Surviving The Evacuation (Book 2): Wasteland Read Online Free
Author: Frank Tayell
Tags: Zombies
importantly, my only way out is going to be by pushing my way through those densely interlocked branches. Will the snipers be able to see that at night? There's no cloud in the sky right now. It looks like it will be a clear night. Will they be able to see the rustling of branches above my head? I suppose I'll find out.
16:30, 25 th June.
I think this forced rest is actually good for me. I know that sounds odd, but I have spent so much of the last few weeks worrying over what I should do next, that I haven't really just stopped to think about where I am now.
Not that I plan to make a habit out of this kind of thing, but at the very least I'll make sure I carry more water in my pack. My water bottle was only half full when I first ducked into the maze, now there's barely two inches left. The rest of my supply is in the bag on the bike, and that's by a wall outside the grounds, about half a mile away. I thought it was better to approach on foot, leaving my hands free, less encumbered. You live and learn.
There's about another five hours to go until dark. That's not too bad, I'll be in the shade for most of that. It's hot, but not quite heat-wave hot, though I can tell that's on the cards. Five hours then I'll crawl through the hedges, sneak back to the bike and disappear into the night.
As a rule I don't do much travelling after dark. The undead don't seem to rely on sight as much as the living, but I won't need to go far. There's a ticket booth near the entrance to the safari park, just a few miles down the road, if I can get there, I can climb onto the roof and wait for dawn. Then it's back to the Abbey for supplies, and then, with no more diversion, straight to Lenham Hill.
17:30, 25 th June.
“Look mate, we've got a night sight on this rifle. Make it easy on yourself and just stand up,” a guttural voice called out about an hour ago.
That's the first human voice I've heard in... months, I suppose. Do I believe them? Yes. As to why they want to kill me, I don't know. I tried talking to them. They shot at me. I tried telling them I only wanted supplies. They shot at me. I tried saying I wasn't who they thought I was, whoever that might be. They shot at me.
Each time I tried to say something, they fired. Then I realised what they were doing. They didn't want me to talk. They wanted me to shout. They wanted the undead to come here and finish the job for them, but they were out of luck.
What's the longest you've gone without speaking? All I managed was a throaty rasp, barely intelligible as words even to my own ears. So now I’m silent again, and trying to come up with a new plan.
I could wait until nightfall and hope they were lying about the night sight, but if they were why waste so much ammo? Why do they want me dead? No, those kinds of questions can't be answered from here.
How long did the exchange go on for? I wish I'd checked my watch. Say it was fifteen minutes. Was that too long, did the undead hear us? The rifle might be silenced, but the impacts of the bullets aren't. How long before They come?
It seems I've a choice between heading towards the lake and being shot in the back, or staying put and hoping the undead don't find me. Neither is particularly appealing.
19:00, 25 th June.
Or I could head towards them. Or towards the house, at least. I’m almost positive they are in one of the bedrooms, which means they've got a pretty limited angle of fire. If I can make it to the house, and follow the wall around, I can make a run for the tree-line from either the north side or the west. They won't know which side of the building I’m on until they've picked a bedroom and looked. So I've a fifty-fifty chance they'll pick the wrong one. Or, to put it another way, a fifty-fifty chance that I'll make it to the trees before they shoot me.
Are they good enough to be able to shoot a moving target? One of them probably is. Too many guesses and assumptions. What I do I know?
The only thing I know
16:30, 25 th June.
I think this forced rest is actually good for me. I know that sounds odd, but I have spent so much of the last few weeks worrying over what I should do next, that I haven't really just stopped to think about where I am now.
Not that I plan to make a habit out of this kind of thing, but at the very least I'll make sure I carry more water in my pack. My water bottle was only half full when I first ducked into the maze, now there's barely two inches left. The rest of my supply is in the bag on the bike, and that's by a wall outside the grounds, about half a mile away. I thought it was better to approach on foot, leaving my hands free, less encumbered. You live and learn.
There's about another five hours to go until dark. That's not too bad, I'll be in the shade for most of that. It's hot, but not quite heat-wave hot, though I can tell that's on the cards. Five hours then I'll crawl through the hedges, sneak back to the bike and disappear into the night.
As a rule I don't do much travelling after dark. The undead don't seem to rely on sight as much as the living, but I won't need to go far. There's a ticket booth near the entrance to the safari park, just a few miles down the road, if I can get there, I can climb onto the roof and wait for dawn. Then it's back to the Abbey for supplies, and then, with no more diversion, straight to Lenham Hill.
17:30, 25 th June.
“Look mate, we've got a night sight on this rifle. Make it easy on yourself and just stand up,” a guttural voice called out about an hour ago.
That's the first human voice I've heard in... months, I suppose. Do I believe them? Yes. As to why they want to kill me, I don't know. I tried talking to them. They shot at me. I tried telling them I only wanted supplies. They shot at me. I tried saying I wasn't who they thought I was, whoever that might be. They shot at me.
Each time I tried to say something, they fired. Then I realised what they were doing. They didn't want me to talk. They wanted me to shout. They wanted the undead to come here and finish the job for them, but they were out of luck.
What's the longest you've gone without speaking? All I managed was a throaty rasp, barely intelligible as words even to my own ears. So now I’m silent again, and trying to come up with a new plan.
I could wait until nightfall and hope they were lying about the night sight, but if they were why waste so much ammo? Why do they want me dead? No, those kinds of questions can't be answered from here.
How long did the exchange go on for? I wish I'd checked my watch. Say it was fifteen minutes. Was that too long, did the undead hear us? The rifle might be silenced, but the impacts of the bullets aren't. How long before They come?
It seems I've a choice between heading towards the lake and being shot in the back, or staying put and hoping the undead don't find me. Neither is particularly appealing.
19:00, 25 th June.
Or I could head towards them. Or towards the house, at least. I’m almost positive they are in one of the bedrooms, which means they've got a pretty limited angle of fire. If I can make it to the house, and follow the wall around, I can make a run for the tree-line from either the north side or the west. They won't know which side of the building I’m on until they've picked a bedroom and looked. So I've a fifty-fifty chance they'll pick the wrong one. Or, to put it another way, a fifty-fifty chance that I'll make it to the trees before they shoot me.
Are they good enough to be able to shoot a moving target? One of them probably is. Too many guesses and assumptions. What I do I know?
The only thing I know
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