I even went for a walk one evening. Hoping to see someone but all I saw were shadows most nights. One night however I saw something very different. I didn’t know what it was at the time, I thought it was the weed playing tricks on me! I could have sworn I saw a couple in a car, one on top of the other. I thought one was eating the throat of the other. I freaked out and ran home but convinced myself it was just two dirt-birds fucking in the car with the lights off! I mean, who really gives a shit anymore anyway? It’s not like they are going to get arrested!
Feb 21
The next morning I went out again. My food was running low and I had completed Assassin’s Creed and Skyrim a few too many times (I wasn’t bored of it then). I wanted to go and find the doggers, not for any perverted reasons. I wanted to find them to convince myself that it WAS doggers and not what I feared…unfortunately it was. The passenger side front door of the red Ford focus lay open. An arm had slumped out of the seat just skimming the pavement. As I approached the car my fears were realised. Shit I thought, why couldn’t it have just been the weed? The sight made me sick, yea right in the middle of the road, blew chunks all over the ground and myself. Not pretty.
Let me back track again just a bit. When all this shit started it was known as “the standing” it was a typical Thursday afternoon around 3:30pm. Parents had picked the kids up from school, trying to get the weekly shop in at ASDA and that’s when it happened.
I was picking up a wee meal deal from the deli counter, just enough to keep me going, three sausage rolls, packet of McCoy’s, Kit-Kat, Chunky and a Diet Coke, because I was cutting back on the old waist line! I was heading back toward the car and it was weird. There was no explosion, no blinding light or ear splitting noise. People had simply frozen, just stuck in position. Like musical statues, not moving. They maintained their positions for about five minutes, the length of time it took me to walk across the car park to my banged up motor.
In all that time I had never heard silence quite like it. Have you ever heard the sound the key makes when you plug it into the car door? I mean like REALLY heard it? No? Well these bastards did! Half the car park turned to me at once, eyes milky white, blood running down their chins from where they had bitten their tongues or lips. Not a nice site, that’s when they started towards me.
Collective, congregational growls, then the screams started. People all around were jumping on each other, dragging people to the ground, sinking teeth deep into flesh and tearing limbs from bodies. You think Gears of War prepares you for the gore, but trust me it doesn’t. Well if you’re reading then you know. You have to become someone else to survive this Ballox!
Gripping the door I jumped in, slammed it shut, ticked over the engine and sped like a bat out of hell, or a bat out of Asda to be true. It was crazy; those who made it to the cars were all racing for the exits, boots open, green and white bags flying everywhere. I did notice, funny enough, that in all the panic and adrenalin fuelled excitement, people still stuck to the one way system! Weird right? Still polite and respectful even at the start of the apocalypse.
Where was I? Oh aye, Asda car park. So I gun-hoed it out of there, over the roundabouts, down the carriageway and into the estate. I didn’t know why I was heading back to my flat but it just felt right. Besides I had bought a week’s shopping, and I needed a microwave for half of it! So there I stayed, watched my world fall to shit on TV and online. We were totally cut off from everyone.
The Brits wanted nothing to do with us and no aid came from the yanks. They all just watched and studied us. I couldn’t take it. I felt like a fucking goldfish in a small tank at the pet store, with snotty-nosed little shits knocking the glass and laughing!
Feb 23
What did I tell ya before? I’ve never kept a diary and my attention span is so bad I know myself and I know I could never tell my story in one sitting. So, back on track, the puke?
Yea. So what I saw was unlike the gore you see in movies and games. I thought I was de-sensitised to all that but it turns out not. The man, and I can only guess he was a dude because of the blood stained arsenal t-shirt that was ripped open and the baggy jeans with a chain attached to his wallet, he had no face. His head was still attached only for his very visible spine! Blood had squirted over the windshield and all of the windows from the inside. Imagine a water balloon filled to the brim with blood, then strapped to a firework.
After I had emptied my stomach and cleaned my chin, the shaking had stopped, I composed myself and reality slapped me on the face as I looked up. In all the shock and disgust I had failed to realise one vital point. The person or thing that I saw on top of him last night. Where was he? She? It?
That question was quickly answered as my eyes snapped up. On the other side of the vehicle, on the sidewalk facing a building with its back to me stood the cause of this bloodbath. She was thin, her legs were like twigs, ripped black tights covered in scrapes, scratches and drenched in crusty dried blood. She wore a very, very short tartan skirt with a bullet belt. Her black denim jacket had a sleeve missing, a rip extended down the back of the coat, obviously ripped from it in a struggle.
Her arm was brown from the blood the night before. A bandage that had become unstuck had rolled to her wrist showing a massive gash on her triceps. What looked like a bite-mark. As I sized her up and down, all the while she did not move, totally motionless. She stood as a human statue in the streets.
Her hair was short and slicked back with sweat and rain. She was terrifying, a killer no more than 20 feet from me. She was in a stage of standing, like all those people when this whole thing had begun. I began to slowly crouch and plotted my route back to the flat, as I did so my knee must have knocked the corpse in front of my, causing it to slouch and fall from the car.
