Index

https://www.reddit.com/u/maizematt/s/CuBIzfLEPW

Day 1 if you missed it and this is the first youve heard of the series.

https://www.reddit.com/r/28dayslater/s/dZxSxP1an5

Day 18

Dark forces moved across the kingdom, covered by the shadow of the night.

Two black hawk helicopters flew low and fast over the land below. They would not stop to aid those poor souls who lit signal fires, fired flares or just shouted to the sky. They were here for one purpose. To make safe the UK's array of Nuclear reactors. Almost all modern reactors had built in safety features, to prevent meltdowns and potential escape of deadly radioactive material.

All reactors in the UK had initiated a safe shut down, all except one.

Containment was their mission, containment and to buy time until the infection burned itself out or until a cure was found.

Dungeness B is a twin-reactor Advanced Gas-cooled Reactor (AGR) nuclear power station on the Kent coast. The control rods which would stop the nuclear reaction in its tracks had not been deployed. The automatic systems, remote access and back ups had failed. A team had to be deployed on the ground, the plan was simple. Get in, diagnose why the control rods had not deployed, make necessary repairs and extract.

Were it so easy… The Black hawks circled above, overlooking the darkened building and reactor complex. Soldiers tensed and prepared as the helicopters descended. "We can't risk landing, you'll have to rope down," the pilots relayed through the radio. “Copy that Razor's Edge’’.

One by one the Deltas deployed, finally being followed by the scientists and engineers. They had to move fast, in their briefing it was mentioned that the sound of the helicopters would likely attract the attention of local infected. Standing orders were to shoot on site, whether they be infected or not.

Two by two they came, moving through doors and darkened hallways. The auxiliary power could be brought online using the back up generators, this would bring parts of the facility back online. ‘Take the next left’ the scientist whispered. As one with fluid grace, the team moved.

‘Its Locked’ the front man called, they had reached the generator control room. ‘It's not locked, it's been blocked on the other side, kick it in’. The team leader demanded.

‘Hello? Is someone out there?’ The team paused in their tracks, listening to the voice beyond the door. ‘I can hear you talking, who's out there? Are you part of the rescue team?”

‘There's a survivor in there’ the scientist remarked. The team leader of the squad stepped forward and spoke in a clear monotone voice.

‘Yes, we are part of the rescue team. Open the door’

Silence fell across the would be invaders as they listened to the barricade be taken apart, one item at a time.

The door clicked and a man wearing a Hi Vis jumpsuit stepped out. ‘I'm glad to see you, I thought I…’

A silenced round pieced the man's skull before he could finish. ‘Christ, he wasn't infected’ the engineer called out. His disgust hanging in the air.

The team leader dismissed his distaste and ordered him to ‘Get the power online’. The man then looked to his men, ‘Team two with me, everyone else stay here’ he pulled the scientist with him as they continued further into the facility. The team leader held up his hand and as one their group split in half, half staying with the engineer and the rest moving to the control room.

The hallways and stairs were endless, littered with paper and discarded items. The power station was fully manned when the infection made it beyond the fence line. British engineers had made a valiant attempt at keeping the power running even as the infection surged through the halls.

‘End of the hall, on the right hand side that's the control room’ The scientist called from the middle of the pack, a wall of silenced SMG's surrounded him. However, it did nothing to calm his nerves or silence his instincts to flee this accursed land.

As they reached the vast array of control consoles, display screens and strange display symbols the soldiers did not understand, the lights came on. Slowly the dull buzzing of electricity, monitors and computers filled the air. ‘I need a minute to take some readings and find out why the rods haven't deployed’.

‘Get on with it’ The team leader turned and walked to the window. ‘Team one this is reaper 6 actual, move to our position over’

*Contact, contact!* The radios blared out. "We have contacts, say again infected inside the building!’. Distant gunfire echoed down the halls, fear gripped the men.

‘Team one report’ The now nervous man held his radio close, listening for a reply but none would come. He turned to the scientist and murmured ‘Move this along, we will have company here soon and I'd prefer not to be here when they arrive’.

Minutes passed, the anticipation of battle in the air would have broken other men but these were battle hardened warriors. Their nerves hammered steel.

‘Got it, rods are moving’ the scientist moved to another screen, showing the rods slowly descending.

‘Thats our que gentlemen, head to the evac point’ The captain held a finger to his ear and called out a final time. ‘Team one, objective complete. Head to evac point Alpha’.

The men made a hasty retreat, back through the building, heading out towards the pick up point. Parts of the facility glowed in artificial light as the diesel generators burnt the last of their reserves.

