Diary of the Displaced (3 page)

I was about to walk over to it and investigate, when I heard the scream. Crazy. I have been on edge ever since I arrived in this place, and the one moment I relaxed, something caught me ill prepared.

I’ve never heard anything that made my spine tingle as much as that scream did. It was stomach wrenching, long, and turned into a gargling wail seconds later. For the second time in as many minutes I nearly fled the area, but something, call it instinct if you want, compelled me to try and help. That scream was coming from something or someone in extreme distress, and I knew what I was going to do, even though every part of me said it was stupid.

I ran. Not quite blindly, but barely able to see ten yards in the darkness. My torch in one hand, newly lit only a few minutes before, and my mace in the other.

The scene unfolded far too quickly for me. The fight was going on much closer than I had first thought. I had barely run twenty yards, and there they were. DogThing was cowering backwards, blood streaming from a wound in its side. Looming over it with clubs in their hands, were two people.

I had hoped it would be possible, and for a few brief seconds, I felt relief. There were other people here. I wasn’t totally alone. But that relief was short lived as I ran towards the scene to help them.

The stench hit my senses as I got within about ten feet and then one of them span around to face me. What I saw staring out of that hooded cloak was disgusting and terrifying beyond anything I’ve ever seen in my life.

It may have once been human, but what was left was unrecognisable enough to be unsure whether it was male or female. Most of what was visible of the creature was either rotting or falling off. It began lumbering towards me. Its face was half missing, and I could see its jawbone shining in the torchlight, hanging on by one or two putrid strips of muscle. The cloak opened a little as it reached back with its club, and underneath I could see maggots falling out of holes in its flesh and scattering across the ground.

I’ve seen a lot of living dead films, and I know a zombie when I see one, or at least what a zombie really looks like. Let’s face it, you watch the films, but it never occurs to you that you might meet one in person, let alone two.

I was surprised enough that the slow, shuffling thing nearly got to me before I reacted. It tried to hit me with the broken stick that it was carrying, an improvised club, but I took a couple of steps back, waited for it to get in range, bit back the fear, and tried my new mace, ironically made to defend against the creature I now fought a common enemy with.

I lunged at it, missed and stumbled forward, nearly dropping the torch and the mace. This stuff always looks easier in the films.

Fortunately I wasn’t the only one with little control over my faculties. The zombie was having a hard job turning around, so I had time to wind up and aim the second attempt. As I pulled back my mace for another shot, I was vaguely aware that yards away, another violent struggle was going on between DogThing and the other zombie.

Impact. Its head erupted into pieces, splattering the ground behind it. My arm jarred, and the pain shot all the way up to my shoulder. I stumbled backwards. The creature still staggered in my direction for a moment, but then collapsed sideways, tumbling to the ground with a wet thud.

Behind me, the furious growling from DogThing had stopped, and silence came once more. I span round to look, swinging my torch in front of me, realising that I still had DogThing and possibly another zombie to deal with, but DogThing was just watching me warily, and nudging the remains of the other cadaver, that it had quite literally torn to pieces.

Both zombies down, and only a demon dog to deal with. We stood there, ten feet between us, breathing heavily, watching each other.

I backed away slowly, leaving it to poke around the bodies. I needed to be away from the scene. I staggered back to where the bus was and leaned against the side.

It took me a while to stop throwing my guts up and get my breath back. I called out in frustration, into the darkness. I’m a salesman for god’s sake! But only a dog and two smashed up zombies were there to listen to me.

Realising that I was over my expedition outward time, I rushed some of the way back, and decided to leave investigating the bus for another time.

DogThing followed me back to camp, keeping its distance.

Today (Day 9) I spent the most of the day shifting some of the junk around in an attempt to build some kind of wall defence around my camp.

It occurred to me as I sat back at the camp that I was wrong about DogThing being hurt by the light. I suspect it merely frightened him.

Yes. I decided to presume that DogThing is a male. He sat just on the edge of the light of the campfire for most of the evening, watching me warily, and licking his wound. It looked at bit nasty. He’s not looking at me hungrily, so I’m trying to presume that I’m not what he has planned for dinner.

