28 May 2014
I've put together a list of things too take with me, and a rough idea for where to go. I'm going to try to head up through London and grab a train north, aiming towards the lake district, or failing that, the Yorkshire moors. There are plenty of areas there which are unpopulated, the occasional rambler here and there, but overall it should be safer.
I'll be taking my phone and iPod with me, although I'm not sure how long the battery will hold out. Two changes of clothes, and my savings, almost two hundred pounds in cash. I'm going to pack enough food to get me there, after which I'll live off the land. I know that I can survive on the meat and flesh of animals, so that will do.
So, this is my life. From promising student to crazy man in the hills.
29 May 2014
I've finished packing. Just one backpack, enough to hold what I'll need. I'm going to slip away tonight, late, before my parents get up. The last thing I want to do is worry them.
But first, I need to talk to Archer.
I can't explain this to him, not in any way that he can understand. But if I have to say goodbye, I want to make sure he knows how I feel.
We met this afternoon in town. It was overcast and close to rain. We spoke about little things, unimportant things. I can't help but think that maybe I wasted so much time saying unimportant things.
In the end, we held each other’s hands and I promised that, even if we were apart, we would still always be together.
30 May 2014
I left the house at three and made my way across town. I didn't leave any notes, because even if I did, what would I tell them? No, it was better to leave quickly and silently.
The train station was empty by the time I got there. I waited almost an hour, running my hands together to keep the morning chill away. At last, the train arrived and I slipped on board. When they guard made his patrol, I slipped into the bathroom to avoid him. Doing so twice during the train ride, I arrived in London just before noon.
That was where I ran into trouble. As I left the train, I was surrounded by the crowds of people as they made their way through the automate barriers. I glanced around nervously, looking for a way out. But there was no other route out of the station except from the barriers - and I had no ticket.
After putting it off for almost half an hour, I decided to brave the crowd. I walked up to the barrier and found one of the guards. She was a short black woman, with a thick Caribbean accent. I tried to tell her that I had lost my ticket, that it had been stolen, but she seemed to be personally angry with me. She seemed irritated that I even dared to breath or exist near her, and snapped at me sharply that I had to pay for the train ride before she would let me out. When I asked her how much I owed, she told me that it was the cost of the train ticket, plus a hefty fine. The total came to almost three hundred pounds.
At that point, I realised that I wasn't going to get anywhere. I shoved her, as hard as I could, and tried to clamber over the barrier. Three guards were already hurrying after me, and as I tripped over the barrier, two of them grabbed at me. They hauled me to my feet and started to pull me towards the transport police office. As one of them tried to secure me, I yanked at my arms and felt my wrist snap as I pulled it from the officers grip. I ran frantically through the station, my arm hanging at my side, broken.
I didn't stop running through the crowds, shoving my way through, for almost two hours.
So, here I am. I found my way into one of London's parks, possibly Hyde, I lost track along the way. I've curled up under one of the trees. The grass is warm and soft, so I should be able to rest here for a bit.
31 May 2014
In the evening, the police came along and woke me up. I told them that I was a student, had been reading under the tree and lost track of time and dozed off. They told me to head off home, and I left the park. I walked through the city in moonlight, looking at the people. London at night is about as busy as London during the day, hectic and bright and full of life. And danger, I realised. With each step, I felt the beast prowling in my footsteps, ready to turn to the nearest person and feast.
I decided to start walking north. It took a while, but I eventually left the main sphere of the city, and found my way to one of the many motorways that lead off from London. If I kept to walking in sight of the verge of the road, I thought, I'd eventually find another city, or even just a town. Once there, I plan to try hoping onto a train again, perhaps with more luck than at London Victoria.
June
1 June 2014
It took me until midday to get out of the main city and into the council house areas, and until the late evening before I got to the suburbs. Who decided that London should be this big, anyway? By the time it got dark, I had managed to locate a motorway, and had got far enough out of the city to see the line of some trees, but now it's very dark and I can only see from the light of cars. I've found a thick area of bushes over some soft earth to sleep tonight.
I hope mom and dad are alright.
2 June 2014
My iPod battery ran out of charge today.
My feet are aching, and I'm starting to run low on the meat that I'd packed. I'm going to try to hunt some wild animal tonight.
3 June 2014
I still haven't seen any villages. All I've seen are fields, copses of trees, and the rumbling sound of the motorway.
Earlier today, I got close to the verge and a car pulled over. I was terrified that it was going to be some kind of weird old man, one of those guys you read about in the newspapers who rape and murder teenage boys. Instead, it was an elderly couple who asked if I was lost and needed a lift. I told them that I was fine, but by the time it got dark and I had been unable to find even a rabbit or fox to eat, I was wishing that I'd taken them up on it.
4 June 2014
At some time after noon, I realised that I couldn't hear the motorway.
I don't know when I lost sight of it. It could have been yesterday, it might have been today. I genuinely don't know.
