required to be handed in to police stations country-wide.
Within a week, it was announced that more firearms than had been
originally issued were recovered for disposal. By the end of
seventeen months of zombies, murder and mayhem, the public had lost
all taste for their use. Another benefit of the UK borders being
closed was that use of illegal drugs had been all but eradicated
and what few members remained of criminal gangs also relinquished
their guns.
Since the
stolen phial of virus had wreaked its havoc in the hands of
extremists and a third zombie epidemic had been averted, the day
was getting closer to when everyone could at last return to their
previous lives, as far as that was possible.
Chapter 14: Steve On
TV
Maisie chased a
stewed prune around her plate. 'I'm like totally bored with hotel
food and I want to see my mum.'
'Your mum does
a full choice of breakfast menus, does she?' Alex said, eyeing her
own plate and wondering if she should have gone for the kipper
rather than the eggs Benedict. For once Steve wasn't there to
negotiate a swap with.
'No but there's
like no peanut butter. A bit on toast would be nice.'
Rachel paused
from gnawing on a slice of melon. 'Maisie, you only have to
ask!'
'I know but I
don't like to.'
Rolling her
eyes and pushing back her chair, Rachel set off to the hot food
buffet bar in search of a piece or two of crispy bacon.
It was the
morning of the eighth day at the hotel. Boredom and frustration had
eaten away at the fugitives initial euphoria at being extracted
from the zombie battle at Stannicvale. Even though the kitchen
would provide whatever they wanted and a whole range of
entertainment equipment had been made available, what they needed
was something to do. Steve was the lucky one. With his mother's
permission, he'd been whisked away by armoured limo to the studios
at Television House.
Before the
fugitives were even awake, the British Prime Minister took the
decision to speak to the whole population of the United Kingdom.
Police cars with loud hailers patrolled the streets of every town
and city, and TV and radio announcements were repeated from dawn.
At nine o'clock sharp, the Prime Minister made a simulcast on every
channel:
'The second
outbreak of zombieism has been eradicated on British soil. Yes,' he
said with a smile of such reassuring warmth that it dared anyone to
disbelieve him, 'there are no longer any zombies in Britain.'
The PM stopped,
as if for a round of applause before continuing, 'Every person
infected from Kilkorne and the surrounding area, all the new
infectees in fact, have been saved from developing the late stages
of the disease and are, at this very moment, being returned to
their homes. This proves without doubt the effectiveness of a
newly-discovered vaccine against the zombie virus.'
'Now that a
successful vaccine has been tested, production will be ramped up.
It is my intention that every person in the UK will be inoculated
within a month. This, however, is not the only good news I have
interrupted your TV or radio schedules to speak about.' He looked
to his right and the camera panned in that direction to show a
rather apprehensive-looking young man.
'On my right
here, I have Mr. Steven Reynolds. He was a key player in devising a
weapon in the fight against zombieism, not only in the United
Kingdom but across the world. This young man is the inventor of the
Zombie Detector Torch, or ZDT, a device you will be seeing a lot of
in the future. Steven, please tell us briefly how it works.'
Steve's
expression indicated that he'd rather eat his own trainers than
speak up in front of the Prime Minister and every radio and TV
owning member of the UK population. However, the voice of the
programme director in his earpiece reminded him that if he'd
survived a zombie attack, he could say a few words on TV. Blushing
deeply, Steve said, 'The torch makes people's eyes glow green if
they're infected with the virus.'
'And why is
that important,
Within a week, it was announced that more firearms than had been
originally issued were recovered for disposal. By the end of
seventeen months of zombies, murder and mayhem, the public had lost
all taste for their use. Another benefit of the UK borders being
closed was that use of illegal drugs had been all but eradicated
and what few members remained of criminal gangs also relinquished
their guns.
Since the
stolen phial of virus had wreaked its havoc in the hands of
extremists and a third zombie epidemic had been averted, the day
was getting closer to when everyone could at last return to their
previous lives, as far as that was possible.
Chapter 14: Steve On
TV
Maisie chased a
stewed prune around her plate. 'I'm like totally bored with hotel
food and I want to see my mum.'
'Your mum does
a full choice of breakfast menus, does she?' Alex said, eyeing her
own plate and wondering if she should have gone for the kipper
rather than the eggs Benedict. For once Steve wasn't there to
negotiate a swap with.
'No but there's
like no peanut butter. A bit on toast would be nice.'
Rachel paused
from gnawing on a slice of melon. 'Maisie, you only have to
ask!'
'I know but I
don't like to.'
Rolling her
eyes and pushing back her chair, Rachel set off to the hot food
buffet bar in search of a piece or two of crispy bacon.
It was the
morning of the eighth day at the hotel. Boredom and frustration had
eaten away at the fugitives initial euphoria at being extracted
from the zombie battle at Stannicvale. Even though the kitchen
would provide whatever they wanted and a whole range of
entertainment equipment had been made available, what they needed
was something to do. Steve was the lucky one. With his mother's
permission, he'd been whisked away by armoured limo to the studios
at Television House.
Before the
fugitives were even awake, the British Prime Minister took the
decision to speak to the whole population of the United Kingdom.
Police cars with loud hailers patrolled the streets of every town
and city, and TV and radio announcements were repeated from dawn.
At nine o'clock sharp, the Prime Minister made a simulcast on every
channel:
'The second
outbreak of zombieism has been eradicated on British soil. Yes,' he
said with a smile of such reassuring warmth that it dared anyone to
disbelieve him, 'there are no longer any zombies in Britain.'
The PM stopped,
as if for a round of applause before continuing, 'Every person
infected from Kilkorne and the surrounding area, all the new
infectees in fact, have been saved from developing the late stages
of the disease and are, at this very moment, being returned to
their homes. This proves without doubt the effectiveness of a
newly-discovered vaccine against the zombie virus.'
'Now that a
successful vaccine has been tested, production will be ramped up.
It is my intention that every person in the UK will be inoculated
within a month. This, however, is not the only good news I have
interrupted your TV or radio schedules to speak about.' He looked
to his right and the camera panned in that direction to show a
rather apprehensive-looking young man.
'On my right
here, I have Mr. Steven Reynolds. He was a key player in devising a
weapon in the fight against zombieism, not only in the United
Kingdom but across the world. This young man is the inventor of the
Zombie Detector Torch, or ZDT, a device you will be seeing a lot of
in the future. Steven, please tell us briefly how it works.'
Steve's
expression indicated that he'd rather eat his own trainers than
speak up in front of the Prime Minister and every radio and TV
owning member of the UK population. However, the voice of the
programme director in his earpiece reminded him that if he'd
survived a zombie attack, he could say a few words on TV. Blushing
deeply, Steve said, 'The torch makes people's eyes glow green if
they're infected with the virus.'
'And why is
that important,
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