Blog of the Dead (Book 1): Sophie (6 page)

8.05pm Day 19
Leanne slept in Richard’s old room last night – what she doesn’t know … and the smell has practically gone now anyway. She’s very quiet – well, she would be, I mean, her boyfriend got eaten by zombies yesterday. That’d put anyone on a downer. She spent most of the day shut up in Richard’s room. I took her up some food, but she didn’t touch it. Polly had been in Richard’s room with her just before I got there – that would put anyone off their food. I offered to help clean up the wounds on her hands, but she just shook her head. Whatever.

It’s hard to know what to do about Leanne. None of us know her. And we didn’t know Simon. I’m going to give her some space, I think. Let her grieve.

I get the feeling Leanne was quiet before all this happened. She’s sort of broken, a broken down doll, like she’s been beaten down by life already. She can only be about twenty. She’s so small and fragile, like she’s afraid to take up too much space in case someone else wants it.

December 3
11.40am Day 20
The food supply is running low. We’ve another mouth to feed now, as well. Though Leanne doesn’t eat much. But, basically, we’re fucked. I mean, where are we supposed to get food from?

Leanne is still holed up in her/Richard’s room. Polly’s been going in and out of there all morning. I don’t know why. Any time I go in, Leanne just sits on the bed like a … shit, I was going to say zombie, but you know what I mean.

4.15pm Day 20
I have had a brainwave! We need food. There’s food in Asda. We can’t get into Asda because of the really big guys with bludgeoning weapons. Without food, we will die. If we go anywhere near the really big guys with bludgeoning weapons we will die. BUT if the really big guys with bludgeoning weapons weren’t there any more, we could get into Asda and get some food. And live! It really is rather simple, if you think about it. Sam and Polly disagreed with me and said that removing the really big guys from Asda would not be simple at all.

‘But I haven’t got to the best bit,’ I said. We sat around the dinning table, drinking tea that Polly had made. ‘There must be more survivors banged up in their houses, needing food but too terrified or unable, for what ever reason, to go out. Or, if they have tried to go out and get food, at a loss as to where to get any, what with the town being all trashed and looted and held hostage.’

‘Yeah. Your point is?’ asked Polly, her eyes flicking to the stairs, like she wanted to be somewhere else. She played with the edge of the fresh bandage on her arm from where she cut herself the first day we went to Sai’s shop.

‘
My point is
,’ I said, ‘we could round up a gang – and I know it’d have to be a big gang – of survivors to come to help us get rid of those guys in Asda.’

‘Are you serious?’ asked Polly. ‘Because if you are, you’re a fucking idiot to –’

‘No. Hang on,’ said Sam. ‘I think Sophie’s on to something. So, what’re you thinking – door to door?’

‘You’re as mental as she is, Sam.’

‘I think it could work,’ I said.

‘Me too,’ said Sam, smiling at me.

‘Yeah, cos it’s in everyone’s interest to help get rid of those guys so that we can all eat and carry on surviving. And if we get enough people signed up, I think it could be done,’ I said.

‘Yeah,’ said Sam.

‘Mental! You’ll never get anyone to agree. They’ll be too scared of the zombies to leave their homes, and if you figure in the nutters with iron bars ...’ said Polly.

‘They’ll have no choice,’ I said.

‘And, saying if anyone does agree, how are you going to organise it?’ said Polly.

‘We could tell everyone up for it to meet us in town at a certain time on a certain day,’ said Sam.

‘Yeah. Bring your own weapons,’ I said.

‘As I said – mental.’ Polly stood up, her chair squeaking on the floorboards as she shoved it back with the backs of her legs, and headed upstairs.

‘It’ll work,’ I said.

‘I know it will,’ said Sam.

December 4
11.15am Day 21
So, we’re off to search the streets of Folkestone for survivors to help take on the big guys in Asda. Last night I had a word with Leanne about my plan. She perked up a bit and agreed to help. I think the idea of getting back at the shits that hit Simon really appealed to her. Once Leanne was on board, Polly did a turn around too. Seems Polly likes Leanne, and, strangely, Leanne likes Polly. Which is weird because people don’t usually like Polly – unless Polly tells them to, and that doesn’t always work. I guess Leanne needs someone to like, while Polly needs to be liked, or something like that.