The clatter of his wallet chain and body hitting the road was louder than expected. Maybe because everything was so quiet it seemed louder but it felt like a plane had crashed in front of me. My heart pounded and what felt like a shot of adrenalin slammed into my chest. My eyes again raised and searched for the girl across the road. I raised my head above to look through the car window between the blood but I could not spot her across the road.
I moved my head slightly to try again to spy her through the smears of blood on the windows, between the red there were clear marks from finger prints. I could just about make out the end of the road and the curb to the sidewalk, as I moved my eyes up farther I could see the grass and the base of the building up a bit more and there were two red and yellow eyes. Her nose was pressed against the window and her eyes were fixed on mine; a glare that glued me still; I could not look away. I was transfixed with fear. Then I blinked.
Her voice was like shattered glass carving swear-words on a chalkboard. She screamed while she continued to stare. I yelled and fell, she was fast, from the ground I saw her feet disappear. I was on my back staring at the sky. Before I could lift myself up her head appeared above mine in the blink of an eye.
She was on top of the car roof staring down at me. Then she was on me. I felt like my vision was one of those books you flick through and the cartoons on the pages move as you do. Every time I blinked my eyes she was closer. I was pinned as her knees were on my chest, her hands on my head and suddenly her teeth were in my neck. Something happened then. It was like those stories you hear of mothers flipping their cars after an accident to save the children inside.
My body was stronger than I had ever felt. I kicked back and she fell over me. Rising to my feet I pushed her back when she lunged at me again. I’d not even seen her rise to her feet but she was there, her face in mine and her mouth open. I lunged back at her pushing her to the ground with a shoulder charge worthy of the Irish rugby team. Before I had time to think my computer game mind kicked in. I raised my knee as high as my belly would let it and brought my boot down on her throat with enough force to smash an un-ripened watermelon, and that’s what it felt and looked like when I did. I stumbled back to lean on the car, had that just happened?
>
Feb 24
Now it’s interesting eh? My hands are so cold and holding a pen is a nightmare so I only write when I can, so here goes again.
As I stood with my back to the car my heart sank. In front of me, about 50 feet away stood four more of what I can only describe as zombies. You probably have a different term for them in the new world but that is the first thing I thought when I saw them. They were standing as still as statues with eyes fixed on me. It had only been minutes but it felt like weeks since I had felt the comfort and relative safety of my flat. As I turned to run again that scream bellowed out like a siren that pierces your ears. I heard footsteps behind me as I ran…they were following.
I ran back down the road to my block, holding my neck and panicking. Up the narrow stairs using the walls to keep my upright, through the door, slamming, padlocking and double chaining it closed. I stumbled into the hall. I kept all my camping gear in the closet beside the kitchen. I rummaged through my backpack to find the first aid kit I always kept. It was only opened once and that was just to get some of the metal gauze to make a custom bong while I was away. The plasters and bandages had that horrible antiseptic, hospital smell that reminded me of cut knees and elbows as a child.
I layered three or four together to be large enough to cover my neck, in the kitchen I had half a bottle of very cheap vodka, I knew that to sterilise the wound you poured alcohol on it. I had seen it in the movies so it must be true? Right? I took a large swig, and then another and when I thought I was ready, poured a few drops onto my open bite wound. Fuck it hurt. Jesus Christ it was sore! I then covered my neck with my makeshift, giant plaster. As I placed it on, the room shook.
The force of several bodies slamming into my door caused not only the door to slightly crack but the small phone table to topple over, a picture fell from the wall and the mirror I was looking into began to swing. The thuds continued. In turns, the things were slamming themselves into the door. It was a solid door, several inches thick but I could hear it splintering. I moved the couch and as much furniture as I could in front of it piling them as high as I could. The thudding continued. It was relentless.
Feb 25
As I write this they’re still at it and haven’t stopped for two days. I can’t sleep and I can’t eat, there’s nothing left. My neck is getting worse. It hurts to move, to swallow and I’m sure it’s infected. It smells like rotting cheese mixed with the smell of an off un-cooked steak left out for too long. That is not the worst of it. The electric is out.
It seems to be dark all the time. The sun is setting at 6pm now so what little sunlight I get is just what filters through the curtains.
They watch me...it started with only one. I opened the curtains the first day I got back here after my encounter with that bitch. One boy stood, blood on his face, wearing only a pair of Spiderman pyjamas.
He stood on the grass looking up at my window, his eyes burning holes into my face. For hours he stood alone staring, still, un-shaken. Then more came. The banging has not stopped; there is a large crack in the door now. It split at the hinges and there is enough room to fit fingers through, I can see them trying to reach in. When I go to the door they retract their fingers and place their eyes to the door. They watch, they all just fucking watch, like they are waiting for me to turn or go mad.
I’ve thought about killing myself but what’s the point, its gonna happen soon enough any way. Again, every time I look outside there are more. Watching…waiting…I pushed my only armchair up to the window, drew back the curtains and sat staring right back at them.
February 27
My neck is pure agony and still they try to get in. The door is only holding because of the furniture behind it; they’ll not get through but they still try. I’ve not slept in days.
