Promise Me....

How would you spend your last few hours on earth? Oh God! I hear you say - This is one of those familiar questions you see on threads through a thousand forums online – like 1

· Where would you go in the event of a Zombie Holocaust?2

· What would you take?3

· What is the best weapon to use?4

· Which do you prefer Dawn of the Dead 78 or 04?5

I could go on – but that would be wasting my last few hours. As a famous rap group once said “When the shit goes down, you better be ready.” And I’m ashamed to say I wasn’t. But truly who would be really? 6

When I was buttering my toast this morning, did I think about whether I had a sharpened Shaolin shovel at my disposal? (Thanks Max Brooks – your ideas were kind of a mute point, when it came down to it – sorry, but they were) 7

When I was drinking my mug of tea, did I think whether my house was secure enough against whatever would attack? No – I was thinking about the fact that John still hadn’t paid the phone bill, so I was going to have to do it, otherwise my Internet would be cut off and I wouldn’t be able to work (yeah, thanks for that John – although that too seems like a mute point at this time)8

So anyway – I’m starting to feel like those soldiers you read about sometimes, you know the ones dying in field hospitals that dictate their last letters to loved ones. Although, at this stage I don’t know if I have any of those left. Perhaps it’s a vanity thing, not wanting my life to pass without someone knowing what happened to me. Like anything I ever did in this world was worth a shit – still, obscurity is worse than infamy in my book. But I digress, and I don’t really have the time – my leg is already throbbing painfully, although I don’t think it will bother me too much longer – now that I’ve downed the contents of my medicine cabinet and a bottle of John’s 20 year old Laphroaig whisky. I’m expecting to feel mighty toasted in a few minutes. Ironic, for someone who hated alcohol in any form.9

Ok, so I eat my toast and drink my tea – John drops a kiss on my cheek as he’s going out the door, telling me we’ve got a dinner with one of his clients later and to dress conservatively. Which means ditch the nose ring and wear something that covers my tattoo’s up. That pisses me off for over an hour, until I get online and read my latest Dilbert just delivered to my inbox. He always makes me laugh. I pop in my tape, put on my headphones and start transcribing – I’m a medical transcriber – boring job, although I do have a wealth of knowledge about sexually transmitted diseases now – my boss is a Doctor specialising in G.U.M (basically a clap doctor – if it smells and itches you’ve come to the right place) Meh! It’s easy, well paid and I get to sit at home all day (plus I’m a whiz on the keyboard, so I’m usually finished by lunch) so then I watch TV or surf the net, occasionally I’ll even wash a dish, but only occasionally.10

God! Why am I faffing on about shit when I haven’t got the time? I could never get to the point when I had the time, now I’m finding it even harder! Come on – focus – you haven’t got time for this.11

Ok I didn’t notice anything was wrong until I had finished my three tapes and took off my headphones. The dog nextdoor was howling, made me want to put my headphones back on again – but I didn’t. My stomach was growling and I realised it was after 3pm. So I came down stairs from my office (the spare room actually, but it has a desk!) and rummaged around in the fridge – when I closed the door, Andy Morris, the 10 year old from next door was standing there panting hard, dried tears and blood on his cheeks.12

“They’re all dead, all of them.” He whispered his shirt was also covered in blood. Well I crapped myself (not literally, I might add) and helped him to a chair.13

“What happened?” I asked him as I ran a tea towel under the cold tap to wash his face. His eyes widened in horror and he shook his head vigorously.14

“He wouldn’t stop, he wouldn’t! I got in from school and he was standing over my Mum and she was lying on the kitchen floor. There was so much blood!” I knelt beside him and wiped at the blood on his face.15

“Who wouldn’t stop Andy?” I was beginning to feel uneasy – going through a checklist in my mind. Phone the police, go over there and take a look myself, leave Andy with Mrs Parker next door but one while I did it. The boy was traumatised, I didn’t have the skills to help him – I killed houseplants for God sake!16

“My Dad.” He managed to say finally. I got to my feet and looked around me, noticing the back door was open. I closed it instinctively, locking it and pulling down the blind. I went back to Andy, picking up the towel and wiping at him again. He was quiet, unmoving now, his eyes devoid of emotion.17

“Where’s your Dad now?” I asked him. He bit at his lip, not wanting to remember. “Andy, where’s your Dad now?” I asked again, feeling the tension in the room rising. Finally he answered me, his voice quiet and breathy.18

“He was eating her, he had his face buried in her stomach and he was eating her. I slipped over; there was so much blood. He didn’t even look at me when I shouted at him. He just kept eating her.” His voice caught in his throat and he looked up at me with eyes full of tears.19

“Then she woke up, while he was eating her – but it wasn’t my Mum anymore, and she reached for me and I got up and kept running.” 20

