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help. That was until they noticed us, a good ten or fifteen seconds after the sound of my Polo braking had sliced through the silence of the carnage like an owl’s call on a still night.
     
    Running Shorts, just when he was starting to make progress, although by now the dead guy’s shoulder was severely dislocated, raised his head slowly and looked at us with those empty eyes, and made a sound between groaning and growling. Miniskirt, Mullet and their friends all turned towards us in unison and I could hear Mrs. Myburg’s breathing rapidly speeding up, as I am sure mine was. As they arduously got to their feet, I ground the gears into reverse and sped into a gravel driveway, the wheels spinning as I slammed on the brakes again and shifted into first. I heard a howl to my left and a scratching from behind as Mullet, probably the fittest looking of the lot, managed to grab hold of the back windscreen wiper. I thrust my foot down as if my life depended on it (and maybe it did), and we were off. I glanced in my rear view mirror as we sped away from Terrace Road, and saw Mullet, through a cloud of dust, clutching to my windscreen wiper as his friends hovered around, unsure of whether to go back to Dead Man in the car or chase us.
     
    So, to cut a long story short, we, after a couple of dead ends and U-turns, managed to get to Mrs. Myburg’s sister-in-law’s place. Phyllis, and her husband Colin, kindly invited me to take shelter in their home while “this passed” – their words – but although a secure little village and a house with pretty high walls was tempting, I had to refuse. I don’t know why.
     
    Although I took the same route home which eventually got me to Phyllis and Colin, I was met with a totally different picture – cars everywhere. Terrace Road, which I had eventually crossed further down from Pallister, was reminiscent of Rivonia Road at 8am on a Monday morning. I managed to force my way back across, and although people were shouting at me from all angles to; “Follow us – we’re getting the fuck out of here,” I just felt like a sitting duck out there in the open with no place to go if one of those things decided to attack. So I got back from my escape, the complex still as silent and as eerie as a graveyard – and, luckily, no sign of Walter. I parked my car right at the bottom of the steps up to my place, quickly grabbed the remaining tools which the garden service had discarded – a rake, a fork, a roll up hose and the spade which I had chucked onto my back seat, and went inside and cracked open a beer. Then another. And another. Luckily (I suppose), I only had three left in my fridge or else I would have carried on drinking.
     
    I locked the front door and then the balcony door, and double and triple checked the front door and balcony door, shut all the windows and pushed the couch up against the front door just in case. I then sat down and tried to comprehend and process what I had seen today. I must have done that for a few hours, because when I snapped out of my silent daze I was sitting in complete darkness. I looked for something to eat, settling on a peanut butter sandwich – I didn’t want to whip together anything that would make a noise – and got onto my computer to write this blog. It’s now past one, and although I don’t feel tired I know I need to try and get some sleep. If I can.
     
    Take care
    Sam W
     
    9:21am, May 7
    Hey, Sam here. Hope that you and your loved ones are safe. Me? I still can’t get hold of either Lil or my folks, either on their cells or the landlines. Funnily enough, I can’t seem to get anyone on their landlines, and that includes the police and local hospitals. Yesterday that’s what I did. After waking at about 11 – I must have tossed and turned until just after dawn – I tried to figure out what was going on.
     
    Local authorities? You gotta be kidding. Landlines all engaged or just dead. Toll free numbers not operating. I did hear a