February 28
They watch me and I watch right back. I can no longer feel my neck and it’s not healed at all. I can’t smell or taste any more either. My hands are weak and holding this pen is hard work. I just write these entries, and stare. stare into the eyes of that child in the Spiderman pyjamas. Sometimes I think he smiles, sometimes I think he frowns, but never does he blink. None of them blink. They don’t move. They just WAIT!
March 2
Do they want to communicate? I try to talk to them but they don’t answer. The knocking has stopped and so have my senses. I am numb, can’t feel anything. I’m no longer hungry, no longer angry. Just... alone and so scared..
March 4
Red and yellow eyes! They’re beautiful and I’m no longer alone…They’re with me… They watch over me.
This will be the last I write… I’m slipping into a dream. I fight to open my eyes and when my eyelids close I don’t see darkness, I see red and yellow eyes. Red and yellow eyes watching me, looking back at me.
March 10
Red and yellow eyes.
Red and yellow eyes.
Red and yellow eyes.
Red and yellow eyes….
Christopher Mahood
Christopher Mahood is a full time musician, husband, author, comic book collector, sci-fi and fantasy book lover, Metal and hard rock fan, and enthusiast of all things Zombie related.
When Resident Evil 2 on the Playstation was released in 1998, Chris was the young age of 12. The Game had a UK age rating of 18; Therefore Chris' parents did not allow him to play this zombie filled gore-fest! So doing as all pre-teen boys do, he totally disobeyed them, bought the game and played it in secret at his friend’s house. Since then he has been hooked on the horror genre in general. Watching (and re-watching) movies like dawn of the dead, zombie holocaust, evil dead and 28 days later, this led him onto reading comics such as the walking dead, empire of the dead and many more.
Christopher currently “Works” full time as the owner and manager of “The Panic Rooms” Drum tuition and drums in Belfast based Grunge/punk/rock band, “Plague Artists.”
When he is not making noise, he likes to spend time with his wife Sarah, Dog and two cats. He has currently finished two novels, working on a third, countless short stories, recorded 6 albums to date, completed a photographic horror art project and travelled much of Europe and continues to discover inspiration and new beauty in his home country of Ireland.
Operation: Homecoming
By William Bebb
Half the time darkness covered the earth like a thick impenetrable burial shroud. For uncounted millennium this particular phenomena was not remarkable. But over the last few centuries, as the planet spun on its axis and night fell, the periods of darkness gradually became less absolute. Pinpricks of dim light appeared where mankind lived, slowly evolved, and rapidly grew in numbers. With the passage of time (roughly a million completed rotations later) the earth typically appeared much brighter when dusk's curtain fell.
Even a few pinpricks of light shined in remote places where very few humans lived. Viewed from high above the planet, the black of night was contained nearly completely to its vast oceans.
In previous years, wherever mankind congregated in huge numbers, wherever lives began and went on for a time before eventually ending, the vast majority of land sparkled like precious diamonds arrayed upon black silk. It seemed the darkness of night was vanquished forever, and the brightness would only continue to grow with the passage of time.
Alas, this was not to be.
Only five hundred and forty eight completed rotations of the earth ago the lights began winking out. Some places raged and struggled against the darkness for weeks, others months, but inevitably night's shadowy shroud reclaimed all but a precious few sparks.
At night on some orbital trajectories, roughly eighteen months after the lights began fading away, the sole living person aboard the International Space Station paused to look down and the blackness appeared complete. And yet, if patient and observant she sometimes spotted occasional tiny dim flickers of light that suggested humans still survived. Those lights were few in number. As time passed they seemed to be snuffed out more frequentl
y as the world continued spinning.
Ultimately, the last living crew member aboard the ISS realized the planet she called home was nearly dead... or perhaps undead.
Technologically complex machinery pushed scrubbed and purified air throughout a maze-like warren of vents. Standing in front of the largest air return, inside the main compartment designated Galileo; she felt her long hair gently fluttering in the artificial breeze. With her eyes closed the air current was almost enough to feel like a real breeze. Sometimes when she tried very hard to focus it was possible for her to imagine the impossible. She was no longer marooned inside a very expensive and complex scientific chunk of metal orbiting earth at 17,437 miles per hour at an altitude of 215.3 miles.
By focusing her imagination she could almost feel grains of sand under her feet.
The beach was quiet and deserted. It was peaceful. The incoming waves lazily rolled up the sand then receded into the ocean with a soft sigh. Her heart ached to once more listen to the authentic crashing of breaking waves. Her sense of smell desired the tantalizing aroma of the ocean, tropical flowers, and perhaps even a delicious pig being roasted at a conveniently nearby luau. She yearned to hear people, friendly living people, while listening to soothing traditional Hawaiian tunes.
A faint rhythmic squealing noise became more noticeable as the artificial breeze slowed then stopped. If she knew how to open the complex air purifier and recirculation system she'd have long ago lubricated the squeaky fans, but maintenance hadn't been why she'd been invited to work aboard the ISS. The other crew members undoubtedly knew how to fix it, but they were either gone or much too undead to care about such things. Soon the squealing fan noise faded then died, as did the purifying cycle, when the excess carbon dioxide buildup had been scrubbed from the air.
All Things Zombie: Chronology of the Apocalypse Page 23