“Razor's edge, Razor's edge. This is reaper 6 actual, return for extraction. Mission complete, I say again mission complete”.

No reply would come on the radio and there would be no return of the helicopters. The military quarantine of the Kingdom was complete. No one out.

John

John walked around the ground floor aimlessly during the night, while Ember and Roxy slept in the sittingroom. John wondered what was happening to the rest of the world, wondered if the Americans could stop the outbreak in their own country and if help would ever come to this country. Surely the world would rally together and find a cure. John knelt before the front door and looked out to the twilight dawn overshadowing the driveway. We just have to survive until help arrives.

Moments later, John returned to the sittingroom, deciding to spend the rest of his watch in the comfy chair in the corner. When he noticed a small figure by the display cabinet. John grew fearful for a moment but with great relief, realised it was Roxy. She was holding one of the family photos Ember had held earlier and she examined it closely.

Roxy turned, looking John in the eyes. They weren't the traumatised eyes of someone who had seen too much. They were the eyes of a child, scared and alone. Wanting their parents and the safety that entailed. She sniffed, placed the photo exactly where she found it. Straightening it so the display was unaltered, it would stand as a memorial to those above.

*Knock Knock*

Roxy moved faster than John thought possible, as she moved back to where Ember now stood. John looked to the front door with horror, someone… something had knocked. It wasn't his imagination, they all heard it.

Ember pulled out a kitchen knife, ushering Roxy to stand behind her and John slowly raised his bat. The silence was broken by the sound of a further three knocks. Not infected he thought, the infected don't knock in patterns. They'd be trying to rip their way through the doors and windows. If they were out there.

John looked at Ember, her face slowly appearing thanks to the dawn light leaking through the top of the curtains. She shook her head as he pointed his bat at the door. John understood what she meant, they don't know who is out there or what they want. It's likely they will draw the attention of the infected or John swallowed. They could be here for more sinister reasons, he thought of the car, the life line it has extended to them and grimaced. A working car was worth its weight in gold.

The letter box opened, John jumped to the side hiding from view as Roxy and Ember ducked behind the sofa.

“Don't make us kick the door in” A harsh voice called. ‘This will all go easier, if you just let us in’. John moved to the window, risking it all to take a peak outside. Four men stood in the driveway, two by their car and the other two near the doorway. The four men wore matching grey sweatpants, blue T shirts and grey jumpers.

Ember moved next to John and nudged him to move aside. She looked out for a moment then quickly moved back to the holdall set aside with their meager belongings. “What is it?” John asked, as Ember increased her frantic search. “They're prisoners, I've seen that clothing before” Ember pulled out the handgun, the memory of the young soldier flashed momentarily in her mind before she turned to John and handed him the handgun.

*I don't keep it loaded, son. You'll have to find ammo as you go.*

“You have to talk to them, tell them to leave or else you'll shoot them” Embers' quiet voice came out frantic and rushed. “What?” John wondered what the hell he would say, he'd never been a threatening guy, hell he'd never even had a fight in his life. John hesitated looking to the front door then to Ember's now steeled eyes. “John, you cannot let them in here” Ember looked for just a moment to Roxy. He understood.

“I'm going to count to three” The man outside boomed, his voice far too loud for the world they lived in. “I'm here” was all John could think to say. He coughed and again repeated “I'm here, what do you want?”

“Finally, some fucking common courtesy. It's rude to ignore guests at your front door and ruder still to not invite us in”. A moment passed before the man continued.

“Are you going to leave us out here in the cold or are you going to OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”. John took a step back, his hand shaking. He glanced to his side, seeing Ember and Roxy backing up against the wall.

“What do you want?” John replied, adding a deeper tone to his voice and fighting with all his might to stop it from cracking from fear. “Ah, an intellectual like myself I see, well Boy” The man beyond the door exaggerated the word boy, adding a sting to it John didn't appreciate. “I want you to open this door, invite us inside and we can work out the rest”.

“I'm not opening this door, there are other houses up the road” John examined the pistol, racking his mind for every action film he'd ever seen. Trying to find the right words to say, words to drive them away. “I have a gun”. Out of every catch phrase and threat that crossed his mind out of the depths of those 80's action films. That was the best he could come up with.

“Oh do you, Boy?” John heard the man step closer to the door. “Well, thats awfully fucking convenient isnt it?”. A moment passed before a boot hit the door.

Negotiations have broken down.

