Zom-B City Read Free Page B

streets are flooded.
    There are bloodstains everywhere and lots of dried pools of vomit. The reviveds might not be as mentally clued-up as I am, but it looks like they figured out the vomiting part easily enough. I guess even the mostly senseless dead get a shiver at the notion of playing host to a brood of worms, maggots and the like.
    The stench isn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but it’s fairly gross all the same, especially since my nose is more sensitive than it once was.
    Birds, rats and insects are feasting on the vomit, blood and rotting flesh. They’re enjoying the run of the city now that the zombies have withdrawn for the day. The more alert creatures scatter as soon as they spot me, the birds taking to the air, the rats vanishing down the nearest hole. Only the insects ignore me and go about their business uninterrupted.
    The electricity supply varies from street to street. In some it’s been cut off and every house is dead. In others it’s as strong as ever, lights are on, static crackles from radios, TV sets flicker in shop windows. I consider checking the channels, to find out if anyone is alive and broadcasting, but I can do that later. I want to continue exploring on foot first, not waste the tranquillity of the daylight. I can channel-surf tonight when the zombies come out in force and I hole up.
    I come to a butcher’s shop, pause and stick my head inside. Slabs of dried-out meat lie rotting everywhere. A few scavenging flies crawl across the withered cuts, searching for bits that are still edible, but I think they’ll struggle.
    A pig’s carcass hangs upside down from a hook. Its head has been clawed open. I stare at it thoughtfully. I’m guessing that a zombie ripped out the brain, which maybe means we can thrive on animal brains too. I thought only human brains would keep us going, but it’s good news if we can absorb nutrients from animals as well — I’d much rather scoop clean the inside of a pig’s head than a human’s.
    This might be why I haven’t seen any larger creatures. With humanity out of the way, wild dogs and cats should have the run of the streets. But so far I’ve seen nothing but rats, birds and smaller specimens. Maybe the zombies killed and ate the brains of larger animals, and all of London’s pets have either been butchered or scared off.
    I’ll have to swing by London Zoo at some point. It’s probably been cleaned out already – or the animals will most likely have died of starvation – but maybe I’ll be able to gain access to areas off-limits to normal zombies. The good thing about having a working brain is that you can read maps and search for keys to unlock doors, simple tasks which are beyond most of the undead.
    As I turn away from the pig, I notice a small red z painted on the frame of the door, a tiny arrow just beneath it. I frown, trying to remember where I’ve seen something like that before. Then I recall Mr Dowling daubing my cheek with a mark just like this one.
    I glance around nervously. Have the clown and his mutants been here? Might they be watching me now? Mr Dowling freaked me out big time, especially when he opened his lips and dropped a stream of living spiders over me. I don’t want to hang around and risk another run-in with him.
    Hurrying from the shop, I come to a set of traffic lights. The electricity is working here and the lights are operating as normal. The red man is illuminated and I automatically stop, waiting for the light to change to green.
    After a few seconds, I squint at the light, look left, then right. Nothing moves.
    ‘Of course not,’ I grimace. ‘There’s no traffic because everyone’s dead. You’re a bloody moron, B.’
    I chuckle at my stupidity. Stopping for a traffic light in a city of the dead! I’m glad none of my friends lived to see that. Ignoring the red light, I step out into the road. I’m not far from my old neighbourhood. Another hour, maybe a bit more, and I’ll be back on –
    An engine