Facts I’ve learned about DogThing

DogThing likes roasted mushroom. So do I.

DogThing isn’t a living dead thing. The bits hanging off of him are just dirty bits of crusty fur. I am beginning to wonder if I have found an ally in him. I hope so. I certainly don’t want him as an enemy, and sleeping might be easier with him around. Knowing that there are zombies and things wandering around in here, doesn’t set you up for a peaceful night.

He doesn’t smell anywhere near as rank as I thought he would

He doesn’t like the campfire light.

Back to the mushrooms. They don’t taste that much different to supermarket mushrooms, and they come in bigger bits. I guess I will find out quite soon if they are edible or not, but for now it feels good to have something solid in my stomach.

I can’t believe I have been here over a week.

Day 10

I haven’t slept for hours now. It may be day 11 for all I know, but I’m sticking to a day being between each sleep (ish). Thank god for DogThing, and to hell with zombies.

I’m about to try and get a few hours sleep, but I doubt very much that it’s going to happen. If it wasn’t for DogThing, I would be dead right now. There is no doubt about that.

I was fast asleep and far too comfortable, with a belly full of mushroom and a warm fire going. I guess I nearly forgot about the dead things that I had fought earlier that day.

The noise made me start, and I sat bolt upright, fumbling around for a torch, and my weapon. That same long drawn out moan resounded nearby, and I could hear DogThing having a go at something. The unwelcome and familiar sound of zombie flesh ripping, and the grating of DogThing’s teeth was too close for my liking. He must have still been sitting nearby when they arrived.

The torch flooded the area with light, and I wished it hadn’t, because I could see at least four of them loping slowly towards the camp. Worst still, there were bits enough to account for a few others, strewn around the clearing that DogThing had been lounging around in. They don’t leave a lot of blood, just bits.

I hurriedly put my torch into the fire again, stoking it frantically to try and get more light into the area. It was almost out, and I didn’t have the time to lug any wood from the pile. I managed to get it going a bit more, and regretted it straight away, as the fire roared to life and lit up the entire area around me.

There were dozens of them, at varying distances. All shapes and sizes, and at different stages of decay. The nearest to me was at least twenty feet away, and it seemed to be stuck in the junk. Most were still staggering around trying to negotiate the piles of scrap. I am so glad that they are slow, or I would have been overrun before I’d even noticed that they were coming.

I hesitated for a moment. Would I be able to fight them all off? DogThing was doing an awesome job, but me? Not a chance. My trip out earlier proved to me that I was useless with this mace. Yeah, sure, I killed it, but not after nearly landing myself on my backside on my first swing.

Time to run.

Time to get the hell out of here as fast as I can.

My kit was still packed from the expedition, so I grabbed it, and as much other stuff as I could carry, and made my way along the wall away from the camp, in the only direction that was reasonably clear. As I shuffled along through the rubbish, I saw that there was only one of the creatures in that direction. I figured that if I moved quickly, I may not even have to fight it.

So here I am, tucked inside the bus with the doors all jammed shut, and DogThing prowling around outside. I was exhausted.

DogThing followed me, after sidetracking to make a meal out of one or two of the zombies along the way. I think I now know why I’ve not become a DogThing meal. He seems to have a taste for the living dead. Sick, yeah, but I’d rather it was them and not me.

The zombies didn’t follow me. They seemed intent on continuing into the camp. I don’t know where they are heading, or what has attracted them to the area, but I’m just glad it isn't me. Well, I think it isn't me. They didn’t follow me to the bus, so they must have had some other reason to be there. What that was I don’t know, and I don’t think that I want to find out.

Need to sleep now. Struggling to write.

Day 11

I’m still alive, still inside the bus, and still got me a demon DogThing patrolling around on the edge of the torchlight. Can you feel love for a mutt from hell? Damn right you can. He won’t come into the bus, and seems to be afraid of it for some reason. Maybe I should take heed from that, but I’m too tired.

