Surviving The Evacuation (Book 1): London by Frank Tayell
Authors: Frank Tayell
Tags: Zombies
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than a cricket bat she would have used it. Maybe there's food. Then again, she left the bag in the car, so maybe not.
I have to accept some responsibility for her death. No, not responsibility, that's not quite the right word. I didn't know she was there, nor did she know I was here, but her actions were precipitated by a car pulling up, a uniform getting out, being killed and then left, unlooked for by anyone in the overlooking houses and unclaimed by any of his comrades. If I wasn't here then maybe she'd still be in her house, maybe she would have lived, if only for a little longer.
No I shouldn't think like that. I mustn't think like that. It's not my fault, it isn't! Her death is not my responsibility. Even if I'd called out I doubt I could have reached the door in time to let her in. And if I had, all that would have happened is she'd have ended up in here sharing my food, with Them outside knowing where we were. It's not like I could have escaped with her. All it would have meant is the food would have run out in half the time, and that's the best possible scenario I can think of.
I've done enough soul-searching over it, and whether I kept silent out of self-preservation, fear or cowardice and whether it was the right thing to do or not, it wasn’t a conscious decision but it was a decision, and it's made and done.
It was that book, the romantic idea of two people finding and saving each other, of a Zombie with compassion. Reality is just so much more depressing.
But the batteries ran out last night, I need more unless I want to face another night in the dark, so back downstairs I go.
19:00, 16 th March.
Out of all the job description's I've ever had I think looter sounds the best. It's certainly more rakish than survivor. It's more proactive, yes, that's it.
It got me out of the maudlin introspection that's been plaguing me for the last few days. I found some more batteries for the torch (thank you Jessica, I refuse to call you Jezzelle any longer. I'd apologise, but since you aren't here...). There are two sets, neither new. Hopefully they'll last the night.
There's still a chance of another torch in the downstairs flats, but it's such a supremely useful and practical thing I just can't see either of them ever even thinking of buying one. Those two were both utterly hopeless, completely incapable of changing a light bulb, fuse or even of just turning the central heating off. I kept getting these emails, the summer before last when I was at the party conference (I forget which one, I usually went to all three), saying the house was too hot. They'd tried everything, and couldn't fix it, and on and on until I got in the car, and drove back arriving about three am and solving the problem ten seconds later by turning the thermostat down.
No, I can't see them having anything useful, but am I any better? I mean, there's my tool kit, but what else of any practical use do I have here? My torch, and it's a good one, along with the survival blanket, wrench, multi-tool and decent pair of walking boots, though those wouldn't be much use right now, are stuck in the boot of my car in an underground car-park on the other side of the river.
If they did have a torch it'll have been an App they downloaded onto their phone. How long would that have lasted them? One night? Two? It'll have run out by now, certainly.
When I found out they were gone I called Jen. I was sure that, since they'd left whilst the curfew was still in place they must surely have been picked up. She was in a cabinet meeting and I ended up speaking to an assistant, some officious dogsbody whom I'd never heard of and who clearly hadn't a clue who I was. I was assured that due to the large number of people who'd left early, no one was being arrested. They were “just muddling through with the evacuation as best they could. Thanks for the concern”. Then he hung up.
My plan, for it was my plan, though others may have come to the same
I have to accept some responsibility for her death. No, not responsibility, that's not quite the right word. I didn't know she was there, nor did she know I was here, but her actions were precipitated by a car pulling up, a uniform getting out, being killed and then left, unlooked for by anyone in the overlooking houses and unclaimed by any of his comrades. If I wasn't here then maybe she'd still be in her house, maybe she would have lived, if only for a little longer.
No I shouldn't think like that. I mustn't think like that. It's not my fault, it isn't! Her death is not my responsibility. Even if I'd called out I doubt I could have reached the door in time to let her in. And if I had, all that would have happened is she'd have ended up in here sharing my food, with Them outside knowing where we were. It's not like I could have escaped with her. All it would have meant is the food would have run out in half the time, and that's the best possible scenario I can think of.
I've done enough soul-searching over it, and whether I kept silent out of self-preservation, fear or cowardice and whether it was the right thing to do or not, it wasn’t a conscious decision but it was a decision, and it's made and done.
It was that book, the romantic idea of two people finding and saving each other, of a Zombie with compassion. Reality is just so much more depressing.
But the batteries ran out last night, I need more unless I want to face another night in the dark, so back downstairs I go.
19:00, 16 th March.
Out of all the job description's I've ever had I think looter sounds the best. It's certainly more rakish than survivor. It's more proactive, yes, that's it.
It got me out of the maudlin introspection that's been plaguing me for the last few days. I found some more batteries for the torch (thank you Jessica, I refuse to call you Jezzelle any longer. I'd apologise, but since you aren't here...). There are two sets, neither new. Hopefully they'll last the night.
There's still a chance of another torch in the downstairs flats, but it's such a supremely useful and practical thing I just can't see either of them ever even thinking of buying one. Those two were both utterly hopeless, completely incapable of changing a light bulb, fuse or even of just turning the central heating off. I kept getting these emails, the summer before last when I was at the party conference (I forget which one, I usually went to all three), saying the house was too hot. They'd tried everything, and couldn't fix it, and on and on until I got in the car, and drove back arriving about three am and solving the problem ten seconds later by turning the thermostat down.
No, I can't see them having anything useful, but am I any better? I mean, there's my tool kit, but what else of any practical use do I have here? My torch, and it's a good one, along with the survival blanket, wrench, multi-tool and decent pair of walking boots, though those wouldn't be much use right now, are stuck in the boot of my car in an underground car-park on the other side of the river.
If they did have a torch it'll have been an App they downloaded onto their phone. How long would that have lasted them? One night? Two? It'll have run out by now, certainly.
When I found out they were gone I called Jen. I was sure that, since they'd left whilst the curfew was still in place they must surely have been picked up. She was in a cabinet meeting and I ended up speaking to an assistant, some officious dogsbody whom I'd never heard of and who clearly hadn't a clue who I was. I was assured that due to the large number of people who'd left early, no one was being arrested. They were “just muddling through with the evacuation as best they could. Thanks for the concern”. Then he hung up.
My plan, for it was my plan, though others may have come to the same
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