The Zombie Diaries - Part 2 - Vivisection

I new when I got here that I wouldn't be leaving, ever probably. When the plague struck I was almost killed in the first hours. As you can imagine working in a morgue and doing dissections didn't put my odds in any sort of good place. I still remember the flesh moving in my hands and the shock it sent though ever part of me, my judgement just couldn't understand what was happening.
In my work I take things at face value, if theres a bullet wound in someone they we're shot, if there's a massive growth they died of cancer and if they're dead they're dead. The eyes don't start to stare at you again and live, no hunger, doesn't grow back into the eyes and the arms don't reach out for you. I've often wondered if they mean to reach out to hurt you or if they're just sacred, scared of being dead? But my only instinct was to run and lock him in. It wasn't long till the military we're on the scene, they took me, not by force but they took me to where I am now. It's some sort of compound designed for a situation like this. We're very far underground by my reckoning, I know for a fact that the prime minister is someone down here as well as what part of the royal family we're in london.
What they want'd me to do isn't something I agreed with, it's not right in my mind, I remember the conversation they had with me when they asked me to do it, the worst conversation of my life:

The white brick walls and polished metal table seemed to stare at me, like I was in the room with them and not the other way around. I was waiting to be given some sort of task that would keep me in this safe place for now, I knew I'd bought my way here by being a doctor and that I was needed for something but I didn't exactly know what. Maybe they just want me to keep everyone healthy, I thought innocently but I knew that it was something more sinister, something that was much more out of the ordinary, but what part of any of this is ordinary. The door suddenly opened making me jump, but then everything seems to make me jump nowadays. The man that had walked in was about twice me age, in his mid fifty's  with an army style haircut, and a standard green uniform that i'd been seeing everywhere.
"So you're the Doctor that we nabbed ah" I new this man, he was the chief of this whole operation.
"I guess I am" I said quietly, it was like being back at school and talking to the head teacher.
"Excellent, well I'll get straight to the point then shall I, this epidemic that's going on, we need your help" I nodded looking at him inquisitively "You know how all this works right? The virus, the dead, the killing?"
"I've been briefed on everything that's going on, do you know how far spread it is yet?"
"We've heard of reports in most of the Uk but london is still the only place overrun by the dead" For an army man he seem rather human, his voice made you want to talk, want to do well for him.
"What about over sea's" he sighed.
"In europe it's widespread as far as italy but not chaos like up there" He pointed to the ceiling. "There was a chase in just now of a man dying in New-york then coming back, someone told me they've started shooting people in the head after they've died over there just to be sure"
"What about New Zealand, my family are over there, my mum and dad, is there anything there?' he shook his head and a faint glimmer of hope lit up inside me.
"This is chaotic as you know, and we need to find a cure to this virus" did he not know I couldn't do that.
"Thats not what I do, I cut apart bodies"
"Yes we know, we want you to do that on one of those err things" I retracted slightly "Don't worry it'll be very safe, you'll be fine" it was my turn to smile at his assumption I was scared of catching it.
"That's not my concern, don't you think there's a person in there?" he looked at me in puzzlement, eyes asking for just a brief moment whether I was mad.
"NO" He spat "They're nothing but instinct and savage, there's nothing human in there" I nodded at his view. "But you'll do it won't you?"
"Sure anyway I can help" he looked pleased and I was glad to have my suspicions confirmed.
"Dissection's at five" he said and began to leave.
"Vivisection" I corrected and he stopped and turned.
"What"
"Well if the thing is still alive, human or not, it's a vivisection" I said calmly. He raised his eyebrows.
"Well there you go my word for the day, vivisection" he turned and left.

