Blog of the Dead (Book 1): Sophie (22 page)

February 19
5.30am Day 98
I lay awake in the darkness, Sam beside me, warm but far away from me in sleep. The laptop on the mattress to the left of my pillow gave off enough light to illuminate the room. That and the stars on this cloudless night meant that I could see quite well.

A shuffling noise from outside made me shoot up into a sitting position. Enclosed in these castle walls, the street sounds rarely reach our ears, but here was something close, getting closer. ‘Sam. Sam wake up.’

‘Whah … ?’

‘Sam,’ I said, shaking him on the shoulder. ‘I heard something.’

Sam sat up, any remaining sleep wiped off his face instantly by the sound of feet on the path outside. We looked at each other, eyes wide.

‘What’s going on?’ said Kay from across the room.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ screeched Polly. ‘Sick person trying to sleep, arseholes.’

‘Something outside,’ I whispered to Kay, ignoring Polly. Me, Sam and Kay jumped from our beds, pulled on some clothes and grabbed our weapons. I had my knife in my hand, clinging onto it tighter and tighter with each footstep on the stairs outside our home.

‘It has to be them, right? Sam whispered to me. ‘Otherwise we’re fucked.’

When the door opened, the first thing I saw was the head of a zombie, its ravaged face lit by the starlight. Its mouth gaped open. I gasped, confused for a moment at how it opened the door. Then I realised that it had no body … just a head staked on something – a sword. Liam strode into the room holding his sword, morbid prize attached. He had a big grin on his face. Charlotte followed him, a look of relief to be home on her blood splattered face. ‘You’re ok!’ I yelled.

‘Aye milady,’ said Liam.

‘Yeah, yeah, we’re ok,’ said Charlotte wearily. ‘Just.’ Then, to my surprise, in walked someone else, someone holding a large curved sword in one hand and an acoustic guitar in the other.

‘I found these two puddings in a spot of trouble in town,’ said the newcomer. ‘I think they belong here. I’m Stewart, by the way.’

February 22
9.25pm Day 101
On Saturday, when me, Sam and Kay were worrying about whether Charlotte and Liam were alive (I would’ve added Polly to that list but, of course, her powers to care for other human beings is limited) it turns out they were at a party.

They stopped the Mazda in the high street outside an off licence, ready to head in and pick up whatever was left of the diminishing stock on the shelves, but heard music coming from the restaurant opposite. Once they climbed out of the Mazda the smell of weed floating out of the restaurant had been unmistakable. Apparently Liam had talked Charlotte into checking it out. They knocked on the door of the restaurant, and after a while, the door opened to reveal a young guy, early twenties, with hair so matted with grease and dirt that it had started to form natural dreadlocks. He had heavy eyelids and a dazed grin. ‘Hey,’ he said to Liam and Charlotte. ‘Are you zombies?’

‘No we’re not zombies, dude,’ said Liam.

‘Ok, cool,’ said the young guy as he leaned his limp body against the door frame. ‘We’re not zombies either. We’re keeping it real, you know?’

‘That’s awesome,’ said Liam.

‘Yeah, this whole zombie thing, it’s like mind control, you know? Like the government wanted everyone to think the same, not question anything, right? So they used some sort of chemical weapon to dumb everyone down, only it went wrong, right? And now everyone’s brain dead but fucking eating each other and …’

‘Liam, let’s go,’ said Charlotte as the young guy carried on. She leaned close to Liam and whispered, ‘The guy’s a freak and we have a job to do.’

‘Not until I get some weed,’ Liam whispered back. He turned to the young guy who had stopped talking and was busy relighting a half smoked joint, ‘That’s cool, man. Look, can we come in for a bit … hang out?’

‘Hey, no problem, man. Where are my manners? Come in.’ The young guy heaved himself away from the door frame and closed the door behind Liam and Charlotte before staggering further into the restaurant. ‘I’m Joe, and this is Chris, Maggie, Emily, Jamie and over there is Morgan,’ said Joe, nodding his head at each of the heavy-lidded people in the smoky, dimly lit restaurant.

‘Hi,’ said Emily, ‘Come, sit, enjoy …’ She indicated a couple of spare chairs at the table she and Jamie sat at. A full ashtray, torn Rizla packets, a bag of weed, a tobacco pouch and five empty beer bottles littered the table top between Emily and Jamie.

