Artefact 299: Accounts of the Zombie Apocalypse
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Artefact 299:
Accounts of the Zombie Apocalypse
L.A. Binley
Copyright © 2021 by L.A. Binley
The right of L.A. Binley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
Paperback ISBN: 978 1 7399673 1 4
E-Book ISBN : 978 1 7399673 0 7
Cover design by Stone Ridge Books
Edited by N.N. Light Editing Services
First Edition: October 2021
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Days 4, 5, and 6
Day 7
Days 8 and 9
Day 10
Day 11
Day 11 Continued
Days 12 and 13
Day 14
Day 15
Days 16, 17, and 18
Day 19
Day 19 Continued
Day 20
Day 20 Continued
Days 21, 22, 23, and 24
Day 25
Day 26
Days 27, 28, and 29
Day 30
Day 30 Continued
Day 31
Day 32
Day 32 Continued
Day 33
Day 34
Day 34 Continued
Day 35
Day 36
Day 36 Continued
Day 37
Day 38
Day 39
Day 40
Days 41 and 42
Day 43
Day 44
Days 45 and 46
Day 47
Day 48
Day 49
Days 50 and 51
Day 52
Day 53
Days 54, 55, and 56
Day 57
Day 58
Days 59, 60, and 61
Days 62, 63, and 64
Classified Dossier
For Todd, without you I would have never had the idea to create this book.
Day 1
Time becomes meaningless after a while. The passing of days is only noted by the rising and setting of the sun. I guess it really was a human constraint. Even the passing of days is a luxury now. They all blur into one endless loop of running and trying to find a safe space to sleep. Now we're no longer safe, no longer have the luxury to mark the passing of days. I struggle to. It's one of the reasons I made my promise. After everything that's happened, you'd have thought a promise wouldn't be so important. Maybe I struggle to let go of the old ways?
One day, when this is all over and done, someone will read this, and they'll understand. At least I hope they'll understand what we went through. The terror, the sleep deprivation, the real truth of what we suffered through. Always the optimist, Anna, it might get you killed one day. I have to hope. If I run out of hope, why try to carry on living? Why try to survive this?
There's a noise behind me. It doesn't sound safe. I wish I could go one day without running.
Day 2
I miss electricity. I can't remember how long it's been since I last used it, but I miss it. The artificial lights, the constant connection to the rest of the world. Being able to see without squinting when the sun has gone down. It seemed so natural before, something that would always be there. Maybe if we had more renewable sources, we could have still used them now? I don't know if it would have drawn the hordes quicker, but what I wouldn't do for electricity or central heating! Scratch that, there are some things I wouldn't do. But nostalgia's a bitch when you can't change a single thing
If you thought this was going to be some sugar-coated reality, you're looking for the wrong thing. Could I make this into a plucky diary of my survival? Maybe? It would be easy to lie. To pretend that I'm not alone every day. To pretend there's some way to survive this. Miss some details here, gloss over some facts there. Fiction would be a nice change to my reality, but that's not the point of this diary. It would be great if everything turned out okay, and all the problems disappeared, but that's not life anymore.
My life is keeping hold of what moves me forward. Like the broken phone in my pocket. I found it on the side of the road, left behind once it was of no use. The screen was smashed, and the battery was flat, but I still picked it up. I wanted to cry, give up and cry. It was stupid really. There's no need for extra weight, especially for something that doesn't do anything, but it reminded me of the past. Something I could keep with me. Maybe it will be a keepsake when the world is back to normal. There are constant reminders of our old lives everywhere. The streetlamps are still there, the cars are abandoned, and there's this phone. Useless and pointless, but oddly reassuring. They have a grounding effect on me. Keeping me going when I feel like giving in.
Day 3
I flicked through the scrawlings and scribbles from the past couple of days. I thought I’d done so much more, put so many more thoughts down and I’ve not even given you the basics. This has been my reality for such a short while, but it’s taken over everything. How are you supposed to introduce yourself in these things? It's not like my old teenage diaries where I used to start everything off with an introduction to myself:
“Hi, I’m Anna Louise Smith. I’m 27 years old. My favourite colour is blue. When I’m older, I hope to be alive. My favourite part about living in North Wales is that I have mountains and coastlines I can visit, but never do.”
I may have cringed more than I have ever done before writing that. A small part of me regressed to my younger self, the band tees and ripped skinny jeans calling me from beyond the grave. At least if I could go back, I wouldn’t be living through this. I wouldn’t be having to try every house I go past to see if I can have safety for a night.
Was this the world anyone imagined? We were told the world was doomed, but never in this way. My thoughts won’t concentrate on anything important to share. Maybe next time I will have more ideas to fill the page.