I should have packed a compass. I don't even know which direction I'm traveling in. All I've been able to do is watch the sun move across the sky as I trudge through muddy fields and keep walking onwards.
5 June 2014
I had a nightmare last night. I was running through the forest, and the beast was with me. I could hear it's paws thundering on the ground beside me. We were hunting. Together, we saw the prey - a fox, sleek and sharp. I charged forward, descending upon it, faster than it could move, faster than any normal man. I brought my teeth down upon it. That was when I noticed that the beast was no longer with me. But when I glanced down to look at the fox between my teeth, I saw it held in place by a sleek, black muzzle.
I woke with a start and tried to catch my breath. My face was wet, and a small dog lay on the ground beside me, half eaten.
6 June 2014
I’ve been walking for what seems like forever. I had lost sight of any farms, any forests. I didn’t know where I was going, I was lost. The plants around me had grown tall, almost up to my waist, and the ground beneath me was muddy and felt disgusting to walk on.
That was when I heard the sound. A distant, rumbling, a soft roar. At first I thought that it had to be a train – what else could it be? I hurried forwards, through the undergrowth. I was desperate. A train could lead me anywhere – somewhere.
The ground beneath me gradually sifted from dirt and mud, growing fine and thin. The plants around me became whip-like reeds, and that’s when I noticed that I was running on sand.
The beach loomed ahead of me, and I stood facing the sea.
I felt my legs give out and I collapsed onto the soft sand. Where the hell was I? I cried. What else could I do?
7 June 2014
Late this afternoon, I found a farm.
The windows of the farm house were dim, dark, caked with deep set grime. As I hurried closer, I realised how silent the farm was, without even the whine of machines or the cluck of poultry. I pushed my han
ds against the window and smeared some of the dirt aside. Peering through, the interior was lost in a haze of shadows.
I slipped slowly around the house, finding the front door. It had been boarded up. No, I thought, it had been made secure. The house was uninhabited, and had been for a while.
I tried with all my strength to break through the door and, when the boards proved too strong, eventually broke a window into the kitchen. I fumbled for the window latch, eventually finding it and pulling the window free. As I slipped through into the house, I stumbled over the sink and fell to the floor. It was graceless, but I'd managed it nonetheless.
The kitchen was empty, with the shelves holding only a layer of dust. I quickly moved around the rest of the house, searching for anything useful. One of the bedrooms had an old mattress, dirty and ill-fitting but more comfortable than the mud outside.
A thought came to me. I could live here, I thought. I could linger here, for as long as I needed. It would be safer than the open road, drier, more comfortable. But gradually, as the sun set and I found nothing to set any light around the old house, I came to think of the old farm house in the movie 'Night of the Living Dead'. I could survive here, I thought, sure, for a while. But people would come, eventually. And what would I do then? No, I'll leave here in the morning, and keep going.
8 June 2014
I've followed the road from the farm. After sleeping in a soft patch of grass next to the road, I wound my way through some hills until I found a small village. When I say that it was small, I mean that it had about eight buildings in total. A church, a post office, a small shop, four houses and a pub. The entire place seems surreal, strange, like something from a movie set in the thirties.
I walked into the pub to find it almost entirely deserted. Nobody was drinking, and the only person there was the bar lady. She looked at me with a curious expression. "Can I help you?" she asked me.
I walked over to the bar. "Is there a train station around here?" I asked, nervously.
She shook her head. "Not 'round here, son. Nearest one's a good twenty miles from here."
That was better than I'd hoped. "Thank you" I said.
She looked at me with that strange expression again and said "Where are your parents?"
I didn't know what to say. I mumbled "They're around." I paused for a bit, and said "Don't suppose there's anywhere to stay for the night around here?"
She told me that they had rooms, and would let me sleep there for the night. When I asked how much, she shook her head and said "Don't you worry about that, son. So long as you promise to phone your parents in the morning, alright?"
I agreed.
The room was really nice. It was small, but had nice dark wood timbers on the walls and a very soft bed. As I was getting ready to sleep, the bar lady knocked on the door. She gave me a plate of hot pork and potatoes. "We had some left over" she said. I know that she was lying. Maybe she was trying to make me remember what it feels like to be home.
It worked.
9 June 2014
I left early in the morning. I didn't call my parents. What would I tell them if I did, anyway? They wouldn't understand.
I walked for most of the day, following the road. At one point, I crossed a small river, almost tripping on the wet stones that I had to use to hop from one side to the other.
By the time it was dark, I had no sign of the town. I miss the little village pub. I miss home.
10 June 2014
It started to rain early in the afternoon, and did not stop all day. I started to shiver, and realised that I didn’t bring anything to keep me warm or dry.
