User: LegendLuigi91
Date: 05/09/2011
Subject: For Your Life
I don't feel up to wading through countless typo's and autocorrect right now.
But hell, I got nothing better to do.
You'll be happy to know (Unless you're a zombie. But then zombies can't read. Or can they? I'll have to forward that to our research division. Right after we make a research division.) that the three of us are quite safe. Well, not safe exactly... But physically, we're good.
Mentally however? Not so great. In fact just three minutes ago I caught Mo playing battleships with himself. And he was losing.
It's 3am now. Yesterday was a long day, full of ups and downs. We made it out of the city alive and pretty much unscathed. It felt great to be putting some miles between us and the zombie nation, kind of like winning the lottery, but instead of a lump of money I had a banged up Subaru and a few more days to live.
The main road quickly became the main problem. It seemed like every Tom, Dick and Harry had climbed into their cars and made a bee line for the country side as soon as the infection hit. The streets were gridlocked with unused vehicles and about three quarters of these were abandoned. The other quarter of them still had drivers inside. But they wouldn't be driving anywhere soon. I took the junction down onto a less used road, thankfully it was clear.
We pulled over to get our bearings together and pass around the bottled water. Thomas had mostly recovered from the shock of being in a marathon with a hundred other blood thirsty competitors and wasn't showing any signs of Zombiefication (Bad smell, poor manners, cannibalism etc). This made me glad. I didn't want to introduce him to Mr. Stabby the disgruntled pool cue. Mo found a road map in the glove compartment (Who the fuck keeps gloves in there anyway?) and we managed to pinpoint our position using our productive precision powers, because even during an undead invasion I can find time for alliterations.
We came to a mutual decision that our best bet was to head south and hope for the best. Here are a few of our reasons:
A) The Airport. We were a two hour drive away from one of England s biggest airports. Sure, it was probably more infested than a tea party of genital warts, but we figured that the helicopters had to be heading south and most likely for the airports landing pads. I'd happily forgive them for dropping a bucket full of trouble on our heads if they had a way out of this shithole country.
B) Low density population. Trust me, I know about this stuff. In fact I took Geography for almost TWO months. Ideally we want to get to the most southern point of England where the population is roughly half of what it is up this end. That and I hear it's really nice this time of year.
C) The Cottonwood Family. Me and Mo generally regard ourselves as outcasts. We didn't have any immediate family in the country. Mo moved here with his Dad when he was about five years old. Twelve years later his Dad was arrested for insurance fraud and Mo had to fend for himself. And me? Well, I'm too manly for family.
Fine, I'm an orphan. Go away.
C) So yeah. Thomas is big on the family stuff. He only sees them at Christmas and summer holidays because of his fear of trains (Don't ask). He circled the map where his parents and younger sister live and I told him we'll be passing through if the Airport plan goes to shit. Which it will because what doesn't go to shit these days?
Having a plan of action was a pleasant change. It was worrying that only a few days ago I was content with being shacked up in a two bedroom apartment and pissing out of the window to pass the time. Where was my ambition? Out the window with my urine I guess. Being on the road felt like we were fighting back against the invasion. We were the three musketeers. We were untouchable.
We were also lost.
Reading a map is hard, we all know it. It doesn't help that the roads are full of rubble, burnt out cars and moving bodies. What was intended as a two hour trip had already taken us three thanks to the endless country lanes and dead ends. I tried getting Mo to ask one of the locals for directions, he instead wound down his window and blasted an unlucky zombie in the head with his nunchucks to vent some frustration.
With the way things were going we would be facing a petrol starvation before we even got in sight of the Airport. And I didn't fancy our chances on foot. Thomas found an empty jerry can in the boot. (Of course it would be fucking empty.)
We hit another dead end. I was so annoyed I actually bashed the stereo, which activated the CD player. There was a brief silence before "Take on Me" by A-Ha blasted out of the speakers at the highest possible volume. This was the final straw. Mo looked positively horrified and started pushing buttons until the thing finally shut up. I couldn't help but laugh for at his hatred for Norwegian Pop.
Then it hit me. And this time it wasn't Mo hitting me but the fact that I'd just blared out one of the more annoying hits of the 80's. With my window open. In the middle of a completely silent country lane. During a nationwide pandemic. If you don't see the problem then you're probably already a zombie. So stay the fuck away from me.
I shifted into reverse and pulled off some mission impossible-esque driving (At about 20 miles per hour). Just when I thought our zombie mating call had gone unnoticed, one of them popped into view in my mirror. I increased speed, ready to splat the fucker like a puny hedgehog. And splat him I did.
The rear bumper took offense at being rammed into Zombie, so it abandoned ship and rolled away into the wild. The zombie did the opposite, rolling onto the car and pressing his face up against the back window to engage Thomas in a friendly staring contest. Thomas lost. I backed into a junction and swung the car around, throwing the zombie into the dirt. I didn't bother waving goodbye but Mo gave the poor fella the middle finger as we shot off down the road.
In the next ten minutes two things happened. Firstly, we found a road sign telling us that we were closer than we thought to the airport. If we avoided trouble then we could be there before it gets dark. But we all know by now that we aren't so great at avoiding trouble.
