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to drive past Them. I slowed and stopped.
     
    I looked in the mirror. There were only three behind me. I looked up at the buildings. I could see the sheets. I could make out the towels hanging from the tower. I looked back at the road. Pushing and shoving, too many to count, They were getting closer.
    I put the car into reverse and did a three point turn. I glanced down at the pistol. How many shots did I have left? It suddenly seemed important.
     
    I edged the car forward, one eye on the three in front, the other on the approaching pack behind. I weaved the car left and right, picking up a bit more speed. Then, with a grimace, I gunned the engine and drove straight at the closest zombie. I swerved at the last moment, hitting it with the right side of the car. The lights smashed, the creature’s arms flew up as it was knocked down and under the wheels. The car rocked as I drove over it. I threw the wheel to the left, aiming the car at the next creature. It lurched at the last minute. I missed. I turned the wheel to the right, but I was going too fast. Another miss. I eased my foot off the pedal and let the car coast to a halt, bumping up onto the curb.
    I looked in the mirror as I played my foot up and down on the pedal. The engine sounded fine. Behind me the two creatures were twenty yards away and getting closer. Behind Them the pack was still approaching. Up ahead the road was clear for two hundred yards, up to the next junction where a zombie had just turned onto the main road. I had time.
    I lent over and rolled down the passenger side window. Then turned the wheel and edged the car forward so it was at right angles to the road. The two zombies were now less than ten yards away. They were close enough I could see the grey flecks in their eyes.
    I picked up the pistol, aimed, fired. Missed. Fired again. One zombie fell, I aimed and fired again. The bullet went low, smashing into the zombie’s thigh. That was good enough. It collapsed to the ground, its good leg kicking out, its hands scrabbling at concrete as it tried to pull itself towards the car.
    The pack was still a few hundred yards away. I edged the car round. There were two zombies on the road in front. Then three, then four. I eased the car forward, waiting until I was less than fifty yards from the nearest one, then I put on some speed, aimed the Land Rover straight at it, hitting it square on in an explosion of guts and gore. I missed the next two, but hit the one bringing up the rear. I looked back, the zombie I’d shot in the leg had disappeared under the mass of shambling feet.
     
    And so it went on. Forward a few dozen yards, slowing, stopping, then darting forward to mow one or two down, then pausing to keep the pack in sight. My pied piper routine seemed to be working. I’d covered less than two miles in just over twenty minutes. The car was battered, but the engine sounded fine. The only problem was that I was heading due south, straight for the boat.
    I took the first turning I came to, gunned the engine and ran down two zombies heading down the road towards me. I kept going until I reached an intersection. I braked. I waited, playing with the accelerator, letting the engine roar and bark until I was sure the pack was following and then I waited some more. Then I picked the road that had the fewest undead on it, drove forward to the next intersection, and the waiting began again.
     
    All my careful planning and thoughts about which roads might be best went out the window as I drove randomly through south London. Despite the undead, and the obstacles and rubbish that blocked the streets, driving was easy. The idea came to me that I could just keep this up, find an empty road and drive on through and out of London. I could go straight to north Wales and be halfway there before I ran out of fuel. In two days, three at the most I could be at the Doctor’s house. Perhaps I could even make it from there down to the rendezvous before the 2 nd August.