‘I really think we’d better keep this short, hey, sweetie,’ said Charlotte as she and Liam walked towards the table. ‘The others are going to get worried, right …?’

‘I just want to see if they have any weed to spare,’ said Liam.

Hours later the pair of them were as wasted as the others. That’s when the gatecrashers arrived. The music and noise from the party had attracted enough zombies by this point to be a real problem, only no one was in a condition to notice or care. Not until the crowd outside started pounding on the tall windows underneath the ‘Mamma Mia’ restaurant awning. ‘Shiiiit,’ said Maggie, spotting the zombies from where she sat at a table opposite Chris and Morgan, both busy skinning up. ‘D’you think we should –’ A crack formed in one of the single glazed windows from the pressure of the zombies pushing up against it and snaked its way up the height of the glass. Then, with a shattering sound, glass flew inwards. Zombies spilled into the restaurant.

Reaction time for incredibly stoned and pissed people is not that fast. In fact, for a while no one moved at all. Morgan and Chris had been bitten and generally pulled apart before the others could act at all. Charlotte moved first, she stood and unleashed some karate moves that cleared the way long enough for Liam to remember how to use his sword. Charlotte pulled her cleaver from her belt. Joe staggered towards the zombies and tried to fight them off with his bare hands, yelling, ‘I’m an individual, not a zombie!’ He didn’t last long. Emily and Jamie tried to escape by heading upstairs. They didn’t make it.

Maggie grabbed a large bottle of Jack Daniels from behind the bar. ‘There’s too many of them,’ she said, smashing a zombie over the head with the heavy bottle. The zombie fell but three more stepped up to take its place. Zombies still poured in though the smashed window. Many more stood outside waiting to come in.

‘I’M NOT FUCKING DYING!’ yelled Charlotte, raising her cleaver and bringing it down between a zombie’s eyes.

‘And you shall not!’ said Liam, and he swung his sword, taking off three zombie heads in one go. But about the time that Maggie got bitten and pulled to the floor by five zombies, Liam and Charlotte began to think that maybe they were fucked after all.

That’s when they heard the car horn blearing. Next minute an old battered Range Rover came crashing through the already buggered window, mowing down the zombies in its path. Even before the dust had settled, Liam and Charlotte watched as the driver’s side door opened and out stepped a guy with long curly hair, a big grin and a Samurai sword. Stewart. A zombie lumbered towards him but Stewart sliced through its rotting head with his sword, taking the top part off with ease and revealing the dried and withered brain inside. Together Liam, Charlotte and Stewart finished off enough of the remaining zombies to escape from the restaurant. Not before Liam staked a severed zombie head onto the end of his sword.

Zombies staggered around in the street outside. Liam and Charlotte followed Stewart across the street to the turreted castle thing that arches above the road, where it narrows into a single lane. Under the arch, they found a door and a boarded up window. Stewart opened the door and went inside the building. Liam and Charlotte staggered in behind him. Once he’d shut and locked the door and reinforced it with a heavy filing cabinet pushed against it, Stewart led Liam and Charlotte up some stairs and into the part of the castle-like building that went above the road.

‘I’m Stewart and this is my home,’ he said, opening his arms wide. Liam and Charlotte found themselves in a big open room, a store room, with two small round windows on one side and two small arched windows on the other. It was sparsely furnished, with a king sized mattress on the floor, made up with Ralph Lauren sheets, a single mattress against a wall with a row of cushions to form a makeshift sofa, a couple of dining chairs, a small table and an acoustic guitar resting against one of the walls. Sparse but clean and tidy.

Now that they were safe, adrenaline began to wear off. ‘I’m wasted,’ groaned Liam, rubbing his forehead. ‘I don’t think I can drive.’

‘Me neither,’ said Charlotte. ‘I think I might be ... sick.’

‘Where you got to get to?’ asked Stewart. ‘And maybe I’d best go find a bucket ...’ he added, looking at Charlotte who had turned a yellowy-white.

‘Not far. Chepstow castle,’ said Liam.

‘Nice. I would offer,’ said Stewart, ‘but I can’t drive. Crashing into the sides of restaurants is the best I can do. Sleep it off here, and go back in the morning.’

‘Aye,’ said Liam. He rested his sword, complete with zombie head, against the wall near the stairs and lumbered over to the king sized mattress. He flopped down onto it.

