Okay, stay calm. Think. They said to remain in your home, but obviously I can't go back there, there's a zombie in the kitchen. I also can't go to anyone else's house; they'd be rightly scared of someone trying to get in, and I don't know if they're zombies either.

No, I'm on my own.

So, looks like I'm camping in my truck, out of town, away from people who may or may not want to eat my brains. First stop, Newton's. I pull a U-turn, there's no one else on the roads, Forks looks like a ghost town. If I can get everything I need and get out of here quickly, I might get away without seeing anymore zombies.

I pull up right next to the door and get out, leaving the engine running. The door is not locked, I enter cautiously; the door should have been locked. There's no one in sight, so I creep inside, keeping my ears open. When Charlie was lumbering towards me in the kitchen, he had poor motor control; hopefully all zombies will have this problem. Even I could outrun them then, so long as there aren't too many.

I reach the camping section without incident and start grabbing supplies. The little silver packets of Army rations, those little hand-warmer thingies, a four season sleeping bag and thermal roll mat, I drag it all out to the truck and throw it in the back. The coast is still clear, but there's a puddle of water in the back of the truck, I head back into Newton's. I grab two ground sheets and a small tent, then I get some spray-on waterproofing; I've had enough complaints from customers to know that these tents don't stay waterproof for long. I take another trip out to the truck, keeping a wary eye out while I spread one of the groundsheets out in the back of the truck.

Another trip into the shop, I head for the clothing section, grabbing hiking boots like the ones I have at home, I'll have to wear them in, but at least I know they'll fit. I also get a couple of pairs of hiking trousers, insect repellent long sleeve tops and a warm coat. Out at the truck the street is still deserted, but I'm getting nervous, so I hurry back into the shop. Three pen knives, a torch and extra batteries find their way into my pockets, and then I approach the back room with caution. I want more rations, a firearm and ammo if I can get them, and a gas stove and more gas canisters, but they're all stored in the back, behind the closed door that could be hiding a member of the undead.

I retrieve the torch from my pocket, it's heavy, with a long metal handle, I chose this one because it looked like it could double as a weapon if need be. The lights are off in the back, and I debate turning them on, or just using the torch, but decide against it, it would give away my position. Some light filters in through the window in the door I entered by, just enough to see by.

There's no sound, but I hurry to where the keys are stored for the gun safe, unlocking the cage and grabbing a break barrel air rifle, two air pistols, some spare magazines, a box of gas canisters and a box of pellets. Air weapons aren't as powerful as guns, but they're quieter, lighter to carry, and they should get the job done just fine. I load one of the pistols and turn to face the room.

Had I heard something?

I freeze. Listening. Silence.

Pistol loaded I head back into the room, moving cautiously, listening intently. I grab the stove I wanted and a box of gas canisters. It's all I can carry, so I run it out to the truck. The street is still empty, but I dart back inside. I grab a Trangia and a couple of bottles of spirits along with a large water container, they go out to the truck before I approach the back room one more time.

Heart beating furiously, pistol gripped tightly in one hand, metal handled torch in the other I push the door open, and listen; silence. I head quickly for the rations and grab another box of hand warmers while I'm at it, then head for the exit.

There's a shadow at the door, I freeze. I know that step, that lurching gait. I crouch, placing the boxes on my foot, so I'd be able to pick them up again more easily, and fish the pistol from my pocket, releasing the safety as I bring it up in front of me. I rest my elbows on the box, using both hands to steady the pistol, aiming for the silhouette against the door. The trigger makes a click when I pull it, the pellet whizzing out of the weapon and making a nauseating crack and squelch as it finds its mark. The zombie falls.

So, the movies got this right at least, shoot 'em in the head and they die. Good. I cock the pistol, moving a new pellet into position, and then reengage the safety before returning it to my pocket. I pick up my boxes, still listening carefully in case there are any more of them, and give the zombie a wide berth as I edge around it to the door. It does not move.

That was everything, or at least, everything I could think of or was willing to risk. I scrambled back into the truck and high-tailed it out of there. Next stop, supermarket.

I considered stopping at the supermarket, people in films always do, and it usually works; until the electricity goes off, and the food goes off, and the zombies or an infected person gets in, and then the people in the films all die. Maybe not such a great plan after all.

There where people at the supermarket, not many, and they looked like humans, panic buying. Their eyes darting everywhere, wide with fear. I pulled in as close as I could get without blocking anyone in; no one had bothered to park properly. I left the engine running again, grabbing a trolley this time, fewer trips would be better.

I felt safer here, more eyes to keep lookout. I ran around the store, competing with other people to grab food before it was all gone. Mrs Stanley grabbed the last of the noodles as I got there; she glared at me, as if daring me to challenge her for them. I turned, getting pasta and rice instead. A big box of salt, and another of curry powder, spices were used in medieval times to disguise the flavour of gone off food, I could use them now for the same purpose. I grabbed come stock cubes for similar reasons. A few bags of lentils and pulses went into the trolley before I got to the nearly empty tins aisle. I managed to score a multipack of baked beans, two tins of plum tomatoes, six tins of pineapple slices and a tin of blueberries.

I remembered to get a big pack of toilet paper, some shampoo, dish soap undergarments and a first aid kit, and then headed back into the fray to fight over the food. Three bags of flour and a pot of bicarbonate of soda so I'd be able to make damper bread, if I could ever light a fire. Butter, milk, eggs and other perishables; the fresh food wouldn't last long, but it'd be nice while it did last.

I grabbed a chopping board, knife set and a complete crockery set before heading back out to the truck. I pretty much threw things from the trolley into the back of the truck, pulling the second ground sheet over the lot and weighing down the edges with the tins and other things that wouldn't be damaged by getting wet. I took the air rifle and a tin of pellets with me as I ran back to the cab and pulled away. Tyler's van pulling into the space I'd left within seconds.

The roads were getting busier, people heading to and fro, speeding and in some cases losing control. Charlie wasn't there to stop them, to give them a ticket. He would never pull anyone over again. A sob escaped be, but I swallowed hard; it wasn't time to fall apart yet, I still had things to get.

The world was growing blurry from the tears as I pulled into the gas station, but I swiped them away roughly and grabbed the air pistol from my pocket, swiftly dispatching the two zombies who were shuffling across the forecourt towards me. There was no one else around, so I left the truck, still running and jammed the petrol hose into the tank; I left it running while I headed to the shop. I pulled two Jerry cans over to pumps and started them filling then headed back to the shop. There was barbeque lighter fluid and lighters. It was never sunny enough for a barbeque in Forks, but the petrol garage sold them anyway so I stocked up, and got a stack of the disposable barbeques too. Then I grabbed a shovel from a display by the door and headed back to the truck.

The Jerry cans were almost too full for me to lift, so I shut them off and hauled them into the back of the truck. The tank was full on the truck so I was all set.

I drove away, out of Forks, the town I'd lived in all my life, into the unknown.

Yeah, I probably wouldn't go on my own, especially if I was as clumsy as Bella. Let's hope she doesn't break a leg or something. Like I said before, the story is as it is, I just right it down.