Sometime when the sun was past noon, I found – almost stumbled over – a set of train tracks. I know that I’d gone off the route, but this had to be the way to the town. I was tempted to walk along the tracks, like people do in the old films, but I knew that if a train were to truly use the tracks, I’d likely be fried before I knew what had hit me. I kept them in sight, and trudged on through the rain and the mud. All of my changes of clothes are caked in mud now. But I’m going to follow the track until it takes me where I’m trying to go. Wherever that might be.
11 June 2014
I found the town with a train station. I was so relieved that I can't even believe it. I grabbed some food at the local shop and checked out the station. Trains only arrived every hour, so I waited around for one.
When it arrived, I hopped on. After about two hours the guard started making his rounds. I tried to rush into the bathroom, but when I came out, I found that he had been waiting for me.
He questioned me for a while - who I was, where I was going. I refused to answer, and he called the next station to tell them to have a few police ready to take me off the train.
They marched me off the train when it was getting dark. By the time they took me to the station, I was so tired that I was just begging them to let me get some sleep. The officer actually seemed really nice. He asked me if I had run away from home, and he seemed properly concerned. He said that after I had my prints and photo taken, they'd let me sleep for a while.
He was good to his word, and let me have a cell to sleep in for the night. He apologised to me, telling me that he could see that I was obviously a good kid, but that it was all that they had to offer. I was too tired to argue.
12 June 2014
A different officer woke me up today. I was surprised when he told me that it was already afternoon - I'd slept most of the day. He told me that they thought that I was suffering from exhaustion.
He took me into a room and asked me if I knew where we were, what city we were in. I told him that I had no idea. He told me that I couldn't stay in the cells, but because I'm a minor, they can only release me to a parent. I told them that I couldn't go back home. He left to get me a drink, and came back almost an hour later with another man. The other man asked me a lot of questions about my home life - if I was running away because of my parents, if someone hit me or touched me, that kind of thing. I told them over and over that it was nothing like that.
Eventually he asked if I was gay and having trouble with my family. Guess that just happen a lot. I mean, a real lot.
But I told them it wasn't something that happened to me. And at the end of the day, they told me that they were going to contact one of the guys from social care. I asked them what that meant, and they told me that I'd probably be put into care. I told them that it couldn't possibly happen that fast, that they couldn't just put me into care or give me to a foster family or whatever overnight like that. Then the officer looked sad and said that no, I'd be put in juvenile detention until then.
I asked them when that would happen. They said that they would send the paperwork over this evening. I'd be sent out tomorrow.
I woke up in the cell during the middle of the night, and asked to speak to one of the officers. I waited almost an hour. When one came to see me, I told him my parents’ names and phone numbers.
I just want to sleep, but I can’t manage it. I can’t stop from shaking. I wish I could, but I can’t stop shaking.
13 June 2014
My parents arrived just after one in the afternoon.
I barely heard the officers speaking to them. They mentioned something about exhaustion and that I should see a doctor. They gave me a blanket. My parents didn’t say much. The last thing I remember was shuffling into the back of dad’s car. I closed my eyes and everything went dark.
14 June 2014
I woke up sometime during the night. I'd been having a nightmare, a dream of claws in the darkness. My eyes felt very heavy. I tried to look around. The walls were a cold white shade, and the bed felt stiff. That's when I realised that I was lying on a bed.
I turned to look to my right. Someone had left me a get well card. My arm tingled. I looked down and saw a thin needle inserted into my forearm, leaking fluid from a clear tube. I was in a hospital, I realised.
15 June 2014
When I woke up, a woman was standing by the be
d. She had a name tag that said Smithson on it. She seemed glad to see that I was awake. Nurse Smithson said that I had been talking in my sleep. Something about claws and teeth.
It kinda feels as if the space behind my eyes really hurts.
16 June 2014
I've been sliding in and out of sleep. It's so difficult to focus. I think, if I try very hard, I can remember my mother sitting beside the bed, talking to me.
I remember the dreams more. I dreamed of a figure walking behind me, following in my footsteps with each step. I kept turning to see him, but each time I did, he slid barely out of my line of sight.
17 June 2014
Today I spent more time awake than asleep. It was boring, I spent most of the time staring at the monochrome ceiling.
At one point, nurse Smithson came in and checked on my readings. She spoke to me and told me that if I was starting to feel better, they could discharge me tomorrow, because they needed the bed.
I looked over the diary entries I wrote three days ago. God, my handwriting was awful. I must have been weaker than I thought.
18 June 2014
I had the dream of the figure following me again. But I managed to turn and see who it was that was walking behind me. It was Mr Price. Or at least, what was left of him. He had stood there looking at me, accusing me, and then started to scream at me.
I asked nurse Smithson if there was any meat for dinner. She told me that with the funding the NHS gets, it's lucky that they can afford the plates.
I spoke to mom and dad today. They didn't talk about why I left or where I'd gone. They asked how I was feeling ("yes, better"), if I was hungry ("quite a bit"), if I could walk ("a little bit, but then I feel tired"), all that kind of thing.
Diary of a Gay Teenage Zombie Page 9