I would have never known at the time but that was something that would haunt me forever. His offhanded approach to this whole situation, like it happened every fortnight. I hadn't been given much time to think about what I was doing so I didn't, I spent the few hours i'd been given trying to make sure I remember to do everything right, the cut's the samples make sure I get everything I need. But I was thinking that it was just some sort of standard everyday task i'd been doing, it was anything but:

I arrived at elevator at five to five, something my mum taught me. There was a different person waiting to greet me, a officer called Watson, first names seem unheard of down here. He greeted me and we went into the lift. He looked younger than me, and looked nervous.
"You alright?" I asked. He shook his head.
"Never seen one before" he said quickly, and I wondered how with london how it is.
When we got to the room there we're just military there, all making sure I would not get killed but I wasn't really worried about that. My subject was on the table making grunting sounds but the way it was restrained meant it couldn't move one little bit. I turned to Watson.
"Could we get some Jazz music in here, I'm used to working with that and it would drown out the... well whatever you want to call it" He stared right passed me for a second then nodded and asked someone to get me what I wanted. Ten minuets later they came in with an iPod doc and my iPod, I didn't approve of them going into my room but at least they had got it, and it was there room really. Tony Bennett's Duet album from 2011 caught me attention and I set the volume to a level that filled the little room with life. My hands worked over the infected woman, looking for sighs that there was some sort of parasite but I found none, I could tell she was a smoker and had had kids but nothing that would explain why she came back to life or what killed her in the first place. What I had found was that her organs never restarted when she was resurrected. When things came to a close and I couldn't do anymore I went round to the head for the first time, making the soldiers uneasy. I looked into her eyes, they looked at me with anger, hatred and starvation. The music stops and Watson walks over.
"Are you done"
"Yes i've got everything I can" he nods and takes out his pistol and holds it to the woman's head. And for a moment, the smallest amount of time you can think of, she looks at me in distress, before having her head blown off. You'd think a gunshot would register as being loud but what I register is the sighs of relief coming from the men.

In my mind what I did to that woman was wrong, she was in there, and I cut her open.

One month later it's confirmed New Zealand is overrun.

I feel the rope in my hands, a hangman's knot was something I was always good at when I was in scots and now I realise that it was leading to this point in my life. The world as we knew it is gone now, only chaos and hunger are above ground. I remember hearing that america had fell, china turned into hell the russian front was falling back and that India had been overrun in five days. So you can't fault my decision to take my own life. I know I'm no use to finding a cure anymore, I made sure I did everything I could. Goodbye and Good luck.

Stephen Jenner

The Zombie Diaries - Part 1 – Outbreak

Day 1 – September 11 2014 - First Case 

The following is a transcript of a recorded message that was found in the ruins of the London, at the emergency services response department –

“999 what’s your emergency?”

Panicked voice “My friend, she’s gone crazy, I thought she was dead, oh god she trying to get in”

“Try to stay calm, where are you?”

“66 shutter close, you need to…” Screams heard followed by chaotic sounds.

“Hello, what’s happening? Help is on the way... can you answer” The sound of an animal tearing at flesh can be heard. 

Day 2 - September 12 2014 - Going Public 

The next item is a transcript of a news report found in the BBC london headquarters - 

"...Yesterday at around 9pm two police officers were brutally attacked by a woman in her mid twenties in east london, one of the officers was fatally wounded while the other has been taken to hospital. Another victim of these attacks was Lois Watson, a friend of the woman who's identity is still to be determined" 

"The woman in question who was later shot after biting and injuring several people and refusing to let her victims go. We now go live to the hospital where the injured officer is been treated, can you tell us anymore about the mans condition?" Cut's to hospital.

"Well we've had word from doctors that he's in a critical condition and apparently fighting of some sort of infection, we've also heard that other people who were attacked by the same person who attacked the police are coming down with something that doctors can't identify" 

After this it appears the digital copy has been corrupted. 

Day 3 - September 13 2014 - The ensuing chaos 

We have hear, statements from londoners that were evacuated and taken to the refugee camp to the north of london, the camp has since been overrun by the infected and the refugees either scattered or where infected and turned, these statements outline the first stages of mass infection in london. 

Joan rivers: 

I lived wembley and didn't experience any of the initial chaos as the infection started somewhere in the east. The news said that there we're riots and that there we're cases of people who had been proclaimed dead waking back up and attacking anything that moved. I got a phone call from my mum, who lives in scotland, and she told me I should get out of london which is what I tried to do. But the M1 was deadlocked and people we're abandoning there cars and walking down the motorway, it was then that I came into contact with a, well it was a person but they'd been infected and they we're out of control. After he, it attacked, everyone began to panic and run, I saw more and more of the infected then but i just kept on running, i'd never been so scared in my life. I heard talk of a camp for people trying to get out of london. I thought it was mad at first, like something out of a third world country. And that's how I ended up here after hitching a ride with a hijacked car and going along the side roads.  