Days 4, 5, and 6
I'm not the best person to have started this. I don't remember to pick up my pen and add in my thoughts. Whoever picks this up will have half-remembered accounts of sleepless nights and fear mixed with bitter attempts at optimism. I hope I'm not the only person to make an account of this outbreak. Outbreak, maybe outbreak isn't the right word, but it feels better than calling it what it is. A zombie apocalypse. At least that's the words I've heard bandied about. I mean, is it really what they are? Even though I'm living through it, I'm still sceptical. Everything I've ever read about zombies has led me to believe they are scientifically impossible. But here I am, in the middle of this zombie outbreak, hoping this day won't be my last.
It seems like everything changed so recently, but it must be at least a couple of months. I don't know if I've managed to move around too much. I don't feel like I've seen that many different places, but I've never stayed in one place for too long. It wouldn't surprise
me if I'm doubling back on myself. If that's the case, I'm not too worried about it. If I stay in one similar area, I might be able to bump into someone else. The idea of being truly alone terrifies me. Before this, I didn't mind that I'd chosen my isolated loneliness. I'm starting to realise there's a difference between being alone in a world full of people and being one of the only people alive.
One of the few things I'm thankful for is that I lived in the outskirts when everything happened. Not many people made it out alive. At least the reports in the first couple of days gave the impression that there weren't many survivors. I was one of the last people to leave my small village. It always seemed quiet before, but just before I left, it was like a ghost town. I might have been the last person there. Those who owned a car left quickly, but I'd never been able to afford one. Why would I need it when I could walk to work, and to get food? I've been regretting my thrifty decision though.
Walking to escape has been slow going. I sometimes wish I could stumble across a discarded bike, but who would leave one lying around? If one has been left, someone else has found it before me. I've tried the few abandoned cars, but they're abandoned for a reason. Yeah, the engines turn on, but they don't have any fuel in them. I have tried sweeping through the radio stations. It's what everyone does in the films, don't look at me like that. But there was nothing, no stations were left running, not even Classic FM. There were no amateur broadcasts telling people where to go to survive. There was only static. A dead white noise. After the first few times, I've stopped trying. There's only so many times you can take your hopes being dashed.
I haven't given up hope entirely. If I was trying to keep people safe, I don't think I'd be interested in setting up a radio broadcast either. I'd want to keep the people with me safe. And if there are people out there, organising somewhere safe to go, it doesn't mean I won't ever run into them.
Day 7
I stumbled across one of them today. It was dead. Or would it be re-dead? Can a zombie truly be dead? Inanimate maybe. All I know is it wasn't moving, and from the looks of it, I'd say it hadn't been moving for a while. I rounded a corner of a small cul-de-sac, and it was there. I jumped. I could feel my heart rate increase, but as I focused on it, I realised it couldn't do anything to hurt me. I zeroed in on the state of its face. Fragments of bones covered in what only looked like ooze. Throwing up wasn't on my list of things to do today, but I couldn't keep it down. The scattered parts and the smell conspired against me. I don't know how I missed the smell before I turned the corner. I wish it had warned me to turn around. I tried not to continue looking at it, but it pulled me in. It could almost make you feel sympathy for it. Almost.
I don't know who managed to kill this one, but I'm thankful. In the short space of time that these have been an issue, I've found that I'm no good at killing them. Even after the past few weeks, I'm still squeamish. If throwing up at the sight of one of them hadn't already given that away. I used to think if the time came, I would be able to do something unpleasant. I'm a disappointment even to myself. Even when it's literally my life hanging in the balance, I can't manage it.
I did try to kill one, right at the start. I had a cricket bat I'd found in someone's shed, and I smacked it over the head. I thought one quick hit would be enough for me to be on my way. I'd managed to sneak up on it from behind and thwack! It didn't have enough force behind it. I went to hit it again, but as it turned around, the mangled mess I'd made of it caused me to throw up. Luckily, I'd been travelling with a couple of other people then. If I hadn't, this diary wouldn't be a thing.
I sometimes wonder what happened to Matt and Kelly. We parted ways before I started writing this diary. It was them who convinced me to start writing it. They were saying how someone should keep a record of what was happening, and then when they'd gone, I stumbled across some notebooks and pens. It seemed like fate. And it gives me someone to talk to. My plan is to find other people, specifically my family. It's why I'm now here on my own, talking to a diary as if it can respond. I could have gone with them, they asked me to, but I need to know that my family is okay. I like to think they're still alive and well somewhere. If I'm surviving, I'm convinced they will be as well.
