Don't be mad, people. The tosser lives and the UK is destroyed. I'm so morbid, I know.


David watched the world burn.

He was the only one left out of his group. The others had perished long ago and somehow, he had made it. Survived. Sixteen hours ago, he had been in a committed yet tempestuous relationship. Sixteen hours ago, he had fuelled burning hate for Shaun and Ed. Sixteen hours ago, he had woken up to the sound of the living dead clawing at the perimeter of the block of flats they resided at.

He should have stayed back at the flat. It would have been safe there. Zombies can't climb apartment blocks.

The way his companions had gone, was too much for him to handle. Hence the vomit on his shirt. Shaun had been torn apart outside of the pub, presumably dying after he had run off to draw the zombies away. David had found his remains down an alleyway, limbs scattered across the gravel. He hated Shaun, but the man did not deserve to die like that. Ed, on the other hand…

Shaun's Mother had been put down by Ed. David considered the woman a liability, she was useless against the living dead and had concealed her bite wound from all of them. Only when she had turned and lunged at Diane, did they realise what she had become. He had attempted to put her down himself with the rifle above the bar, but his aim was off and a bullet had marked the top of the emergency exit. It had been left up to Ed to end Barbara's misery, and shooting her in the head had left him distraught with grief. Alas, even killing his best friend's mother had not shut the waste of space up.

There were now four of them left. Until his girlfriend Diane had been dragged out of the pub window, screeching for help. Ed and Liz held onto her legs until they were literally only holding onto her legs and David watched his first ever love be torn to shreds, the joyous light fading from her eyes as the zombies delved into her flesh. He had crouched down behind the bar, knocking his glasses askew to wipe the steady stream of tears away. Liz had cradled her friend's legs, wondering when Shaun would be back as Ed guarded the other window, the zombies at the smashed one too busy devouring Diane.


The outburst echoed in his mind as he walked on and on, past fleeing people, past the living dead. Ed had said those things, true, but he was dead, so none of his words were correct. None of his past statements were true. He had high tailed it out of the pub, waiting for the zombies to be occupied with eating Ed and Liz, before scurrying past. The burning Molotov in Ed's hands dropped as the zombie ripped a chunk out of his neck. His love's screams and pleas for him to help did not deter David. He loved Liz, but not enough for him to sacrifice himself. She was dead anyway, so what was the point?

He watched from afar as the pub burned to the ground, masses of zombies drawn to the area like flies to shit. The melting flesh of both living and dead saturated the air, and David turned away, heart skipping a beat. One of his lenses were missing, his clothes half shredded and bloody and his eyes were rimmed red from crying, but he was alive. Alive.

Walking out of London and into the countryside, David hid when necessary, but mostly he was ignored by the living dead. He deduced that the blood and guts, masking the vomit, were enough to draw attention away from himself. He was in a daze, walking mindlessly. Not caring to stop to help a cowering family trapped in their car, dozens of zombies scratching and clawing at the doors and windows. He later heard their screams taper off half a mile away from the nightmarish scene.

David found an abandoned bicycle, it was far too small, but it would do. Settling himself onto the saddle, he cycled off further down the country lanes, wishing he had Diane's beanie in his hand to run his fingers over. He always did like the softness of her beanie.

Keep cycling until you physically can't do anymore. Find a safe shelter.

Thirty three hours after he first woke up to the rise of the living dead, David hunkered down in the nuclear bunker that had been used in World War II to avoid the bombings. He had stumbled across the security guard who was guarding the bunker, and after fighting him to gain access, had left him to the mercy of the zombies and closed himself off in the bunker. A broadcast had been sent around London for any remaining survivors to head to the bunker, as it could fit hundreds and hundreds of people. But to David, who curled up on a bench and watched the newly installed flat screen TV fixed high up on the wall, he thought it was ludicrous. The zombies would still be there when they emerged from the bunker. Whenever that would be.

No one could live in the bunker forever.

He soon found out why. Twenty minutes after the broadcast, London burned to the ground. A missile to wipe out all of the zombies had been launched. It hit London, and as David watched the city he lived in perish, the screen switched to show other places in the UK being destroyed. After the UK, it was the rest of Europe, America, Africa… It went on and on. Until everywhere was eradicated.

Alone in the bunker, he sat up slowly and blinked.

David watched the world burn.