inserting the needle into his skin, allowing the thiopental, pancuronium and potassium chloride to flood into his bloodstream causing cardiac arrest. However, they both knew that this method did not stop reanimation. Jack jumped at the sound of his friend discharging his firearm. He knew that Tim was taking no chances and had made sure that he would not be coming back.
This is the road to nowhere and nowhere seems good right now, Jack thought. The MAK’s tank was full; he had packs of ration food, water and ammunition in the back. Jack didn’t know how long it would last him, but it didn’t matter, he would live one day at a time.
Jack stopped running and collapsed to the floor; his feet were tired and sore, he wiped his sweaty brow with his sleeve, catching his breath. Looters and thieves had boorishly awakened him as they ransacked the jeep for his supplies. Despite the fact he had lost his only means of transportation, he was just glad to have escaped with his life. He had a full nylon, camouflage patterned container of water, a gun and the determination to survive. He didn’t know where he was heading, but he knew it couldn’t be worse than where he had been.
He got to his feet and blindly trudged on in the darkness that had now descended; there was no moon or stars to light his way. Jack found it dif ficult to stick to the road and he longed for the sunrise.
T he smell of mud and carcasses filled the air and his footsteps seemed amplified in the quiet of the night, the darkness and the silence seemed to move around him like a thick fog, suddenly he walked into something!
Blindly he spun round pointing his gun in all directions, his heart pumped so hard it felt as if it were in his mouth. Trying to slow his breathing in order to get his bearings, he was suddenly and violently pushed over falling to the ground on his back. His weapon disappeared into the blackness of the night as his body hit the wet grass. Suddenly the assailant was upon him. It was one of the dead. With his head turned to one side Jack fought to hold it at arm’s length, this was the closest he had been to one in a long while. As he struggled to maintain his control, Jack could hear its teeth snapping, a snarling noise coming out of the monsters mouth as it continued to try to lunge at him, the stench of its breath made him feel sick and bile rose in his throat. The monster was heavy and its flailing arms tugged at Jacks top. Suddenly, he felt a breeze and his face was soaked with blood. It stopped struggling, quickly went limp and slumped on top of him. Jack pushed the body off him and heard it fall in to the mud next to him with a sluuurp. Hands reached out to his in the darkness, gripping his own; they were warm hands, he knew that they belonged to someone who was still alive, relief flooded his body and he let out a sigh.
“Wha-wha-what, the f-f-fu, heck you doing out here in the dark? That’s nec-nec-necrophilia you know,” stammered a voice.
Rain swept down into the spotlit compound, which had formally been an outdoor adventure land. In a steel fenced enclosure large wooden shelters that once housed animals, cafes, a restaurant and shop huts, were a haven of activity. Beyond the enclosure was another large fence, surrounded by yet another fence, this one had signs on it warning of the dangers of touching an electric fence. Unkempt people walked in and out of the huts dotted around the shelter. It now resembled a world-war two prison camp rather than a place of fun; its purpose was to keep people out, rather than in.
Jack sat on a bench under a shelter hugging a bowl of soup, watching the rainfall around him. It was an outpost run by a beefed up organisation of would-be soldiers. They had created their own little army, with its own ranks, with their own slogans hung around the camp, ‘dead? Kill it again’ and ‘alive is potentially dead’.
There were f ew women and children, Jack noticed as he discreetly looked
This is the road to nowhere and nowhere seems good right now, Jack thought. The MAK’s tank was full; he had packs of ration food, water and ammunition in the back. Jack didn’t know how long it would last him, but it didn’t matter, he would live one day at a time.
Jack stopped running and collapsed to the floor; his feet were tired and sore, he wiped his sweaty brow with his sleeve, catching his breath. Looters and thieves had boorishly awakened him as they ransacked the jeep for his supplies. Despite the fact he had lost his only means of transportation, he was just glad to have escaped with his life. He had a full nylon, camouflage patterned container of water, a gun and the determination to survive. He didn’t know where he was heading, but he knew it couldn’t be worse than where he had been.
He got to his feet and blindly trudged on in the darkness that had now descended; there was no moon or stars to light his way. Jack found it dif ficult to stick to the road and he longed for the sunrise.
T he smell of mud and carcasses filled the air and his footsteps seemed amplified in the quiet of the night, the darkness and the silence seemed to move around him like a thick fog, suddenly he walked into something!
Blindly he spun round pointing his gun in all directions, his heart pumped so hard it felt as if it were in his mouth. Trying to slow his breathing in order to get his bearings, he was suddenly and violently pushed over falling to the ground on his back. His weapon disappeared into the blackness of the night as his body hit the wet grass. Suddenly the assailant was upon him. It was one of the dead. With his head turned to one side Jack fought to hold it at arm’s length, this was the closest he had been to one in a long while. As he struggled to maintain his control, Jack could hear its teeth snapping, a snarling noise coming out of the monsters mouth as it continued to try to lunge at him, the stench of its breath made him feel sick and bile rose in his throat. The monster was heavy and its flailing arms tugged at Jacks top. Suddenly, he felt a breeze and his face was soaked with blood. It stopped struggling, quickly went limp and slumped on top of him. Jack pushed the body off him and heard it fall in to the mud next to him with a sluuurp. Hands reached out to his in the darkness, gripping his own; they were warm hands, he knew that they belonged to someone who was still alive, relief flooded his body and he let out a sigh.
“Wha-wha-what, the f-f-fu, heck you doing out here in the dark? That’s nec-nec-necrophilia you know,” stammered a voice.
Rain swept down into the spotlit compound, which had formally been an outdoor adventure land. In a steel fenced enclosure large wooden shelters that once housed animals, cafes, a restaurant and shop huts, were a haven of activity. Beyond the enclosure was another large fence, surrounded by yet another fence, this one had signs on it warning of the dangers of touching an electric fence. Unkempt people walked in and out of the huts dotted around the shelter. It now resembled a world-war two prison camp rather than a place of fun; its purpose was to keep people out, rather than in.
Jack sat on a bench under a shelter hugging a bowl of soup, watching the rainfall around him. It was an outpost run by a beefed up organisation of would-be soldiers. They had created their own little army, with its own ranks, with their own slogans hung around the camp, ‘dead? Kill it again’ and ‘alive is potentially dead’.
There were f ew women and children, Jack noticed as he discreetly looked
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