Lockey vs. the Apocalypse by Meadows, Carl (love novels in english .TXT) 📗

Swallowing the bile, I followed up while I still had the advantage. Shifting Emmy to the side while he was still face down, I pushed his bulbous face between the jaws, then held him there, helpless, while I whirled that industrial sized bar for all my worth; righty-tighty mother fucker. Finally, the jaws had fully clamped his temples and he couldn’t move. Panting by now, I clambered off him, and set to work with all my tiny strength on that bar.

Jesus, what a way to go. I mean, I know I was being creative, and I write about how awesome I am, but slowly crushing a human skull in a big ass vice is fucking nasty. Creaking, cracking, tension, straining and then suddenly…

Pop. Crunch. Fracture.

The tension is gone as the skull’s structure collapses. Then it’s a free roll into Squish Town.

I stood back after crushing Mr Emerson’s skull and brain in the bloody mess of the vice, surveyed my handiwork with a nod, put my hands on my hips in satisfaction like a champ, then promptly puked my guts up again, right next to his dangling corpse.

Lovely.

Tallahassee had to be proud right? That had to be a contender for Zombie Kill of the Week? Vice, vice baby.

I’m pretty sure I could hear the sound of my heart breaking as my full English breakfast splashed around my feet, though. Bye bye baby, it was nice to have known you for even a little while. Sob.

After I’d purged, I had more time to find the tools I had been denied. Finding a locked cupboard and my Sherlock-esque skills deducing the tools were in there, I returned to the Fat Controller, wondering how he’d died, as he didn’t have any bites or injuries I could see. Maybe his heart just gave out. I mean… shit… he wasn’t exactly training for a triathlon, was he?

Anyway, Emmy had keys in his pocket, and I returned to the locked cupboard, trying key after key that looked like it might fit.

By the way, who does that in an apocalypse? Locking away potential defensive weapons? Pretty sure that wanker wanted all the teenagers to get eaten and prevented them from acquiring any defensive capabilities. Wouldn’t surprise me. Seriously, that guy hated everyone.

Now, however, I have returned to Lockey Tower. I have hammers, screwdrivers, and a god damn crowbar which is my new favourite toy. It’s heavy and curly and pointy and all kinds of comforting to have in hand now.

Bottom line, I have food, water, tools / weapons, have secured the stairs so possess a relatively safe classroom to reside in while I figure shit out and I’m not dead. Now I just need to figure out a solid escape plan and get on the road and out of this shithole town and into the country before I get swarmed and eaten. Yay.

Best bit of the day though?

I got me a fucking brew.

Fuck yeah.

5th Entry

NOW WHAT?

So, what to do now? I can’t survive on Snickers and beans for the rest of my days, and I sure as shit can’t live in this classroom. Hell, I can’t stay in this crappy ass town either. The sensible thing would be for me to head out to one of the little country areas that surround it.

That’s the advantage of being in this little slice of northern English gold. There’s a whole lot of greenery and pretty villages and farms nearby, so I guess the smart thing to do is get away from the press of undead and hole up somewhere the zombies won’t be gathering in numbers.

Trouble is, I’m an urban lass. I don’t know shit about farming or surviving on my own without modern convenience. If I want to eat, I go to the store and buy shit, and long term that won’t cut the mustard. To be honest, the thought of heading down to Tesco doesn’t exactly fill me with excitement… I bet the supermarkets have been scavenged by now. That would have likely happened on day one as people loaded their cars and got the fuck out of town.

As people are generally shitty to each other, I’m pretty sure all kinds of awful shit went down there as frightened people went to war with each other over cans of soup in supermarket aisles. People are generally wankers in car parks, and I bet the hole in my ass they got jammed up and fights broke out, complete deadlock with people unable to get in and out, fists flying and so on. In such a massive press, it would take only one person to get killed in a fight and it would have been zombie ground zero, spreading like wildfire, and as I’ve stated, no firearms to stem the tide of growing undead.

Panic makes people do stupid shit (like not checking the bathroom for zombies when they’re busting for a dump) and people are generally stupid as a rule anyway in my experience. I mean, for fuck’s sake, get an inch of snow on the roads in England and people lose their minds, grinding the country to a halt. A zombie apocalypse? Ha. There’ll be mental and emotional breakdowns on an epic scale. We as a nation are not equipped to manage the social collapse, because most are selfish assholes. I wonder how the spiritual people are doing with their positive thinking and crystal energies?

But that’s me just musing. It doesn’t change my current situation. Problem number one… I need to find a Lockey HQ that’s away from the centre of all this bullshit. Thankfully, the nearest city is around 20 miles away, and man… I bet the likes of Manchester, Chester and Liverpool are fuuuuuuucked. Complete traffic gridlock, people fucking everywhere losing their minds. No direction. No clue. Panic, mayhem, murder.

So, to be able to get out of town, I need a vehicle and my eyes keep getting drawn to the too-big-for-this-town SUV blocking the exit. The keys must be still in the ignition