Back in the day there was talk of a camp over in France that had survived. I’ve read back in this diary and seen I wrote about it some time back. From time to time I find a power source – usually a store with batteries, or a generator I can get going without too much need of mechanical assistance.
When this happens, the first thing I do is get a radio going and scan around the airwaves for anything other than the hiss of static. One time I found a ham radio which once belonged to some enthusiast and after much faffing about and far more time spent in one place than Adam or I were comfortable with, got the thing going. I tried talking on it and spun around to random places on the dial and tried some more. Nothing. I even thought about leaving it running with a recorded message looping over and over, but we’d already spent too long there getting the thing going in the first place. Besides, I don’t know what I’d have to say over and over again that would be of much interest to anybody out there listening.
What was I saying? Oh yeah, so the long and short of all this is that there hasn’t been any evidence that the Frogs made it either. They’re probably still out there for all I know, but they’re an entire English Channel away, and besides, Adam and I don’t speak French. Oui?
Oh, and another rumour that was going around before our camp was wiped out was that there was some kind of research lab up North. So every summer Adam and I make a pilgrimage up this way to search around for it. If it wasn’t for this hunt I’d much prefer to remain down South where the summer is a bit warmer, and not so wet. But the up side is that there are far less zombies around due to the lower initial population.
So we break camp each morning, pack our meagre belongings into knapsacks and follow the roads Northwards. We stay off the road itself, preferring to remain in the trees (if there are any) or behind hedges and things, anything really as we feel too exposed out on those roads. We keep the road within eyesight and just trudge along – mainly through empty farmland and knee-high grass. The slovs have long-since eaten any cattle and livestock from the farms.
We had a bit of a coup the other day when we came across some long white poly-tunnels. They were hothouses, but not being see-through to let in sunlight I was a bit baffled what they could be used for. That was until I opened one and found it to be a mushroom farm. The mushrooms had been growing wild and self seeding (or is it spooring?) ever since. So we had a good feed of those, taking as many as we could carry, and I marked it on my raggedy map to come back to on our way back down for the Southward winter migration.