Tag Archives: Snot

7th November

I’ve been on the trail for a couple of weeks now. Following the iron road through towns and cities. The carnage to either side of the track shows me which way they went whenever we come to a junction. They’re not exactly sneaking through the country. There’s nothing discrete or stealthy about a diesel train, half a dozen carriages and a bunch of complete crackpots armed to the teeth and rampaging up and down the country. But that’s jumping ahead. Don’t want to give too much away too soon.

So the hairy hillbilly, I heard his name was Kyle, drags me along behind him down the length of the carriage. This is when I notice there are others in the carriage too. A couple of small children cower in each other’s arms, curled up on one seat. A, what once was blonde haired, woman, looking thin and bedraggled, her huge, bulging eyes pleading, and at the same time I see pity. What could she possibly have pity for me for? At least I had a meal, of sorts, in the last day or two. Or had I? You know, I don’t have a clue to this day how long I had been unconscious. Either of the times.

Anyway, my odorous pal Kyle drags me to the door which connects the carriage to the next one. We’re heading forward, in the direction the train is moving. I can feel the movement of the train now and can see by the speed that the trees are sliding past the windows at we are moving very slowly. Not much more than walking pace.

Kyle swings the door open and steps forward and opens the next door. He pulls me through and I feel an urge to close the doors behind me. Well, it’s only the polite thing to do. But in a fit of rebellion I leave them open to swing in the motion of the wallowing train. The one behind me slams shut and as I look over my bloodied shoulder I see through the window in the door that the other one still swings back and forth. As pathetic as this seems, it gives me the merest sliver of satisfaction. After all, I don’t particularly like the hospitality that I’ve received to date and any slight on my hosts, however minor, seems like a victory to me.

I must have slowed as Kyle gave a hard yank on my shirt scruff and I stumbled forward through the next carriage. I braced myself with my tied hands on a seat and leant forward. I came face to face with the terrified face of a girl around sixteen years old. Her face was bruised and beaten. Her hair in ragged disarray and it looked as if she, or somebody else, had torn out great clumps of it. What little clothing she had on was torn and filthy. The terror on her face was evident, and her mouth opened in a silent moan of horror. Snot ran down her lips and left trails in the grime.

“Sorry.” I uttered as I straightened up. I resumed my stumbling along behind the man-mountain. Around me I didn’t see too many of the inhabitants as they were mostly lying down on the bench seats and hidden from view behind the seatbacks, but I heard whimpers, moans and a lot of crying from the dark recesses of the carriage. Many of the overhead fluorescents were out or flickering off and on annoyingly in this carriage, and added to the sense of hopelessness. I could taste the fear and over the smell of urine and sweat was the stench of defeat.

We cleared the next set of doors, but I managed to hang on to the handle of the first door, making sure it closed behind me. I don’t know why I did this. Was it to close those poor wretches off from whatever it was that so terrified them, or was it to close them off from me? So I didn’t feel their terror washing over me in waves. So I couldn’t sense their hopelessness seeping into my pores. So I didn’t break down and sob the way I felt I needed to. Then I looked up, and felt the need to steel my nerves.

This next carriage was host to the roughest, meanest, nastiest pieces of human filth I had witnessed. Not even the street gangs of the old world, nor anything the movies could throw at you could match a tenth of the grim reality before me. This carriage had only about ten people in it, but they were each the size of Kyle, easily. Mostly men, but there were at least two, what could loosely be termed, woman. It was something like what I once saw on that movie, what was it, Mad Max? They wore black. Any shade of black you could find. Where the clothes ended and the skin began was a mystery as the dirt and dried blood of victims stained them black as well. Some sported dark sun glasses. Most wore leather or denim. One had a filthy red bandanna tied on his head, and out the back sprouted a mass of writhing dreadlocks.

Some went quiet when I was dragged into the room, but most carried on with their cursing and raucous, almost forced, laughter at some vile comment another had made. This was where I picked up Kyle’s name as they shouted at him to let them ‘play with’ me. One spat at the back of my leg as I stumbled through. I was nearly clear of them when one guy stuck his leg out and I tripped over it. I glanced over my shoulder and saw he was immediately on his feet, a knife the size of a small sword in his hands and bearing towards my throat.