‘But the others …’ began Charlotte. But she couldn’t stop herself sinking down onto the mattress beside Liam and, as her cleaver fell from her grasp and onto the stone floor, they both fell asleep. Dead to the world.

February 27
12.45pm Day 106
We picked up a radio broadcast. At first we thought it was a recording, but then realised it was live, and … wait for it … it’s being broadcast from Academy fm, the local radio station in Folkestone. A guy called Dave has set up a radio show providing information for survivors … what shops still have food, places to avoid because of high zombie density, where to find medical treatment.

Dave even has local bands and singers in the studio to play live. A girl called Gemma sang on the show last night, she was amazing. Stewart got all excited, what with him being a musician – not sure I’ve mentioned that, he’s a singer/songwriter, hence the guitar – and he wants to be on the radio show.

Well, looks like there’s still life in the old town yet. We’re going back to Folkestone.

Book 2

March

March

1st March, 4.30pm
For most people the worst thing about getting home after a long journey is the unpacking. For us it was deciding where the fuck home was going to be. We stopped at the Clacket Lane service station on the way back to Folkestone to fill up on petrol and pillage some supplies from the zombies that came at us from the Mcdonald’s food court. Liam and Stewart, armed with their swords, took the lead in slicing up rancid zombie heads, while me, Sam, Kay and Charlotte filled plastic bags with crappy snack food from WHSmith. The shop smelled bad. The fridges still worked ok, but the sandwiches, cakes, diary produce and pies and shit had long since passed their sell by dates and were covered with a blue and white mould. God, what I would’ve done for a fresh roast beef sandwich right then …

Zombies slain, food packed, we sat in the food court for a while to discuss our next move. ‘I can’t go back to Rendezvous Street, or anywhere near there,’ I said, remembering the day we left on New Year’s Eve. The day I saw David as I climbed into the back of the Range Rover. I’ll never forget his dead face, knowing that I’d kissed those shrivelled lips when they’d still been warm and soft. I couldn’t go back there.

‘Sandgate Castle,’ Kay suggested. ‘Or a Martello tower? Oooh, a Martello tower would be perfect for a hideout!’

‘I reckon build a base on top of Sugarloaf Hill,’ said Liam. ‘Way too steep for the zombies to climb.’

‘We’ve been freezing our arses off in a crappy castle for weeks,’ said Sam. ‘Time for somewhere with a little more luxury, right? How about taking over The Grand Hotel? Whaddya think?’

‘Nah, no way I want to be sealed up in a high class tomb,’ said Liam. ‘Let’s fuck all that. Build a tree house in a wood or something. Back to the wild.’

‘Um, I’ve not been to Folkestone before,’ said Charlotte, ‘but I’m definitely liking the sound of the luxury hotel over the build-it-yourself tree house idea.’

‘Got to say, me too,’ said Stewart.

‘Agh! This is getting us nowhere,’ I said, and I stood up and marched out of the food court. The others caught up with me in the car park, but I didn’t stop until I’d climbed into the front seat of the Mazda, crossing my arms like a sulky teenagers (which in fact I was right then). No one spoke the rest of the way to Folkestone. Kay drove, while Sam and Stewart sat in the back. Charlotte drove a Ford Transit behind us with Liam in the passenger seat and Polly in the back of the van.

It’s been eight weeks now since Polly fed Shelby to the zombies to save her own arse, and ended up breaking her leg. Too soon to know if our dodgy fracture mending technique has worked. She can put a little weight on her leg, but only if she has someone, preferable two people supporting her. Anyway, no one really gives a shit about Polly. We merely tolerate her existence.

We drove through Sandgate – remembering how blocked all the roads in and out of Folkestone had been when we left, we decided to head back in the way we came out, through Sandgate and along the road that takes you to the coastal park down on the lower Leas. That’s when I saw it – the most perfect and beautiful house. ‘Home,’ I said, pointing to the huge blue double fronted period house on a street just off Sandgate Road.

Most of the lower floor was obscured by a thick and high hedge around the front. But I could see that the place had three floors, was big enough for a family of seven, and it looked secure-ish. Most of all, it looked like home.

Kay pulled over in front of the hedge near the chest height wooden gate, flooring a zombie as she did, and stopped the Mazda. The Transit van pulled up behind us.

‘You sure?’ said Kay as she looked at the place. ‘The castle has walls and gates and, you know, an impenetrable structure …’