of Yonkers) had made everyone take the whole situation more seriously - for which I truly thank the fates, because if those preparations never happened then there would have been more deaths - and there were enough during the war anyway.
Law and order broke down in Southampton after four days - you could see the fires from the far side of the island and hear the screams from Cowes. Portsmouth went the day after, at which point we got a phone call from Dad. Mum picked it up, and he managed to tell us to get the hell to Yarmouth NOW before the power went. Mum left to find him, I think she thought that he would need picking up from Newport...
(A long pause, I feign interest in the birds busying themselves around the birdfeeders in the garden while he wipes his eyes and gathers himself. When our conversation resumes, his voice is only slightly shakier than before, but his face and eyes are very red.)
She told me to make my own way to Yarmouth... so I packed. I dug out my old school PE bag from the cupboard, and took with me a shotgun, spare ammunition, all the tinned food we had left, a torch, some spare batteries, my mums lighter - she smoked - and then most of my Viking gear.
Viking Gear?
Yeah - before the war I was a Viking reenactor - you know, go to an event every few weeks where several like-minded people dress up as Vikings, camp like Vikings and have pitched battles - I believe something similar to do with your Civil War is popular in the United States. Anyway, I had a helmet, an axe, a sword, a shield, and my most prized possession.
(He gets up, crosses the room to a cupboard door and opens it. Inside is what most people now have in every house throughout the world - armour, tinned food, matches and an appropriate weapon. I see a stained axe, an equally stained and slightly dented sword, a battered round Viking-style shield and, hanging from a bar, a full-length suit of chain-mail. I gasp, get up and have a look at it. The inside is coated in a layer of thin leather, the outside, while shiny, is slightly dented in some places and there's clear signs of repair around the right shoulder.)
It weighs a ton, and is pure hell to wear in summer, but saved my life more times than I care to count.
Is all this the stuff you had when you packed that day?
Yep - All of it except the shield, I got through quite a few shields. You see the axe? It looks like it's useless but it's light enough to be easy to carry but carries enough weight to cave in a skull once I had a bit of exercise. A fire-axe has a straight blade, so you need more force to drive it through a Zombies' noggin (British slang for a skull), While you can see that this has a more rounded blade so it penetrates the skull and brain. The limited flange (he points to the place where the piece of metal thins and widens just behind the blade so the length of metal between the blade and the shaft is thicker and more solid, while the blade tapers and has a longer edge) means that when I get into a skull it won't get caught on the bone while exiting.
What about the Sword?
I had a bit of flak for having that at first - it would be next to useless to actually cave a skull in; the only way it would be effective would be if I went straight through the eyes - but that's what I practiced doing. A few times in a 'battle', if you can call it that, my axe would end up jammed in a head that I then lose behind a new wave of Zed-heads. That's when I back out, let my partner take my place and drew my sword for dealing with any active heads that had got through the shield wall.
What about the helmet?
Ha! next to useless! It ended up being melted down to make a new axe for someone. The mail that was attached to it to protect my neck I attached onto a thick fur hat, which I sold after a few years to the people at Carisbrooke.
(He puts his accouterments away, closes the cupboard door and returns to his chair. I return to my seat.) Did you take anything else?
I put on thick socks and boots, with a thick coat and a hat - It was Spring but I didn't know how long I'd be holed up in the Castle. I also took my mum's stash of cigarettes; I thought I could use them to buy things off other people - and I did too! I got fairly wealthy by siege standards after the first year, though come winter and scavenging parties and they'd suddenly lose their value. That was about it really.
I first tried to ride my bike there - yes, I had a small motorbike - but there was a crashed tractor at the end of the road that I couldn't get around so I had to walk. It was horrible! At the time I was deeply unfit - not fat, you understand, just lacking in any strong muscles. I considered dumping my chainmail but I decided better - I reckoned it was better to be tired and alive then not-so-tired and bitten. It took me about three hours to get here - today I can make the same walk in half-an-hour or less. Not only was it my slow walking though, I also helped a few people.
At first I was the only one on the road, but I could here activity in some houses that I passed - some were arguing, most had the sounds of people hammering wood against their windows and doors, many were quiet. One definitely had moans coming from inside, but as I passed a police van arrived and five men came tumbling out all decked up in hunting rifles and motorbike jackets. It was then I realized that my Biking gear would have been a much lighter burden than my chainmail, but I'd already been walking an hour and the thought of walking all the way back made my head spin.
There wasn't much traffic actually - Everyone knew the Mainland had descended into chaos and we all thought we'd be safe on the island anyway - that was before we realized that water was a useless zombie-block.
So why were you going to Yarmouth Castle?
Because my mum had told me too - and I reckoned that if we had had isolated incidents then it won't take much for that to turn into the whole Island being overrun. I also thought it might be fun - live in a castle, albeit a small one, for a few months before reclaiming the Island. I won't deny the heartless thought of the plummeting of house prices afterwards as there will be less people wandering around so less demand - sorry, I studied Economics at College. When I finally did get to Yarmouth I saw that all the boats were gone - every single one. There was a marina, you see, which usually had a lot of boats moored up, but they were all gone. Judging by the fact the entire town was nearly empty I thought that everyone in the town must have got on a boat and left - the ferry was gone too.
The town was empty?
Mostly; there were some people still in their houses, boarding up the windows and doors, and there was a group in the church who were building up the wall that surrounded the cemetery, and then the group in the castle.
The castle isn't what you'd expect a 'normal' castle to be; partly as it was built in the Tudor period by Henry the Eighth, about a hundred or so years after the famous medieval castles. It was also designed to provide a defensive position to stop French or Spanish ships from making their way up the Solent and reaching Portsmouth, not as a center for a feudal lord. It's all one stone-built building, no wall or anything outside...
