On Saturday morning two very excited men arrived at my house so we could rock up to Daresbury in the north of England to visit Zed Events – The Manor. One was a bouncing Big Rich, 6 foot 8 of enthusiastic Zombie fan. The other our very own young Scott Berryman who, rather than being a wannabe soldier like us, is actually in the military.

Our mode of transport was a bright orange G4 Land Rover, packed by Big Rich with everything you would need to survive the apocalypse such as Shovels, axes etc. None of which would actually be required but we felt it was important to look the part.

Big Rich posing by the Orange Love Bus

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‘To bottomless perdition, there to dwell’

For a few seconds he dozed in that wonderful head space between consciousness and unconsciousness. He was warm and well rested, the Egyptian cotton enveloping his form. Then, one by one, each fresh injury made itself apparent. There was a slightly twisted knee here, a bruised and slashed shoulder there, a jaw ache, and a muscular twinge under his shoulder blades. The peaceful feeling left him and he tried to turn over to see if that orientation was more comfortable. As he turned a pain shot through his cheek and he realised the pillow was stuck to his face, a consequence of the weeping graze from his fall from the estate wall. The plasma had formed a crust inter-weaved with the soft fabric of the expensive down pillows. (more…)

Sequel to CONSEQUENCES

John slowly awoke. It took him several seconds to remember where he was. He was used to waking up in a strange house or in the back seat of a car but this was the first time he’d woken up in a helicopter.

Rubbing his tired eyes, and stretching as much as he was able in the cramped confines, he looked out the window at the countryside passing by. Every now and then he caught sight of a zombie stumbling across an empty field. For some reason they never seemed to look up and notice the helicopter. (more…)

Sequel to SALVATION

Jeff Robinson sat in the chair and waited for his inevitable death. In fact he wasn’t as much sat in the chair, as strapped in. Think leather fastenings were secured tightly round his ankles, thighs, wrists, arms and waist. He looked around the empty room, moving only his eyes as his head was held firmly in place by the metal cap tightly fixed to it. It reminded him of a room where prisoners on TV shows were taken just before receiving several thousand volts in the electric chair. The irony wasn’t lost on him. (more…)

Sequel to DEADLY COMMUTE

Daniel lay dead to the world. It felt like the best rest he had had in ages as he slowly opened his eyes and thought it about time he rose. The fact that his head was lying on a tiled surface did not alert him, nor what seemed like the distant screams of people locked in hand to hand fighting, it was the sight of a middle aged business woman, on her knees, trying to pull the heels from her stilettos out of some huge guys ears as he lay on the ground. At this he awoke with a jump and everything came flooding back to him; the fighting outside the train, the driver getting bit and then her head being cut off as she tried to attack them and then him leading a group of commuters against a bunch of zombies so they could escape the platform. (more…)

1

Steve Blum scowled in pure hate as he heard the cackle of the old woman. How he hated her. He hated her more than he hated the roaming dead. They had an excuse for what they did. They were dead and, if the scientists were to be believed, simply acting on instinct. She, however, did it because she was senile. The hag was a drain on their resources, and Steve had made this very clear many times. Not only did she take up room in the already crowded refuge but also she wasted their supply of food and water. Not to mention the time it took to look after her. As long as she was awake then someone had to be with her at all times.

He said a small prayer of thanks to whoever may be listening that it wasn’t him today. She seemed to be acting up more than usual. Making stupid noises and, no doubt, causing trouble for whoever was unlucky enough to have to keep an eye on her. (more…)

Sequel to WAITING

James Saxton stood up and allowed the two guards to each hold an arm as he was led out of his small cell. He was drugged, he was sure of it. There was no way he would let these men take him to his death without a fight otherwise. Not that there was much he could do about it anyway. His wrists and ankles were shackled together and a sturdy chain linked the two.

As he shuffled past the other cells he groggily looked at the faces of people he thought he knew staring back. The fear in their eyes was obvious, but he wasn’t afraid. Just another sign he was sure he’d been drugged. There must have been something in his final meal. It still tasted good though. He’d forgotten the last time he’d had such a beautifully cooked steak, such perfect fries and peas so fresh they could have been straight from the pods, and a chilled beer as well. He wasn’t sure they would go for that request, but they had allowed him one last frosty cold one. (more…)

The tightrope walker places one foot upon the high wire.

The audience draws in, eager to witness his feat.

He presses down with his right foot, testing the line.

Would like more rope tension…

Would like a drop in the breeze …

Would like a safety harness…

………but the audience is waiting. (more…)

Jim Bramer, Minister of Special Circumstances, stood and gazed out of the grimy rain-slick window of The Houses of Parliament office that was his home. Casually he picked at the damp peeling paint on the window sill, and dropped the flakes onto the aging, stained carpet. The office was once opulent in the seat of government, now faded and ruined as the city around him. He looked out into the night, and the further he looked west, the more dread snatched at him. He could feel the rising panic in the city below, queues of shabby workers rushing down Abingdon Street towards Westminster Bridge and the Isle of Dogs. They moved together in the vain hope there was still a boat with a friendly Captain. In his office he could hear the murmurs and shouts of the crowd, people shoving and arguing, fear barely concealed as they hurried along. Bramer knew that all the boats were gone, and that Death was coming. He knew this because The Minister had phoned him and told him so. (more…)

Waking at 6.00am Daniel usually struggled to open his eyes, but this morning he felt fresh. Last night had been a nightmare. Trying new tactics had worked well at first but soon his small band of fighters had been split up and went down like rookies. Daniel was the last man left to fight off the incoming horde and the adrenalin got him through the first few kills but there were too many. Just before he was wiped out though the server went down and X-Box Live was out for the rest of the evening. As a result he’d had an early night and with tomorrow being Good Friday he looked forward to meeting up with his friends in the pub after work and a long weekend. (more…)

Mummy and Daddy have stopped shouting at each other and now I am just bored again. My DS has run out of battery and Dad didn’t pack the charger for the car. He shouted “There are more important things than your bloody DS!” at me when I asked if it was in the boot. In fact this is the worst car journey I have ever been on. We have been stuck on the motorway for hours with nothing moving, and the girl in the car next to ours keeps making faces at me and sticking two fingers up at me. Spotty cow. (more…)