Peter grant: 

It all went from nothing to chaos so fast, I had to take of in the night with my kids cause I didn't want to stay in london in case something happened to them, i'd seen those things chasing people down my street. So I took them out the back through the ally's and we got to the train station. But nothing was working so we ended up just walking down the line, we stayed in an abandoned house for a few days, but I saw the infected looking for anything living from the windows. We stayed until a military van drove past and I begged them to take me and my kids out which they did. 

Scared Of My Own Mind

Lately i've been having a lot of nightmares, it's been building up and up over the last month and I'm not sure why my mind is so active. It's the reality that scares me when in comes to nightmare, not the fact that I'm having them but the fact that they seems real while I'm in them. Two nights on the run now I've had bad dreams and loads in the past, but more recently they always seem to involve zombies or something that scares me enough to wake me. Then once I'm awake I know I'm not dreaming but I'm still scared, the smallest sound in my house makes me think zombies are just round the corner. I lie there convincing myself that that zombies don't sneak up you, that if there was one in the house it would have ate me by now. I woke up seating last night but at the same I was shivering. The worst part was that I new I had to go back to sleep, on one day I woke up around half six and new there was no need to go back under but last night it was three in the morning so I did have to go back to sleep and i found myself lying there with my eyes closed thinking "there's no such thing as zombies" over and over again. 


I don't get why my mind is doing this to myself, so I thought i'd pour everything I know about this into a blog post and hope it made a bit more sense, but I don't think it is if I'm honest. Maybe it's because i've been writing a lot more recently and my thoughts just keep going on and they come out as dreams at night. Anyway we'll see what happens with everything and I am thinking of doing another big blog post about a zombie apocalypse now, just to calm my nerves, so we'll see what happens here hoping for a full nights sleep. 

Why? Why'd you think?

Someone asked me what I'm writing this for, random cause I thought it was obvious, I write cause I want my feelings and everything that’s in my head, every mood, every idea, every passing emotion, good, bad or extreme to be preserved. Cause I want to be able to look back on all this and see what life used to be like, and see what a nut job i used to be, or I might be even worse and I might see how sane I used to be. Just goes right into the idea that life could go in any direction really and nobody really know's where we going to end up. The smartest person I know might end up going to the wrong party getting drunk and nine months later theres another human with half his genes or the most unlikely person might come up with the best business idea and end up richer than I can ever hope to be. 

Right now at this point in life more or less everyone I know is on the same level, just hoping to get through A-Level or GCSEs like I am. But then what happens when we're all let out into the big bad world? Well I can't even imagine how to answer that one cause anyone could go anyway. I know where I want to be but I have no idea where I'm going to end up. And that just about sums the whole thing up doesn't it, everyone knows where they'd like to be but nobody, however sure you are, knows where they are going to end up. For some people they might end up in a place better than that which they imagined and some may end up in a worse place. 

So why am I writing this? Well cause where ever I end up and however I get there I know that the Journey is going to be amazing, cause if I don't have an amazing life then whats the point to trying to get anywhere. 

The New World, Or The Old One?

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Black, it’s the canvas, the backdrop to life, black with, green, green numbers.

In a room the size of a, well no one can be sure. In a room which must go on forever, yes maybe that’s it, this isn’t a room it’s a the world, it goes on and on and on until you’ve gone all the way round and end up where you’ve started. In this existence, there are only rows, which is the world really. Rows of white boxes, which sit on top of black tables, which stand on top a white floor. In front of each screen sits a person. There eyes never move from the screen that’s in front of them, if the gaze has ever been broken or ever will be is anyone’s guess.

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But why, the green letters never seem to say, why is all this here, why everything.

