Blog of the Dead (Book 3): Lost by Lisa Richardson
Authors: Lisa Richardson
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
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another year of survival in a shitty post-apocalyptic world. Woohoo – bring it on!
January
January 1, 10pm
‘Happy New Year.’ Misfit whispered the words close to my ear as I poured flat, out of date supermarket brand cola into a glass in the kitchen.
‘Is it… happy, I mean?’ I said, turning my head so that our noses would have touched if he wasn’t slightly taller than me.
‘It could be.’
‘Has anyone ever said you’re overly optimistic?’ I turned so my whole body faced his, my right palm resting against the oak block work top.
‘Not a bad trait, is it?’
‘No, it isn’t, especially these days. It’s a sign you’re completely mental though.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Misfit, moving into me as he spoke so my left side was forced round and back, until my lower back pushed up against the work top. ‘I think it’s a sign that I can see the beauty in all situations.’
‘Guys, we’re ready to go.’ I glanced over Misfit’s shoulder to see Clay standing in the doorway. Misfit kept his eyes on me and I could feel my cheeks getting hot.
‘Just a sec,’ I said.
Clay didn’t move. ‘I think we should get going. Sooner we lose this loony the better.
I rolled my eyes. I mean, why couldn’t Clay ever give me and Misfit a break? ‘ Coming ,’ I growled and I eased myself past Misfit, my thirst for flat, stale cola forgotten.
We made the short drive to Ashford town centre. Four of us had to squish in the back because Elaine didn’t trust us enough to leave us alone in the car while she rode her Zombie Response Team Mobile, like she thought we’d scarper (as if…). Before we set off and before anyone had chance to get in the car, Clay was like, ‘I’ll sit up front with Misfit and the rest of you with the smallest butts can fit in the back.’ Only, his arse is even skinnier than mine.
I felt pushed out but I didn’t argue, especially when Kay said, ‘I’m not squeezing in the back with all you lot. I’ll drive.’ Clay looked pissed off at that and tried to argue that Kay wasn’t well enough, but she shot him down and I suppressed a smirk. And I smirked for the whole thirteen minute journey with my body pressed up against Misfit’s in the back seat. The route from Bethersden to Ashford was mostly clear. Towards the town centre, the roads leading out were gridlocked but the side leading in was mostly free of abandoned cars, apart from the occasional burnt out wreck or crashed vehicle that Kay avoided by swerving onto the pavement.
At Elaine’s request, Kay stopped the car at the side of a main road, beside a nondescript brick-built gym, and we all climbed out. I held my knife in my left hand and my claw hammer sat nestled against my side, wedged in my belt. Kay clutched her trusty axe, Clay had his spiked boxing gloves hung around his neck and Elaine carried a carving knife similar to mine in length. And, of course, the clip-clop sound on the paving stones reminded me she had her spiked heels should she fancy pole dancing for hungry zombie punters. Not really that dissimilar to her human punters, I guessed; they all wanted the same thing: a piece of her flesh. I could make a joke about the zombies wanting her for her brains, but I won’t.
We crossed the road, following Elaine, and ducked into a smaller street off the main road, between a white building with The Lounge painted on its side with gold paint, and a brick and glass fronted building with white functional letters informing that it is the NHS’s Specialist Orthodontic Practice .
I’d not been to Ashford town centre before, pre or post zombie apocalypse so I had no idea where we were heading as we trotted down the narrow street, passing small fronted shops: a music shop, a dental practice, a sewing shop, a tiny Argos, various charity shops. I had expected the high street to be bigger, like Canterbury. I wondered how it could have been big enough for its pre-apocalypse population.
Outside Caffé Nero,
January
January 1, 10pm
‘Happy New Year.’ Misfit whispered the words close to my ear as I poured flat, out of date supermarket brand cola into a glass in the kitchen.
‘Is it… happy, I mean?’ I said, turning my head so that our noses would have touched if he wasn’t slightly taller than me.
‘It could be.’
‘Has anyone ever said you’re overly optimistic?’ I turned so my whole body faced his, my right palm resting against the oak block work top.
‘Not a bad trait, is it?’
‘No, it isn’t, especially these days. It’s a sign you’re completely mental though.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Misfit, moving into me as he spoke so my left side was forced round and back, until my lower back pushed up against the work top. ‘I think it’s a sign that I can see the beauty in all situations.’
‘Guys, we’re ready to go.’ I glanced over Misfit’s shoulder to see Clay standing in the doorway. Misfit kept his eyes on me and I could feel my cheeks getting hot.
‘Just a sec,’ I said.
Clay didn’t move. ‘I think we should get going. Sooner we lose this loony the better.
I rolled my eyes. I mean, why couldn’t Clay ever give me and Misfit a break? ‘ Coming ,’ I growled and I eased myself past Misfit, my thirst for flat, stale cola forgotten.
We made the short drive to Ashford town centre. Four of us had to squish in the back because Elaine didn’t trust us enough to leave us alone in the car while she rode her Zombie Response Team Mobile, like she thought we’d scarper (as if…). Before we set off and before anyone had chance to get in the car, Clay was like, ‘I’ll sit up front with Misfit and the rest of you with the smallest butts can fit in the back.’ Only, his arse is even skinnier than mine.
I felt pushed out but I didn’t argue, especially when Kay said, ‘I’m not squeezing in the back with all you lot. I’ll drive.’ Clay looked pissed off at that and tried to argue that Kay wasn’t well enough, but she shot him down and I suppressed a smirk. And I smirked for the whole thirteen minute journey with my body pressed up against Misfit’s in the back seat. The route from Bethersden to Ashford was mostly clear. Towards the town centre, the roads leading out were gridlocked but the side leading in was mostly free of abandoned cars, apart from the occasional burnt out wreck or crashed vehicle that Kay avoided by swerving onto the pavement.
At Elaine’s request, Kay stopped the car at the side of a main road, beside a nondescript brick-built gym, and we all climbed out. I held my knife in my left hand and my claw hammer sat nestled against my side, wedged in my belt. Kay clutched her trusty axe, Clay had his spiked boxing gloves hung around his neck and Elaine carried a carving knife similar to mine in length. And, of course, the clip-clop sound on the paving stones reminded me she had her spiked heels should she fancy pole dancing for hungry zombie punters. Not really that dissimilar to her human punters, I guessed; they all wanted the same thing: a piece of her flesh. I could make a joke about the zombies wanting her for her brains, but I won’t.
We crossed the road, following Elaine, and ducked into a smaller street off the main road, between a white building with The Lounge painted on its side with gold paint, and a brick and glass fronted building with white functional letters informing that it is the NHS’s Specialist Orthodontic Practice .
I’d not been to Ashford town centre before, pre or post zombie apocalypse so I had no idea where we were heading as we trotted down the narrow street, passing small fronted shops: a music shop, a dental practice, a sewing shop, a tiny Argos, various charity shops. I had expected the high street to be bigger, like Canterbury. I wondered how it could have been big enough for its pre-apocalypse population.
Outside Caffé Nero,
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