John watched in horror as the door shuddered on its hinges, the wood seeming to bend with every kick. He looked to Ember, who now stood with their holdall on her shoulder. Roxy holding tight to her leg. Ember whispered “we go out the back and run”. John knew if they ran now, the men outside or worse would catch them. They needed to get to the car, it was the only viable escape route. The noise would draw the infected, that was certain.

John took a breath before doing something Ember would certainly kick his arse for later. He opened the door.

The door swung wide and before the men outside could react. John fired the pistol, a single round barreled out, missing the four men and hitting the workshop across the driveway. Time seemed to stand still as they all stood staring at each other.

‘Get fucking back” John growled. The men retreated, as John pointed the weapon at each of them in turn. “Away from the car” one of the men stood nearer to the car than the others and smiled. ‘I said fucking move!’. His smile faded as he walked backwards with the others. Their arms raised to their chests. Ember moved quickly past John, carrying Roxy to the car. The men whistled as Ember moved past, she refused to look their way, refused to have anything distract her away from the only thing that mattered. Escape.

John slowly walked around the back of the car, Ember already inside leaned over and opened his passenger side door. The engine spluttered to life. “Don't follow us,” John announced. His eyes meet them each in turn.

“We'll find you again Boy, worlds a small place now and…” the man stopped mid sentence and as one the men turned and ran towards the house. John's eyes followed them for a moment until Ember's voice broke his trance she shouted “John get in!”.

The infected had come, two men and a woman, their clothes torn and bloody. They sprinted through the now open gate, murderous intent on their faces. The two male infected followed the four would-be raiders towards the house, the last man of their group being closed outside the front door. His pleas of ‘Let me in’ soon be cut short. The woman had eyes only for John. He quickly ducked inside the car as she reached towards him. Her full sprint took the windmirror off as she crashed into the now moving vehicle. Pulling out the gates, John counted dozens, fucking dozens of infected. All sprinting towards them and to the house behind.

They had all been drawn by the gunshot, an unintentional invitation to all nearby infected. The engine groaned as Ember aggressively pressed it for more power, more speed to escape. From over the hills and far away they came. More and more blood soaked bodies, their red eyes searching. “Fuck me”, John shouted as a old man collided with the passenger side window, heedless and uncaring of the damage caused to himself. A disgusting red trail of blood left in the man's wake.

“Hold on!” Ember shouted as they drove. John noted the sign *Welcome to Hannington, please drive carefully*. Shit John thought, the entire village heard the gunfire and had come straight for them. If the local parish council witnessed Embers *Careful* driving through their village. They would have called for an immediate meeting, the Guildford three roared through the narrow lanes as they made their escape.

Deep in the hills near Rhayader - North Wales

Their farm was miles away from anyone, it was said Cadiff could be nuked and they wouldn't have heard about it for years. But they all had heard of the infection. The farm originally had a staff of twelve, now reduced to two. Eira and her Grandfather. Since the outbreak, her list of daily chores only got longer and longer. As more of the farm workers left to be with their families.

Eira started her daily chores by making her grandfather breakfast, the electricity shutting off had little effect on them other than the loss of creature comforts. They owned a wood stove, wood furnace for hot water which was drawn up from a well. They were as self-sufficient as one could be.

After breakfast, she tended to the yard animals, the goats knocking into her with mischievous intent as she walked towards the chicken coup.

Eira missed the farm hands, her friends. She considered them all family, it would be harvest season soon but she figured most of it would be left in the fields. She would pick what she could, storing it away like her grandfather had taught her.

‘During the war’ he would say, as he taught her how to store food long term. She would live off the land, they both would.

Eira sat among the goats after completing some of her growing list and watched the low flying jet glide across the hills. She waved as it went directly over her and into the lands beyond.

Tangley church

John

John and Ember drove for hours, winding country roads and green fields their only company. They found the infected lingered near towns and villages. Generally staying in the area they were originally infected in, as if a faint memory of who they used to be remained. This was the case, unless they found an unfortunate soul to infect.

“We need to stop” John hated the words as they left his mouth but they couldn't risk driving at night. The headlights would become beacons to the infected, drawing them like moths to a flame.

John spotted the spire of a small church and signalled Ember to pull over. “You can't be serious” Ember eyed the church and gave John a sideways glare. Roxy peered over the backseat to see why they stopped and even she gave John a look that spelled *Really?*.

“Or we could try that house, next to the church” Ember pointed out. “It's certainly less creepy,” John mused. “I guess it's my turn to knock again huh”.