In front of every person is a keyboard, but there are no letters, only numbers and symbols. Figures seem to glide over them like it’s what’s keeping them alive, but it’s not that, it’s all they know to do, what they think life is. All that can be heard is the pressing of keys and slow breathing, the two seem to both be an instinctive, not able to stop either without trying, but why would you try to stop to breathe. Out of each person wires grow, they all come from different part of the body, and all contain different color liquids or gasses. The wires spiral upwards until becoming one, and then disappearing into the cardboard sky. One square in the sky for every person, on each square the wire disappears in the center and then there’s a number, it’s going up every square we go. 

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What am I doing again? Did I ever know? When did I get here? When will I leave?

Number 274001167 looks up, and then quickly back down at the screen, not taking his figures away from the keyboard or stopping the swift movement. Nobody else turns there head, nobody even registers then unseen movement, the person sitting next to him has been here for 50 years, if you’d watched him for that amount of time then you wouldn’t have seen him move his head a single millimeter. After about an hour he moves his head again, stares now, at the people around him, he looks at his wires, wonders why he can’t feel this part of his body.

I touch one of the tubes and a resentful sensation makes me pull away and force air through my throat without thinking, the shock makes me lurch back. I want this thing out, but I touch it again and I feel it tear me. 

The person thinking, the person who turned his head, and questions what’s going on. He is made to feel pain, as he becomes free from the rest of humanity he bleeds and yells and screams as the inhuman material is ripped from his body. His neighbors do not show him any love, or any sentiment or acknowledgement of what is going on. But after the tortured he feels the euphoria or freedom of freedom, of not being locked into a machine.

He lies on the floor, arms hugging his legs drawn up to his chest, lungs trying to slow themselves, sweat mixed with blood rolling down his skin, but a smile on his face. He realizes that this is his true body, not the wires and plastic and twisting metal. Brushing the fabric on top of his skin he comes to the conclusion it’s not a true part of him either but it’s not doing any harm. After time, when the effects of the fight for independence have worn off, he beings to slowly get up. Sitting closed legged at fist, then slowly using the desks either side of him, up onto his feet. Blood still tickles from some of the sockets in his skin, and beginning to use muscles that don’t know what they’re doing, he moves forward.

Moving slowly onwards, life feeling like it’s going extremely fast. Right leg, left leg, right leg, left leg something about the repetitiveness reminds the outcast of how his life was. His progress beings to speed and soon he finds that when he looks back he can’t see where he started.

The black void that looms in front of me scares me but then I feel I must embrace it, I know I can’t go back to the old life, if you can call it a life, my fingers ache now as they’ve stopped moving for the first time in a life time, it’s the rest of my bodies turn to feel the burn and the excitement of movement. My right leg seems to drag a little, as I stumble forward it doesn’t seem to know what to do, I force it along and continue making steady progress.

The wall in front of the free man baffles him, his figures touch it and wonder what it is, whether his quest was pointless and he should plug himself back in but he throws that idea to floor to rest with his chains. He simply turns his head and beings walking, with more momentum in his step now, up the wall. The pain coming from all the different parts of his body seems to subside with this newfound determination.

1 hour – Adrenaline

2 hours – Joy of being free re-surfaces

3 hours – The build of happiness peaks

4 hours – The sense of being trapped begins

5 hours – Hope in something unknown – Staring into the unknown, the doorway, unknown to anyone in this world, having never been through one in living memory. He touches it, making it rock slightly on its hinges. He pushes it now, glimpsing a new light, one that seems effortless, not manufactured. Overwhelmed with his discovery he staggers through this doorway, facing him is a stonewall but to his left is the real world.

I look, and challenge my eyes, this part of reality cannot be real, the color, the deep blue and the enormity of the ceiling above me, and the amazing green, not the neon green of the old life, the intense bright of the small lines coming out of the floor. I look up to the bright light in the sky, my eyes flinch away from it, looking down I see how everything looks up to it, the light, the source of everything, the source of joy.

Without thinking our escapee runs back inside, not out of longing for the old life but out of a longing for the new one, and at the idea that everyone should see this. He goes to the nearest person and touches her; she looks up, wondering what the strange feeling is. Our freedom seeker explains with the few words he knows but the number doesn’t like what she hears.

Red turns the white floor into a place of shame; hope is the last thing that drains away, pain continuing everything as it always has been.

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