I’m glad I made a large supply of torches now.

Anyway, back to my escape.

My exodus wasn’t entirely uneventful. That one zombie that I was hoping to avoid moved quicker than   expected. As I edged away along the wall, it closed the gap. I looked back, but DogThing was busy tearing into another of the monsters that had entered his clearing. I whistled, but he didn’t respond. I would have called him, but I didn’t think he would answer to “DogThing” and I didn’t have a name for him yet. I must give him a name, he deserves that at least.

The wall was quite low by the time I faced off against the zombie.  I approached slowly, pointing my mace and my torch at it. The reek of the creature was nasty, hitting me like a cloud of gas at about ten feet. It was a massive one, not tall or anything, but fat, monstrously fat, and it had something sticking out of its stomach, piercing right through its body. It looked like it was a metal girder or something similar. Its innards were wrapped around the metal and dangling out all over the place, dragging along the floor as it stumbled about. A totally random thought entered my head, and I laughed. How odd. Here I am, faced with a hoard of the living dead, and I’m laughing as I remember being told by my mum to tie my shoelaces, or I would trip on them. Did this creature ever have a problem tripping on its own guts?

For its weapon, this zombie had chosen a head. Yeah, a zombie head. It had hold of it by the hair, which was long, and drenched through with dried blood and other crap. As it swung it in my direction, the head cursed and swore at me. I think that’s what freaked me out more than the obese size of the creature, that swinging, screaming head that it was trying to hit me with.

I didn’t think I had much luck by ending up in this place, but luck has had a lot to do with my survival after that moment, and it played a huge role right then. I was about to step forward and try to take the thing on. Even though I was convinced that I stood no chance, but then I noticed what it was standing on. Cardboard! Another immense pile of it, spread out across the floor, and this time not drenched in muck and water. One jab of my torch and it took like a treat, and the giant zombie went up with it. I had to jump back a few steps to avoid getting toasted myself.

I’ve never been a hateful person, but the sheer joy at watching that creature roast was immense. So much so that I wasn’t expecting the damn thing to come walking off of the cardboard towards me, burning like a failed Catherine Wheel as it flailed that screaming head and its other arm around in its fury. I had no choice. I dived over the wall, hit the ground hard, and then frantically crawled away. Not a moment too soon either, because barely a second or two after I tumbled away from the wall, the burning zombie came crashing down over the rock, in an inferno, and fell to pieces on the cobbled floor. The head, still on fire, rolled over towards me and came to stop a few inches from my feet.

It screamed.

Up until then I had been avoiding going over that wall. I dreaded the thought that when I got there it would be as vast and endless as the side I was living on, and there was something reassuring about sleeping with your back to solid wall. I was right to be wary.

Broken ground stretched out into the darkness, and there was no sign of an ending to the open space this side of the wall. I didn’t have time to look around, and I wasn’t going to go stumbling into somewhere else unknown if I could help it, so I hurried off in the only direction that I could remember. Towards the bus, leaving the zombie collapsed in flames with the putrid stench of rotten, burning flesh hanging in the air and tearing at my nostrils. The head screamed even worse insults at me as I scurried away. How typical is that? The first time I hear another human voice, and it’s not   attached to a body. It couldn’t even have had vocal cords.

This place is nuts.

It would seem that my memory isn’t completely gone! I’m starting to get some little bits back about the day I ended up here. I think I would have remembered more, but the dream that brought it to me ended rather abruptly when the zombies arrived at the camp.

I was on my way to a major client, to talk to them about their latest order, when I hit a traffic jam. The M25 can get quite frustrating during rush hour, but it wasn’t normally so congested mid afternoon, so that was unusual. Still that didn’t suggest anything weird to me.

It took about an hour extra to get there, so I had phoned ahead to let them know I was going to be late. That was when I noticed my phone was getting low on charge.  I couldn’t find the car adapter for recharging it, and I remember making a mental note to do so later on, but I guess that the opportunity never came.