Zombies! Outbreak Huddersfield – Part 2

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS SWEARING, VIOLENCE AND GORE

After resting from the mornings exertions and partaking of a particularly average microwave curry, Paul considered his options. The power was still on, that was undoubtedly a good sign. Somewhere people were doing normal things like making electricity, so men like Paul could eat badly made curries.

On the other hand Craig, Paul’s neighbour was now a slavering zombie with the consumption of large quantities of flesh his number one priority. Craig was outside the door now, fumbling at the handle and moaning morosely.

In every life or death situation, in every carefully planned scenario, thought up by people who spend every waking moment thinking about strange scenarios, the advice is always the same. Stay where you are and wait for rescue.

Unfortunately Paul had never attended a Zombie regulations meeting, and quite frankly would probably still have fallen asleep, just like he did in the fire regulations meetings at work. What Paul had seen, was every action and horror film available from the Waterloo Blockbuster, and in every single one of those films the people that got the hell out of whatever place they were in, lived. Sure for a while the people who staid put were ok, but slowly the monsters work out the weaknesses. There was no way Paul would end up the guy that stayed put in the film.

So he decided to leave.

First things first, protection.

Paul ransacked his wardrobes looking for his sturdiest clothes, luckily he had gone through a hiking faze about six months ago so had some pretty heavy stuff. Dressed in hiking boots, two pairs of jeans covered in waterproof trousers, thick coat with magazines pushed down the arms and a pink cycling helmet that belonged to his ex, he felt reasonably bite proof. Just to be extra cautious he put on a dust mask and some leather gloves that were too big for him and had subsequently never been worn. Now he turned his attentions to his next need, weapons.

Paul looked at the mega cock on the table. Zombie holocaust or not, there was no way he would be seen fighting for freedom waving a massive dildo in his hands. He didn’t have a cricket bat or any golf clubs, he just wasn’t that sporty. There were a few knives in a block by the oven but he didn’t really fancy getting in close to use them. He cast his eyes about the room. All this crap he had collected and now he couldn’t even defend himself unless it was with a stolen sex toy.

He was about to start taking furniture apart, when he remembered something under the sink. When he first got the flat, the carpet fitters had left behind a crow bar, he had meant to drop it off for them for months now. Scattering Mr Sheen and Absinthe, Paul located the hefty bar at the back of the cupboard. Standing he gave it an experimental swing, nice.

Stuffing some breakfast bars and chocolate into his pocket Paul worked out his route. He would get downstairs to the car, with all the security doors in the building it shouldn’t be too bad. Next he would drive over to Dave’s in Moldgreen as that was closest, see if he was still alive and knew anything. After that, well after that he would have another think.

Paul moved the furniture away from his front door, unhooked the security chain, unlocked the door and stood back, crow bar raised.

The Zombie Craig hearing the noise made renewed moaning cries and buffeted the door from the other side.

Retard can’t even open a door!

Paul opened the door wide in a swinging ark to reveal Craig with an expression of wonder on his face that the door had just opened.

“Sorry Craig!” said Paul meaning it and brought the crow bar down on Craig’s head. The already cracked skull sank and then split as the steel demolished its contents. Craig dropped instantly to the floor, dead for good.

Paul stepped over his former neighbour’s corpse and looked down the corridor. It seemed Craig’s fat girlfriend was as lazy dead as she was alive.

Paul decided against the lift, he had seen Dawn of the Dead not too long ago and got claustrophobic anyway. The stairs although knackering proved risk free, with just one moment when he saw a grey faced Zombie peering at him through a glass fire door. Luckily the stairs went all the way down to the underground car park, all he had to do was punch in the code to open the door. Paul peered through the glass, darkness beyond, no movement. Quickly he opened the door and ran to the far side of the car park where his battered Mondeo was parked.

Two figures detached themselves from the shadows and began to walk towards him as he checked his pockets for his keys, his keys!

“Oh you twat Paul!” he yelled berating himself.

The two figures shuffled nearer, one was a woman Paul didn’t recognise, and the other was Patrick the security guard. Both began to moan loudly and raised their arms as they drew closer to Paul’s car. This was not the movies, he was not a Customer Service Clerk who just happened to have been a Navy Seal, he could not hot-wire cars.

The security guard Patrick lunged forward forcing Paul to swipe him away with the crow bar; he landed in a heap but continued to move. The woman made a noise somewhere between a scream and a moan, grabbing on to Paul’s arm and trying to bite through the material of his coat. He pulled his arm free causing a flicker of disappointment to cross the Zombie woman’s features. She hadn’t been able to get a good hold as in her other arm she clutched a handbag that had obviously been important in her previous life. Paul hit her full in the face with the trusty crow bar flicking her head back with a crack. As she fell he yanked the bag from her hand. Inside was the usual debris of lipstick, mirror, nail varnish and … car keys.

“Jackpot!” cried Paul kicking off Patrick’s attempt to crawl over and eat his foot. He pressed the lock open symbol on the keys and some lights flashed two cars down the row of vehicles. A brand new BMW.

Paul’s face split into a grin “Nice, very nice”.