“I drive, you knock” Ember touched his arm before he stepped out “Be careful”. John looked back to find even Roxy's eyes filled with concern. John's throat felt tight as he took the pair of them in. The past few days of traumatic events had forged a bond between the three of them.

“Keep the engine running” John stepped out, donned the snorkel and lowered his goggles. In an act of Déjà vu, he approached the front door, this time opting to look through the letterbox first while knocking. The home was clear, the door unlocked. He stepped inside and called out “Anyone here?” After a few seconds of silence, he decided the home was clear. John put his thumb up to Ember, signalling it was clear and that he was going inside.

A priest obviously lived here he thought, it smelt like a priory and had that old church feel to it. The furniture was bare basic and dated, very dated. The house was huge, at least 6 bedrooms and a large downstairs living area.

Once John was certain the house was clear, he walked back outside and back to the car. “Its clear, the place is huge. I think I can take down part of that fence and you can reverse the car right up to the house. At least it'll hide the car from view. Over the next 30 minutes, Ember and John worked to dismantle a section of fence. After which they reversed the car into the front garden. They loosely placed the fence back, ensuring it could be easily moved in case they needed to leave.

As the sun set, they decided to set up camp in the downstairs bedroom. Ember and Roxy took the small double bed in the corner and John the old sofa. The old building had wooden shutters on the inside, probably left in place as decoration of a bygone era. They closed them all, wrapping the home in eerie darkness. Neither of them spoke about who would go first on watch. The three of them had barely slept for days and this ancient sanctuary felt safe enough.

Jennifer

Jennifer slipped out of the bed, careful not to wake Ember as she crawled to the edge. John's snoring regularly woke her, it was unfamiliar and alien to her ears. She tip-toed to the door and quietly slipped out into the dark house beyond. This wasn't the first time she had explored at night, John had caught her this morning before the monsters came.

Jennifer did not fear the dark, not anymore she only feared the monsters. The ones with red eyes, they had taken her mother and father.

Jennifer followed a faint glow of moonlight, its beam leaking through one of the wooden shutters. She climbed onto a chair and looked out the window through the hole. The garden beyond was dark, dimly lit by the moon. Then Jennifer saw them. A dark figure moved through the bushes, they wore all black. Jennifer thought it was a monster but then it stopped. It stood by their car for a few short moments, examining every detail.

The figure then turned and walked unconcerned into the naked night.

Jennifer crept back into bed with Ember. The woman wasn't her mother and did not pretend to be. She had saved Jennifer that day on the London underground. Ember had taken her with her when she had every right to abandon Jennifer.

She looked to John, he had sheltered them, protected them and also had every right to abandon them both. He wasn't her father, her father was brave and strong. John was… well he was John.

Jennifer held her Teddy Roxy close, it still faintly smelt like her mother.

https://buymeacoffee.com/maizematt

I just wanted to say thank you for your kind words on my last post. Its bringing light to a very dark time in my life. I hope you enjoy this one.

Thank you

Edit, I just looked at my Buy me a coffee page after a spam of emails. Thank you, its much appreciated. I'll hold my hands up and say i cried when I saw the comments. Thank you it means so much

Index

https://www.reddit.com/u/maizematt/s/CuBIzfLEPW

Day 1 if you missed it and this is the first youve heard of the series.

https://www.reddit.com/r/28dayslater/s/dZxSxP1an5

Day 17

He had slept in, John woke up on his hallway floor alone, his front door was wide open and a breeze flowed through. Ember had left, John searched his flat and found she had taken the keys, Roxy and all of John's supplies. He ran his fingers through his hair, panicking and hyperventilating.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck’ he was descending into a meltdown he would not recover from. John kicked an empty tin can out of frustration and froze. The can impacted the wall with a mighty crack. The sound was like a beacon, here I am, come get me.

The doors downstairs exploded open, John's instinct screamed at him and he ran to his front door, trying desperately to close it. But it wouldn't budge. John screamed as he pulled and pulled, the door seemed anchored open.

Slow footsteps approached up the stairs, revealing a blood drenched figure his head coated in red. His crimson eyes locked onto John as he marched up the stairs. He couldn't move, he was paralysed, glued to the spot by a mysterious force as the man he killed slowly moved towards him. His mouth open, blood flowed out in awful chunks as he seemed to be trying to form a word.

John's eyes opened, he was laid on the floor of his hallway, a blanket had been thrown over him and a pillow placed under his head. The front door was closed and sealed. The flat was in relative darkness from the curtains being pulled tight. He had to stand up, he had to confirm this was real and not another dream.