The second thing that happened was... Well, we were in trouble. My little hit and run with the zombie had left the car feeling a little poorly. The cars exhaust had either gotten cold feet or just didn't enjoy our company and wanted us to be eaten alive at the next opportunity. If you've driven a car with its exhaust dragging along the ground then you'll realize our problem. It's both loud and environmentally unsafe. I was mainly worried about the loud part; the environment had been labeled permanently unsafe when the G-Man started firing zombie rockets at us.
The car was still drivable, but we'd be putting ourselves at a bit of a risk. Sure, we're faster than the average zombie. But these things were tenacious with a capital D. They would follow you to hell and back for a slice of man-pie. And we had plenty.
It was an easy fix. All we needed was a bit of rope or some duct tape. Three guys running from a zombie invasion were sure to have such basic equipment, right? No. You are very wrong. And we are very fucked.
Mo blamed me for using the last of our tape to create my slingshot. So I blamed him for using the last of my rope to make pretend dreadlocks for a Caribbean themed campus party we went to eight months ago. It almost descended into fisticuffs before Thomas shoved himself between us told us to STFU or GETFBZ (Get eaten to fuck by zombies.).
We spread the map out over the Subaru's bonnet. There was a small town nearby that would have everything we need, but our first rule was to avoid death. We like this rule. So far we were sticking to the farmland outskirts and taking the long routes around any little villages that we knew would be swarming with Z's. We decided that our best bet was to stick to the road on foot until we found a friendly farmers cottage where we could borrow some supplies.
I locked the car door out of habit and we moved on with weapons in hand and an emergency backpack full of necessities in case we were chased up a tree by zombie dogs. Fuck, that's not a nice thought. Could animals get infected too? Thinking about it, I haven't seen any signs of wildlife lately. Unless you count the flies. There are an awful lot of them around.
My sharpened pool cue had been renamed Mr. Stabby (Copy write pending) due to its proficiency at stabbing things. It was comforting to hold as I walked down the empty country lane, keeping my eyes and ears open. Every rustling leaf or snap of a twig seemed to make me twitch with anxiety. At one point Mo sneezed, causing Thomas to almost soil himself. We were all on edge. After a particularly brutal incline, we finally crested over a hill and spotted a trio of bungalows attached to quite the massive plot of land. There was even an apple tree!
If we had any energy left I'm sure we would of ran down and secured ourselves in the house. Instead we just kind of dragged ourselves down the hill - it felt like we had been walking for hours. And we might of for all we knew, the only clock I had was on my phone and that was being used purely for emergencies.
And blogging. Hello!
I knocked once, then twice. Then I did a little drumbeat on the door. Then Mo smashed the front window with his nunchucks. Did I mention he's impatient? He is. We stopped to listen... We couldn't hear any of the usual Zombie sounds so we jumped straight in. The house itself was a typical retired couple's gaff. Patterned wallpaper, tea cozies everywhere, expensive china decorating the mantelpiece. You name it, this place has it.
It also had the odd distinction of having two fresh corpses, laid quite carefully on the floor, covered in twin white sheets which didn't quite mask the smell of decay. I was about to get my scavenging gloves on when we heard the stairway creak. I hefted Mr. Stabby like a lance, ready to go to town on some zombie ass.
She couldn't have been much older than ten. I was no expert on Zombieology but if I had to hazard a guess, I would say she could have turned as recently as last night. It was the tilt of her head and the animalistic look in her eyes that gave her away.
That and she charged straight fucking for us.
I didn't take any pleasure in it. Killing the bastards before seemed fair game. They'd lived their lives. Some short and some long - but they'd lived enough to get a good taste of it, and now they were trying to end mine. But this was different. This little girl wasn't even given the chance - her best years were yet to come. I couldn't help but think of the infinite amount of others that had their lives cut short by this fucking disease. It's hard to describe, but I know it's really fucked up. Like, really, REALLY fucked up.
I just managed to get Mr. Stabby up in time as she got within an arms length of me. And then it was over for her. Thomas excused himself pretty quickly. Mo just looked at me and nodded. I left Mo and Thomas to dig around the supplies we would need and went upstairs to find the girls room. I figured I'd give her the "White Sheet" treatment that her guardians had been given. When I walked into her room I somehow managed to feel a little bit worse. There were five empty bottles of pills on her bedside table and at least twelve posters of Justin Bieber.
I didn't know what was worse. The fact that this little girl had offed herself or that fact that she'd done it before she had a chance to discover real music.
I'll let you guys decide.
We found plenty of tapes. Duct, masking, pipe, paper. Every kind of tape you could want. There was probably a bit of rope in the tool shed - but it's starting to get dark and there's no way we'll be caught outside at night.
We've decided to stay here (In a separate room to the bodies and with a few scented candles burning.) and travel back to the car for repairs when the first of us wakes up. Then it'll be onto the Airport and hopefully to safety.
Yeah I know. I'm kidding myself.
But if we don't have hope then what the hell do we have? That's right. Noodles.
I'll catch you tomorrow when my phones eaten a couple more batteries. (I've got enough to last three apocalypses.)
Remember: Keep on keeping on.