Days 8 and 9
How have I managed to last this long? I ask myself this all the time. I wouldn't be surprised if you're asking it as well. Honestly? I have no clue. I'm doing better than I ever thought I would. I wasn't one of those people who had a zombie survival plan. Why would I? The likelihood of it happening was slim to none. Even science pointed to it being something that couldn't be done. It seemed like a waste of time, like exercising. There was so much more I could be doing with my time. Why do something that's not necessary and takes time away from other things? I thought my walking every day would be enough to avoid exercise. It's not enough now.
If you'd asked anyone who knew me how likely I would be to last more than a day in an apocalypse situation, most would have said not at all likely. But here I am a few months later. The travel has been slow going. Partially because I'm taking long roundabout ways to go in a straight line. This has helped me so much as I've evaded most of what is out here. It doesn't matter what noise I hear; I try and get out of the way. I know I said I wanted to find other people, but I'm worried I won't be able to trust them. Just because I never had a plan, doesn't mean that I never read any books, or watched any TV shows or films. Humanity never exists in a world like this. A world where people do what's right for the sake of it? I don't know if it's only for the drama, but it's given me a fear of others. I hate not being able to trust people. It makes the sense of isolation even stronger.
It might seem like I'm over-reacting, and maybe I am. A little hysteria never hurt anyone, right? Deep down, I feel it's okay to overreact when you're in an apocalypse-like situation. Maybe it's the only time no one can judge you for it? I still don't want to dwell on it too much. It's easy to spiral when you have no one to keep you grounded. I want to avoid it as much as possible.
Day 10
If I don't make a note of this now, I won't remember to do it. I know that I've already forgotten some of it, but I'm trying to remember all the important parts. This diary is worthless if I don't make important notes.
Earlier today I had the fright of my life, which is saying a lot with how the world has turned upside down. My first few hours walking took me down a secluded area with more trees than usual. The world emitted peaceful energy. My worries were falling from my mind, allowing me to feel free from the horror. I can still feel the breeze caressing my arms. Unfortunately, I had to head further away from the open space as I needed to find somewhere to pee. But my safe spot was apparently not as safe as I thought it was.
I was transported into my very own jump-scare video. I was almost face-to-face with it before I even realised it was there. I still don't know how I managed to sneak up on it. I don't know how I'm alive. My stomach sank, anxiety-induced nausea flooded my body. Luckily, it didn't hear me or smell me. But I don't know how. Maybe their senses aren't as great as we all thought? How are they able to reduce the world to this if they can't find us?
I held back a scream bubbling on my lips and tongue. The world around me stilled, I was a rabbit waiting for the lights to hit. The fear rising through my chest was deafening. I wanted to run, run as fast as I could in the opposite direction, but I couldn't move. I was rooted in place. My fear seeping out and grounding in this one place, an arm's width away from my death. My mind went blank. No thoughts or plans made themselves aware.
I couldn't see anything, or anyone else, around us. Not that I spent much time looking around me, but the zombie didn't seem interested in me at all. Did I not appear as prey anymore? Had I spent so much time fleeing that I had lost my human appearance? I haven't let my mind dwell on what it means too much. The only time I think back to it is to offer thanks. Thanks to whoever is looking out for me and keeping me safe.
Eventually, I felt my limbs unstick. The fear still lingered in my thoughts, b
ut adrenaline won out. I took a small step back, my eyes trained on the decaying form in front of me. One wrong move and I wouldn't be here to tell this story. It never looked toward me. I took another step back. Still, it continued down the road in front of me. I ran. I ran for as long as I could and then I pushed myself to go for even longer. My chest burned, my thighs ached, and I could taste blood at the back of my throat. I pushed myself, not caring about the direction, to make sure I was as far away as possible from what I'd left behind.
I don't think running with wild abandon was my best idea. My supplies are low and I have no idea where I am. Making your way to new cities doesn't help with the disorientated feeling. I like to pretend I know what I'm doing. But I am so lost. I don't have a clue where my mum or brother will be, and I don't know if I can stomach cold, tinned food much longer. Think positive Anna, everything will be okay. If you pretend for long enough, you'll forget everything that's changed.
Day 11
I don't know why it's taken me this long to realise, but I have no idea how I'm going to find anyone. Not my family, not random people also looking for safety. I don't know where I'm going. My sense of direction has never been great, and I've never owned a compass or a map. It's why it's taking me so long to get anywhere. The past few days I've tried to increase my speed. I think I've gone further than I have before. I'm further down a motorway than I was before, but I'm not sure if this was the best route to take. I feel so lost, and I can't even sit and cry about it as it will give me less of a chance of getting out of this situation. I want to wallow in the rubbish life I've found myself in. My hope of finding my family is slowly dwindling. Disappearing into that place where all my hopes for life have gone in the past few months. I can't work out where they will have gone to, and I think heading to their houses will be pointless. They won't have waited around.