As he stood, he touched items at random and placed his hand on the wall to steady his shaking legs. Grounding, he was trying to ground himself. This is real he thought, this is real.

‘Morning’ a quiet voice called from the corner. Ember sat with her back to the wall, Roxy's head nestled on a pillow on her lap. ‘Morning’ he repeated. ‘Shit, sorry i think i slept through my watch’

‘Its okay, I fell asleep too. Think I've been awake for over an hour or so’ Roxy stirred in her lap, the muffled noise pulling her from her sleep.

‘You ready for this?’ Ember asked, meeting his eyes with her own. Green John noted, her eyes were green. ‘Yeah, I'll just pack a few bits and we can head out’. Ember nodded

He walked into his bedroom, suddenly feeling like this would be the last time he was ever here. What would he take, what would leave, he thought. They needed room to carry as much food and water as possible. They didn't have time to load up the car with his belongi

ngs. The infected wouldn't stand aside and wait for him to finish packing.

He grabbed his old holdall bag and started to pack. Clothing, their remaining food and water. The radio, tooth brush, tooth paste and bars of soap. ‘This isn't a holiday you idiot, he whispered to himself’. Next he walked into the kitchen, taking knives, forks and spoons. No point taking plates or bowls.

Tea towels, lighters, spare candles and a deck of cards. John picked up his frying pan, he could make it fit in the bag but would they need it he mused. ‘Take the frying pan and a saucepan for boiling water, plus any rags we can boil them… oh you put tea towels in’ Ember had crept into the kitchen, she assessed the contents of the holdall and removed some of the clothes.

“We can't overpack, take the bare essentials only, do you have any spare batteries or torches?’ John nodded, opening his junk draw. Ember walked up beside him and quietly whistled. There were junk draws found in most kitchens but Johns was a rare find. ‘Jesus’ Ember said as she moved the assortment of items around. ‘How the hell do you even close this draw?’.

‘With great effort’ John replied. Much to John's annoyance, he pulled out spare batteries, 2 small penknives and a wind up torch. Immediately placing them on the counter, wondering how he had forgotten to check this draw. Ember moved in next, pulling out a pair of scissors and a sewing kit. ‘Perfect’ she placed the sewing kit into the holdall and walked out of the kitchen with the scissors.

John knew what was coming as soon as he saw his bedroom door close. Moments later, Ember and Roxy emerged wearing some of John's clothes. Now butchered and cut down to size. Both Ember and Roxy stood in a patchwork of his clothes. He noted with horror, that Ember was wearing his favourite Hugo boss shirt. Its sleeves and hem were cut short to fit.

Ember held a fist full of rags, the cut up remains of his favourite shirt. She placed them into a medium sized saucepan and into the holdall. ‘I think that'll do it’ she said. John hoped to god Ember wouldn't cut up anything else he owned. He found himself looking longingly towards his xbox and game collection. There would be no point taking it and it would just be empty weight.

‘So what now?’ He couldn't hide the nervousness from his voice, it was one thing prepping to leave but it was entirely another thing to actually leave. ‘Should we check Arthur's place before we go?’ No Ember replied, ‘there's enough weight in that bag and we need to move fast’.

Cambridge

The streets of Cambridge were quiet, discarded riot shields and batons lay abandoned where they fell. Bodies lined the streets, the infection here had finally started to burn itself out. Few survivors remained, fewer still would live out the coming weeks.

London

The streets of London had been overrun by the infected during the evacuation effort, the street belonged to them now. Any survivors left had wisely sought higher ground, barricading tower blocks with trolleys, furniture and anything they could get hold of. Many fled onto roof tops, watching from above as the infected stalked below.

Hunger and dehydration would soon force survivors to descend from their sanctuaries in search for water. You can go weeks without food and many would. But water, water would force many out of hiding now.

It had not rained in weeks, exacerbating an already dire situation.

Gina lay on her front, carefully looking over the edge of the rooftop, Somerfield stood like an oasis in the heat of the desert sun. Two days, two days she had gone without water. She wanted to cry at the pain in her throat, the harshness of every breath. It was now or never, she knew that by tomorrow morning she would be too weak.

Liverpool

Liverpool Harbour had been heavily bombed during operation Sunset. The smoke still hung heavy in the air two days later, thousands had been incinerated in the firestorm. Both infected and uninfected.

Scotland

The population of Scotland had been thrown to the wolves, some fled to their homes in the Highlands. Hiding away in the endless Glen's. All organised military resistance to the infection had faded away, positions lay abandoned and checkpoints unchecked.

