Read Blog of the Dead (Book 1): Sophie for Free Online Page A

in his element with such service. I can imagine him now, answering the door, joint in hand, ‘Hey, good to see you, Munchies Dude! Um, like, totally awesome, brah. What? No M&M’s, that sucks dude’. Ok, I may be overdoing the Californian surfer dude thing a bit (seeing as he wasn’t from California, or a surfer, or even much of a dude), but … it’s only been two weeks and I’m already forgetting Richard’s voice. How long will it be before I forget how my parents and Jake speak. But they’re ok. Remember, they are ok. But Richard … The last thing I heard come out of his mouth was a whining groan that I took to mean, ‘Dude, it’d be awesome if I could just, like, totally eat your brain.’
     
    November 30
9.30am Day 17
We’re going out again today …
     
     

December
     
    December 1
11.20am Day 18
We set off after breakfast yesterday. I was fucked if I was going to climb over all those bloody fences again. So, all tooled up, we headed out the front door like a trio of zombie killing machines. Admittedly, a lot of the zombies had wandered off, leaving only four directly outside our house, but, still, I’m proud of our can do attitude.
    I took on a mouldy looking zombie that looked like it used to be a middle aged woman with short spiky hair. Its lips had rotted away completely, leaving it with a permanent toothy grin, and yellow puss dribbled down its chin. I had a nine inch kitchen knife in one hand and a claw hammer in the other. I did a quick mental scan to decide which would do the better job, opted for the claw hammer, and whacked the disgusting thing in the head, angry at it just for being so fucking ugly and messed up.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sam bludgeoning a zombie with a hammer, while Polly used her updated curtain-pole-with-knife-attachment weapon (she’d switched the four inch knife for a deadlier eight inch) to stab a hunched up old lady zombie through the head. Just one more zombie outside the house. I let Polly take it; she looked to be having fun – worryingly. This one, male with its guts hanging out and half its face missing, she took out with her claw hammer.
    We were off. If the zombies we encountered on the way had had any sense (which of course they didn’t) they would have done a runner (again, impossible for a slow, decomposing zombie) at the sight of the three crazed and tooled up humans, covered in black putrid blood. I felt infallible. Perhaps a dangerous way to feel in such a risky situation. But without that touch of madness pervading me, I don’t think I could have gone out there again.
    We left a trail of rancid bodies in our wake along Warren Road and Tram Road. Down Tram Road, the zombie workmen rattled the fence like monkeys at the zoo. You know, one of them would have been really cute before he died and started rotting. Is it wrong to fancy a zombie? Hmmmmm. I’m thinking it probably is. Yeah.
     
    12.20pm Day 18
At Tontine Street I hesitated. I hated the thought of Laura slowly rotting away inside the UCF building. But I could do nothing. We headed up the Old High Street. Nearly half way up, I heard a banging noise. Then, as we passed The Tattoo Shop, I saw the zombie of a heavily tattooed guy inside. He stood at the door banging a tattoo gun on the glass. He snarled at us when he saw us, his banging intensifying. The tattooed zombie looked to be in quite good shape … ok, I know he was dead, but other than looking gaunt with wild buggy eyes, he didn’t have any obvious injuries other than a small bite out of a dragon on his forearm. He had blood around his mouth, though. Lots of it.
    When we arrived in town, we weren’t prepared for what we saw. The place had been trashed. In Rendezvous Street, Googies’ and Djangos’ windows had been smashed in, and tables and chairs had been upturned both inside and out. A broken guitar lay half in and half out of one of Googies’ windows. The Cath Kidston bags had been looted from Moda’s smashed