“Leave ’em Jack.” Kyle my saviour and gracious host said. “We’re off to see the Boss first, then you can acquaint yourselves.” There it was again: “Baaaawss”

Jack sat back down with a sneer on his face and a wicked twinkle in his eye. I didn’t like that look much. It said “We’re not finished here.” I didn’t like Jack very much. For some reason I don’t think he liked me from the moment I first tripped over him either. With any luck he’ll be the first with my blade in his ribs before this is all over. But I digress.

Surviving the gauntlet was a relief. It was the next carriage that was to bring the biggest surprise of them all. That was where Kyle dragged me in to face the Boss.

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Posted by on 7 November in Uncategorized


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20th May

We’ve been camping out in this shed for a few days now. This damn rain keeps on coming – and here I was thinking this was supposed to be Spring!

Patrolling around I’ve found that this entire place is walled off, and with that huge gate out front we’re pretty secure.

I’ve cased out the building and it’s buttoned down good and tight. No way in unless those inside want to let you in. I’ve been hammering on that door, and the metal barriers over the windows, off and on for ages but no answer.

Basically the building is a single-storey, modern-looking thing. I’ve never seen anything like these metal roller doors covering the windows, except at high-end jewellery stores and the likes. It’s damn Fort Knox.

So Adam and I just hang out. We’ve grabbed a couple of simple books along the way on our adventures for him to have a go at and read them most nights before sleep. We’re running low on food again, so I might take a run to see if I can find a store or something, but from memory they’re miles away. This is a safe spot to leave Adam if I go on my own, but what will happen to Adam if I can’t make it back?

I’m starting to doubt I actually saw a person, but I’m positive I did. Why won’t the fecker answer our knocking? Surely he/she doesn’t think that the snotties know how to knock on a door and shout.

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Posted by on 20 May in Zombie Philes


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20th April

They say a man can last about 3 days without water and up to a week without food. Well here in the summer-less North we’re not short of fresh water. There are streams, rivers, lakes, ponds, lochs and puddles everywhere. It’s the food that’s the problem.
There used to be a joke about how the haggis is an animal that lives in the hills of Scotland. If that were the case, I could do with coming across a paddock of them right about now.

I’m pretty much just skin and bones now, and Adam isn’t far off that himself. I make sure he gets as much food as I can, giving him most of my share when he’ll let me get away with it. I don’t know if I’m doing him a favour or a disservice. If I were to waste away and be too weak to fight off an attack he wouldn’t survive much longer than I would, but on the other hand the poor kid is growing and his body needs all the sustenance it can get otherwise he’ll end up some puny midget of a man in later life.

Our target each day is to try and walk about 20 miles – about two finger widths on this old map of the country I carry around. While we walk, we’re constantly scanning ahead and behind for slovs, and seeing if we can spy anything that might lend itself to eating. An apple tree, a house that doesn’t look like it has been too badly raided, hell, an old dog or oh yeah, a wild horse would be a feast for a week or more!

Just yesterday I was daydreaming about burgers. I was about to describe them to Adam who has never seen one in his life when this grey, emaciated hand shot out from a storm drain I was walking past and made a grab at my leg. At first I thought it was a slov that had been in there hunting rats and I was about to lop off its limb with my handy dandy machete I found in a green grocer’s until it spoke.

“Food?” it croaked. “Got any food?” Of course I had some food, but I wasn’t about to tell her, him, it anything. When it came out into the light I saw it was a wizened up old lady. How she had survived this long I wouldn’t know (she would probably tell me it was from not smoking, regular exercise and that a rat a day keeps the doctor away).

Adam was pretty intrigued that we’d found another Living that we could talk to, but he stood warily on watch while I dealt with the situation.

Seems she had been living in the storm drain most of the last few years – that is except for when there were big rains and her home was busy being a – well, storm drain. She mostly ate, much as I had already guessed, rats. But also various mosses and plants she had found to be edible. We couldn’t spare any of our food but I left her with a handful of mixed nuts that were in the cupboard of a house a few days walk back, and went on our way. She begged to come with us, but all three of us knew she would be a burden on us. She would slow us down, couldn’t fight even as well as Adam the five year old could, and would need just as much food, though this last part she argued against.

In the end we left her to her drain, promising to stop in on our way back in a few months. I marked this spot on our map too, and after finding out she knew nothing about a research facility, we headed onwards.

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Posted by on 20 April in Zombie Philes


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13 Apr

Can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!

See, this holocaust, that’s what I’m calling it anyway, can’t last forever can it? So the snotty Slovs are dying of hunger, and that means that the un-sick, those that are still OK like me, will come out of hiding again and clean up the mess and carry on like we were before. Well, almost like before. There’ll be a shed load less of us to get on with things. Hey, perhaps that means repopulating the planet.

