to be the last of the men

I’m used to the smell of rotting flesh now, any other smell would be unsettling.
Things that at one point I thought would haunt me, I now can’t imagine life without.

Of cause its scary at first, seeing the world as you know it being torn down by these ‘undead’ monsters but worse, seeing the people you love turn on each other, you watch your entire circle of friends and family literally die in front of you, but you don’t have time to step back and mourn because you can never, ever let your guard down.

Even now, when everything seems quiet and it is pitch black you never know what’s creeping in the shadows.

I don’t stay with the others, we’re all settled by embankment, a few have set up camp in Westminster Abbey, I guess the heavy doors and wood panels make them feel safe, we have people in a pod on the London eye keeping watch, but me. I broke into the aquarium, it was one of the only places, which hadn’t already been looted or vandalized, and I’m happy. It’s my own little piece of heaven. Most the fish have died; The bigger fish are eating the dead little fish and I wonder, has the plague hit them too, or are they happily still swimming around like nothing has changed?

The days are long and boring, what is there to do without the home comforts we are used too? Even things such as a flushing toilet are a thing of the past to us all now. I’ve taken to driving around on a motorbike; I stole some leathers and a helmet, they work well at keeping the biters off, leather is awful thick for them to get through.

Some nights we do nothing but fall straight asleep, I like to stay up and write letters to the people I used to know, to the world I used to know. But sometimes we’ll feel optimistic and we’ll have a huge bonfire of corpses and we’ll go a few miles outside of town and steal some spirits and it’ll be like the ultimate summer party and we’ll laugh and swap stories and slowly partner off for another night of heavy breathing and the friction of worn out skin. And it would all be normal, and if the situations were different these would be the best days of our lives.

But these aren’t the best days of our lives, these are not the memories we’ll look back on and laugh, this is just us trying to survive and forget what has really happened. But this isn’t going to be forgotten, and in years to come, this will be written in the history books for everyone to learn about, and we’ll be known forever.