I don’t know what my face looked like when he told me, but at that moment I knew he was telling the truth. Fucking Hell on Earth, I thought, thinking back to those Romero film’s I’d watched over and over again. What do I do? How do I keep safe? I ran through the house locking the doors and windows and pulling down the blinds, until the house was in semi-darkness. 21

“Andy come with me upstairs, it’s safer up there.” I managed to say before I lost my voice completely through fear. He stood up and held out his hand to me, yet something stopped me from taking it.22

“Did he bite you Andy?” I stammered. Andy’s eyes widened and he looked me square in the face and nodded. He held out the arm of his bloody sweatshirt and pulled it up to reveal a horrific bite mark on his wrist. 23

“I’m going to die aren’t I?” He said, his eyes filling with tears. I shook my head, thinking instinctively where I could put him.24

“The safest place for you Andy is in the cellar. The door is heavy and has a lock on it – there’s a telly down there and a playstation 2 - you can play on it until the police and the ambulance comes.” He nodded, although I think he knew I was scared of him, and it frightened him. He was just a little boy, he didn’t understand what was happening, but I did. I led him to the cellar door, which was under the stairs, opening it for him.25

“Please don’t leave me down there alone.” He said his hands reaching for me. I shook them off, not wanting him to touch me.26

“Andy come on you’ve got to be brave – it’ll only be for a little while, until it’s safe to come out again.” He started walking down the dimly lit stairs, and I watched him go, feeling relieved. I turned away from him, getting ready to lock the door, when his small hand grabbed my leg. His nails tore through my tights leaving bloody welts on my skin. I kicked his hand off and slammed the door shut, locking it before he could get out. He banged on the door, screaming at me.27

“Please let me out! Please don’t leave me down here alone.” I started to cry, more at the pain in my leg than the fact I had just locked a frightened 10-year-old boy in my cellar, who may or may not be a burgeoning zombie. There – I said it – ZOMBIE. I walked up the stairs, trying to ignore the pain in my leg. 28

Wow! He got me good, the little fucker! I thought as I picked up the phone and dialled 999. The line was engaged, which was bloody impossible, there had to 40,000 phone lines into 999 all over the country – why would there be 40,000 people on the phone right now? And the answer hit me square in the face – because it’s end of the world (I can’t help humming R.E.M here, if only to keep my sanity) Andy’s banging had subsided and he was quiet now. I felt a twinge of guilt, until I looked down at my leg and saw the damage he’d done. My tights were ruined! I’d sent to America for these from Hot Topic when I was going through my Pirate phase (they had skulls all over them) they’d cost me over £20. I was rightly pissed off then! I took them off and used them to mop up the blood from the scratches. Now clean they didn’t look too bad – maybe I was going to be all right? But then the reality of the situation hit home and I knew the truth – I was fucked.29

I tried John’s mobile, it rang, and I almost wept in happiness when he picked it up.30

“Thank God! I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day! Sarah I want you to lock the house up tight – there’s riots all over the city – I’ll be home as soon as I can. Don’t answer the door to anyone.” I shook my head as the tears started to roll down my cheeks.31

“Don’t come home Babe, one of them got me. I love you.” I managed to say before I dissolved into sobs. He swore on the end of the phone.32

“Bloody Hell Sarah, Are you sure? How bad is it?” I dragged in a breath between sobs.33

“It’s bad – I didn’t get bit, but one of them scratched me. John I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I sobbed almost incoherently. For all his faults John did love me, I knew he did.34

“I’m going to head to the basement at work then. Most of them have left already, it’ll be safer down there.” I bit my lip as the irony of his words hit home. “Will you be ok?” He said finally.35

“I’m going to die John. I don’t want to turn into one of them, but I haven’t got a gun. Promise me something.” I said taking a deep breath.36

“What? You know I’d do anything for you.” I exhaled loudly.37

“If you see me on the street, and I’m one of them, don’t think of me as I am, kill me. A nice clean shot to the head would do it. Promise me, you’ll kill me John, Promise.” He started to cry, it was heartbreaking to hear, he had only cried once in the 8 years we’d been together and that was at his Mother’s funeral.38

“Don’t talk like that Sarah, they’ll be able to help you.” I swore loudly.39

“John listen to me, I don’t know how I know, but I know – I’m fucked! Promise me, as the last thing you’ll do for me – kill me if you see me. Don’t come home and try to be heroic. I love you.” Then I put down the phone, turning off the ringer. I knew he’d keep ringing. He was nothing if not persistent. 40

So that was three hours ago – my leg is badly swollen and looks like corned beef all the way up to my thigh. Andy is one of them now; his banging is rhythmic, almost hypnotic. Strangely it doesn’t bother me anymore. There are about five of them on my front lawn, waiting for me. They haven’t even tried to get in. I don’t want to go with them, be like them, but I haven’t got a choice.41

John if you find this, know that I love you – that I will always love you. Don’t cry over me, there wasn’t anything you could have done. Remember the good times always. And John…..remember your promise to me.42