Oh, my wife.

Anyway, that idea I had: well, when things are back to normal again, it’ll end up like it was before with the haves and have-nothings. The fat cats at the top screwing the little guy like me again. OK, so how does one make sure they keep up with the rich and famous? Now cash will be out, and a whole new finance system will need to be set up again. Initially food and clean water will be the key assets to have, but eventually luxury goods will start making a comeback, and when they do, I should be the main supplier.

So I stopped over in a small township in the middle of nowhere and found what I was after. There were a couple of emaciated Slovs lurching about the street, but they were too lethargic to bother me so I didn’t bother them. I backed my truck right up to the window and through it. I spent the next half hour loading up the back tray of the truck with all the gold and sparkly stones I could lay my hands on from the jewellers. I suppose looting was still a shooting offence, but those cowardly military have all scurried down some rabbit hole someplace and I haven’t seen them since. I intend loading up the truck and finding a hiding place for it all. When the world sorts this mess out again, I’ll be at the centre of the jewellery trade and able to make a load of money.

It’s only been 14 or 15 weeks since this all kicked off now. How long would it take to get things back on track again before my ill gotten gains started making me a wealthy man?


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Posted by on 13 April in Zombie Philes


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26 Feb

Went in to see her this morning. She was barely able to stay awake and lucid for more than a few minutes at a time. Her nose is streaming green gunk and she’s sweating so much the sheets were soaked.

I managed to force a few paracetamols down her to try and break the fever. I put plastic shopping bags on my hands and a tea towel around my face to keep the germs out. She’s not looking too good. Tried to fill the bath to cool her down, but just got a few inches of sludge out of the taps. Definitely writing a stern letter to the council about that one.

Oh man, why did she have to get sick? Why my baby? All the other losers in the country can go to hell for all I care, as long as I have my beautiful wifey, it doesn’t matter. Oh God, oh God, oh God…

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Posted by on 26 February in Zombie Philes


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13 Feb

Popped out to find more grub today.

Half the army guys had left and a bunch of new ones had arrived. Thankfully those that were there from the first batch remembered me and I wasn’t shot on the spot. They said that the supply depot down the road had been closed down after it was raided by a bunch of Slovs, what they call people with the Slovak Virus. The Slovs ate most of the food, and even started chewing on a few unfortunate soldiers.

Turns out they’re harder to kill than the average person because their brain has shut down most of the non-essential bits of their bodies. You need to hit them in the heart or head to stop them. While I was there a sick woman, barely any clothes covering her, and mud all up one side, blood and snot crusting her face, started lurching towards the checkpoint. The guys opened fire and she went down. A couple of minutes later she started moving again and got back up again! One of the guys is a bit of a crack shot and lined it up carefully this time. The top of her head came off in a spray of brains and she stayed down that time. They just left her there. I nearly puked on my shoes.

Anyway, they said there was likely to be an evacuation order any day now to get those that weren’t sick out to some place safe. We’d hear them on a loud speaker so didn’t need to worry about missing the evac. They gave me what food they could spare and I high tailed it back home again.

What a day.

Zombie Woman

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Posted by on 13 February in Zombie Philes


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5 Feb

Went out to the checkpoint at the end of the street. Guys there got a bit anxious at first, but luckily one of them recognised me as the guy popping out for supplies all the time. We needed a few things but I decided to stay and chat to them for a while and it was getting near curfew by the time I was finished so came home again empty handed.

Turns out those military guys aren’t so bad after all. They’ve been given shoot-on-sight orders now. Anybody that looks like they’re sick and likely to infect them can be, what they called, neutralised. Killed is what I call it.

They’re all super jumpy, and are being given bugger-all information. They have to remain there until given orders to leave. Most of them are younger bucks in their 20’s, and look completely out of place in military outfits. Just a bunch of kids with guns really. I asked about the cure, and none of them knew anything about it. One said that he’d shot a guy who was obviously sick. Said he’d been lurching along, snot pouring out of his nose and foaming at the mouth. Said he’d shot him six times before the guy stayed down. He was pretty shook up about it too. Said he didn’t think when he signed up that he’d end up killing anybody.

I made sure they all got to know my face and name before I left. Don’t want any itchy trigger fingers when next I go out for a kebab (as if I’m likely to see one of those again this side of Christmas).

zombie face

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Posted by on 5 February in Zombie Philes


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