Anyway, gotta go …

December 5
11.05am Day 22
We turned right and knocked at the doors of the houses down our street, leaving out Mrs Barton’s place (she’s too old for conscription). No one answered. We shoved flyers through some of the letterboxes. Sam’s idea. He printed out flyers with our details, a brief explanation of what we’re doing and why, time and place to meet up (we decided on Wednesday at 5pm in Rendezvous Street – appropriately enough – giving us a few days to organise, but it’s still soon enough so that the survivors aren’t too weak from starvation. We figured that we could use the dark to our advantage to sneak up on the big guys and catch them off guard), BYOW (bring your own weapons), and he included details of a Facebook page he’s set up with more information on it. We’re hoping that, if people are too scared to open their doors to us, at least they will have our flyer and can make up their minds.

Round the corner in Wear Bay Crescent, we still had no joy. I didn’t think for a minute that no one but us had survived the outbreak, but despite calling through letter boxes and asking very politely if people would open up to talk to us about the food situation, no one came to their doors. Me and Sam did the knocking, while Polly and Leanne acted as look outs. The desolate streets remained quiet. Only a Lexus and a Nissan crashed nose to nose in the middle of the road, both cars with their bloodstained doors open, suggested that anything had happened here. A trail of blood led from the Lexus, dark and dried.

As we came out of Wear Bay Crescent and into Wear Bay Road, we ran into a group of zombies. Some staggered about on the grass on the other side of the road, one still holding a dog lead, nothing on the end of it. They lumbered across to us, while more staggered up the road towards us from the direction of the harbour. Not for the first time since this nightmare began, I wished this was America and I had a couple of guns in my hand instead of a claw hammer and a kitchen knife. We all bristled, heckles up like cats ready for a showdown, and raised our crappy weapons. I could see that Leanne, who carried a nine inch kitchen knife in each hand from the stock we got at Wilkos, shook big time. I worried that she wasn’t going to be able to cope.

The zombies closed in on us, about eleven of them. I didn’t wait. I screamed and launched myself at one out front. It lurched forwards, waving its ravaged arms at me, but I slammed my claw hammer in its face. Thick black blood spurted in slow motion from the wound that opened up on its head, its head being forced to the side by the impact. One down. I took out another with my knife, stabbing the tall zombie through a bulging and bloodshot eye. Nicely done. Sam stood beside me in the front line and we slaughtered zombies together. One got by me but I knew Polly could take it out. I glanced behind me to see Polly use her makeshift spear to kill the zombie. She stood in front of a garden gate. Leanne loitered limply on the other side of the gate, standing on the path that led to the house. Her weapons hung loosely in her hands and she stared at the zombies with wide, frightened eyes. I was right – she’s useless in a fight. I turned my attention back to the zombies in front of me and brained another ... and another. Only three remaining, but a couple more staggered down towards us from my left. Me and Sam finished the three before us. Polly got one of the new comers without leaving her post guarding Leanne, while me and Sam both went for the last one with our claw hammers at the same time. The zombie crumpled to the ground, black goo oozing from its head onto the pavement.

‘Good work team,’ said Sam.

‘Well, from some of us,’ I said. I tried not to sound resentful. We couldn’t all be fighters.

I saw Polly turn and check to see if Leanne was all right …
Hello
? Of course she was all right, she didn’t fight. She hid in a garden! Stop it now, Sophie. Remember we can’t all be fighters. But, the point is, I guess, if we’re having to watch her back, who’s going to be watching ours?

The front door behind Leanne opened up a crack and I could just make out an eye peering at us from behind the green painted wood. ‘Hello,’ I said, putting my bloodstained weapons in the waistband of my jeans and pushing past Polly and Leanne on the garden path. The door started to close. ‘No! Please don’t shut the door. Please can we talk to you?’ The door stopped. ‘Please, we’re survivors like you and we need your help.’

The door started to close again but Sam shoved me aside and rammed his foot in the gap before it could close all the way. ‘Sorry, mate,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to scare you but me and these lovely ladies need to talk to you. We’re here to help, if you can help us. You see, we need to round up some survivors, right? Join forces. That’s the only way we can all carry on surviving now, right?’ Sam spoke fast. ‘How many of you are in there?’

‘Me-me, my wife and our two sons,’ came an uncertain voice and the door opened up a little more but not enough for me to see inside.