Actually, imagine a cube, and that's the castle. On top of the cube is a rectangular prism - you know what I mean? The prism is the same length as the cube but about a third of the cube's width in... width. This prism is to one side of the top of the cube so that the second floor is made up of one third building and two thirds gun platform, the platform faces the sea while the 'inside bit' is on the end facing inland. The platform used to have a few cannons, but when the Zombie War started there was one cannon on a wooden garrison carriage, two more empty garrison carriages and a few wooden picnic benches. It was all grassed over as well, so we managed to grow potatoes and carrots on it - even an apple tree!
Anyway, when I arrived there was a group of ten prisoners, all in a chain-gang and lorded over by a (expletive removed) of a Prison Warden, and about twenty more other people, mostly like me. The Prison Warden lorded over things first - he gave us all a small patch of floor in which we put our stuff and would sleep in, and then he had us all start sawing up the wooden benches to make the door thicker - there were no windows any human-sized thing could get through. He'd shout at us if he thought we were slacking, threatening us with being left outside when the Zombies turned up...
The next day he kicked us all awake, and before we could do anything he sent us out to 'requisition' food and other equipment from the town - we were to find a lorry, fill it with everything that would be useful, and then park it in the alleyway so that the big doors into the trailer would be about two meters away, and facing, the Castle door. This wasn't too hard - a few houses had been abandoned by now so we kept to those - one or two other houses had several families boarded up inside - as did the church, remember. There had been an empty lorry left on the tarmac, obviously waiting for the ferry before they were shut down, and the driver had buggered off somewhere. We found some great stuff as well - camping stoves, bottles of gas, gardening tools, bags of seeds, large barrels for water, as well as food. For some reason, the other 'compounds' hadn't picked through the buildings like we had - perhaps they thought that it would all blow over and they could go back home quickly. We even found a shotgun and loads of ammunition. Someone found a flag as well - a Red Ensign (British maritime flag for private craft - a red flag with the Union Jack in the top-left corner), which we flew from the flagstaff. I don't know why we chose to fly that flag in particular - there was a perfectly good Union Jack at the end of the pier, but I think we wanted to declare ourselves 'British' but not quite - like a colony if you like.
It was that afternoon the fires in Lymington started - the town immediately across the Solent. You can see it clearly from Yarmouth. we never found out exactly what happened to start the fire, but the warden said something about 'slow-moving people' after he looked through his binoculars. He got very angry when we couldn't fit the lorry into the alley - as you saw the road is very narrow - we couldn't turn the lorry enough to be able to reverse it into the alley, the way he wanted. We tried to tell him it wasn't possible, but then he really lost it. He pulled a truncheon out and started threatening us if we didn't so as he said, and then Alice - a girl about a year or two older than me - stepped forward and told him, quite plainly, that threatening us wasn't going to achieve anything. He shouted back at her, saying that he was in charge and if he wanted something done, it was going to be done.
Then he hit her round the head - quite hard too. She fell to the floor - unconscious, and then all hell broke loose. I think all the other 'civvies' liked Alice and were feeling protective of her - her pregnancy was just starting to show - and the warden ended up running, well limping, away with several sizable gashes on him and probably a broken arm. Then Ago went over to the prisoners, and told them in his accented English that they can go if they want, or they can stay. they all went off.
'Ago'?
Oh, he was called Agathonas, but we all called him Ago. he was an old Greek bloke - big white mustache and Einstein-like hair. A man of few words, though I think that might be because he didn't speak English very well. Really nice man as well - and epic in a fight. He's dead now, died about a week after Greece declared itself free. He never stopped smiling all that week, he'd be on the phone every day, talking in rapid Greek, and then on Saturday he just didn't wake up. This was after we had been liberated, of course.
After that, Ago became our leader. We'd all do our own thing, working together to stock up and fortify, you know, but whenever he had an idea and said so we'd all drop what we were doing and make it happen. Supporting a crane-like thing over the side with a bucket attached to gather sea-water like in a well, that was one of his ideas. We boiled the water under a sheet of metal - fresh water would condense on the metal which we'd then siphon off to drink. The salt was used to preserve meat.
(I ask if they kept meat at the castle, but he avoids answering)
Anyway, we had a wind-up radio - the electricity had stopped a few days before (did I say that already? I think I did) so we found one - and it was through that we heard the famous 'Fend for yourselves' broadcast. I have a recording here actually. (He gets out an old cassette tape and puts it in his vintage tape player on a shelf. The recording is crackly but the words are clear. The voice reading what sounds like a written script is that of a young male, speaking in perfect 'BBC English' with a definite waver in his voice)
"This is a message to all the subjects of Her Majesty, in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Vast swathes of Britain have been lost to the Resurrected. Various Religious groups are declaring this 'The End of Days', but we urge everyone - Everyone - not to panic. The Government is with...withdrawing...from London, and will relocate to Inverness, in northern Scotland. All elements of the Army, Navy and Air Force that are able to relocate are to move to this area, or to the Isle of Man, immediately. The Emergency Cabinet has declared the formation of Supreme Command, with the primary directive to reclaim all lands of the United Kingdom as soon as possible. All Army, Navy and Air Force personnel that are unable to move to the Antonine Zone or to the Isle of Man are to assist civilian groups in defense against the Resurrected. We do not know the duration until Britain can be liberated. To all groups of civilians and Government Personnel who are unable to get to the Antonine Zone or the Isle of Man, we have only this to say: you must Fend for Yourselves."