‘Good. Excellent. How old are your sons, mate?’ asked Sam.

‘Fif-fifteen and seventeen.’

‘Ok, look, you don’t have to let us in, right? I understand that you’re pretty freaked out by all this and don’t really want a bunch of strangers in your house. But,’ Sam held a flyer out towards the gap in the door, ‘take one of these, mate.’ A hand came out and took the flyer. ‘Check us out on Facebook, ok? Situation is, there’re some guys who’ve taken over the food stock in Folkestone. We want to reclaim it for everyone, right? If we can get enough of us together by Wednesday evening, we think we can do it. If we work together we can maybe get this town up and running and, hopefully, safer for all of us.’

The door opened up a little more and I could see a man, about my dad’s age, maybe a little younger. He looked tired and he had the shrunken appearance of someone who had lost weight in a short space of time.

‘We’re so hungry,’ he said. ‘Can you get us food? Do you have any food?’

‘If you want food, you’re going to have to fight for it,’ I said. ‘With us. Then we can all have food. Fuck, we can even have a party.’ Sam nudged me in the ribs. ‘Sorry. Please, round up everyone you know, bring anything that can be used as a weapon and meet us on Wednesday at five in town.’

The man shut the door.

‘Do you think he’ll come?’ asked Sam.

‘The fucker had better,’ said Polly.

‘I hope so,’ I said.

Leanne just looked at her feet.

We had a little more success after that. A few people opened their doors. All of them starving hungry, and some said that they would join the fight. Some just slammed doors in our faces. At one house we found a group of young guys who wanted to get tooled up and head to Asda right there and then. I cooled them down a bit and made them promise not to do anything until Wednesday evening.

We still have today and tomorrow and some of Wednesday to round up more people ... and pray for a miracle.

6.50pm Day 22
After a hard days work knocking door to door, killing zombies and running away from boiling water raining down at me from upstairs windows (yes, really. That’s what some old git did when we knocked at his house. It’s only because Sam pushed me out the way that I didn’t end up with a kettle’s worth all over my face. Sam was ok, too. He could have just said, ‘go away’), I really fancied a nice cup of tea, even though there’s no milk to go in it. But it appears that Polly only makes tea for Leanne now. They drink it in Leanne’s room, just the two of them.

I made my own tea in the end. I can make it. I just miss having Polly do it for me. It feels like she has revoked some kind of privilege, like we are no longer worthy of the small vestiges of compassion and support that reside in her shrivelled heart.

December 6
9.05am Day 23
Thank God. There’s been some interest on Facebook about the planned raid tomorrow. We’ve about thirty people signed up on Facebook and another twenty we’ve met going door to door. I know it doesn’t guarantee that they will turn up. Some, I guess, will think,
I’ll leave it to them and come and get some food if they win
.

9pm Day 23
I’m still having palpitations. I almost got bit today while out knocking door to door. A zombie lunged at me from behind a hedge in the Durlocks, by St Andrews. It grabbed the arm of the hand that held the claw hammer, and I dropped it on my bloody foot. That made my eyes water, but I had more pressing things on my mind, mainly the manky zombie that very nearly had its teeth in my shoulder. It stank of rancid meat, and its hand felt scabby but gooey at the same time. Too terrified even to scream I somehow managed to get my knife in its ear before it clamped down with its rotten teeth.

As the zombie dropped to the pavement, I could see Sam in front of me. He looked like some weird marble statue with his mouth open, face white and knife raised in mid air, its trajectory heading for the zombie’s head before it fell. He didn’t leave my side after that.

More people have signed up on Facebook. The two sons of the guy we met in Wear Bay Road on Sunday contacted us through Facebook and are going to help knock door to door tomorrow morning. Archie is fifteen and Michael, seventeen. Their dad, Peter, has a serious heart condition, so can’t come with us to take on the big guys. He volunteered but I vetoed him. I don’t need his heart attack on my conscience. But I promised to look after his boys.

On another note, Polly and Leanne are spending a lot of time together – alone. Polly slept in Leanne’s room last night, and she shifted some of her belongings in there today. So I guess she’s moved in there. I don’t know if something is going on with those two. I didn’t think Polly was into girls. I thought she had a boyfriend back in Cambridge. It’s none of my business, I guess. Each to their own.