John

John wished he had paid attention to which neighbour owned what car, Ember and John had no idea which car the key would fit. ‘What if it's a spare key for the one they took?’’ John whispered to Ember as they scanned the street.

Ember just looked at John, her eyes portraying the same fears as John. He grimly smiled and looked back to the street outside.

‘It's been clear all morning, I guess this is as good a time as any’ Ember stepped back, Ushering Roxy to put her shoes on. John felt like he had swallowed a lump of iron, it was one thing planning to leave but it was entirely another to finally act on these plans. Part of him still expected the power to switch back on and for a BBC presenter to give the all clear.

But no signal would ever come.

John dressed in his armour, grimacing at the red stains and grime. It covered his knees, sleeves and boots. Ember and Roxy both stared at him in bewilderment, waiting for him to finish *Suiting up*. ‘What?’ He gritted through the snorkel. He could have sworn Roxy smiled, Ember just shook her head.

John unlocked his front door, leant forward and peaked his head out checking right and left. John took a deep breath then finally stepped into the hallway. Ember and Roxy followed close behind, they felt closer than his own shadow.

They stood on the top of the stairs, the door below blocking most of the light casting in from outside. ‘There's one in the bottom floor flat, well at least I think there is’ Ember poked John hard in the back. She didn't need to voice her reply, he knew she would have shouted ‘Now you tell me!’.

Slowly they crept, the three of them taking silent breaths as they inched their way down the stairs. John kept his bat raised, his eyes watching his neighbours door. Scenarios ran through his head continuously, what if the door burst open and an infected came charging out. Where would they go, could they get back into his flat in time? Could he have killed someone else, he had reacted on pure instinct the last time.

None of them spoke as they reached the door leading to the street, for fear of disturbing the dark presence behind door number 4. Ember bent down and picked up Roxy. Nodding to John as he placed his hand on the handle. The door opened with no fan fare, no squeak or sound. John felt there had to be someone looking after him as they stepped out into the street beyond.

Ember poked him, pointing at the first car on the street. The one closest to them, a silver Honda civic. The three of them moved quickly and quietly to the car. John found himself looking in every direction, every alley, door and window. His mind played cruel tricks of faint movement. Ember walked to the driver's side, trying the handle while holding Roxy.

Locked

Ember tried to insert the key into the door lock but to the dread of them this wasn't the car. Next one he nodded, Ember was already moving her pace increasing. They had two options remaining. A Red ford fiesta flight and an awful looking Skoda. They reached the Ford first, Roxy had buried her head into Ember's shoulder, her breaths quiet and steady. John wished he could hide as well, his heat was beating a million miles an hour.

Ember tried the door, the key slipped in and John's heart sang. Then dropped into a black abyss as he saw movement. A man, looking to be in his 40's ran for them. Waving his arms.

‘Don't leave me!’ The man shouted, John felt the words piece the air and their quiet escape shattered. In response he heard crashing and banging. Seemingly from every home, every window and door. ‘Hurry’ he said to Ember as she unlocked the door with an audible mechanical click. Ember opened the driver side door, almost throwing Roxy inside ‘In the back now!’ She called as Roxy climbed through the gap. Scrambling to hide behind the seats.

John hesitated for a moment, looking at the man running down the street. His panicked shouts signalling to all of Guildford the prisoners were attempting a breakout. ‘John get in!’ Ember shouted, her fingers shaking trying to start the car. "We can't just leave hi…’ John's words caught short in his throat as he noticed the wave of rage approaching. It seemed the infected had answered the man's call and were rapidly approaching.

Windows broke around them, bloody forms climbing through, careless of the deadly shredding of their bodies. John looked to his neighbours windows, two. There were two of them, struggling to climb out of the sittingroom window. Their red eyes locked onto him. He debated actually running back to his flat, to his sanctuary but the roar of the pitiful 1.2 Engine snapped him back to the passenger seat.

They both refused to look at the man, who was desperately screaming for help as they started to drive away. He was too far away, he now had dozens of infected chasing him and had nearly doomed their own escape. ‘Please!’ the stranger cried, as he valiant sprint finally gave out. John made the mistake of looking and watched in horror as two figures dragged him to the ground.

Ember floored it through abandoned streets of Guildford, John could have sworn he saw people in the windows of homes, flats and on the roofs. Their desperate pleading eyes, begging him to stop the car, hands and faces pressed flat to the windows before curtains closed blocking them from sight. They couldn't stop, the infected who now owned the streets of Guildford gave chase, thankfully no cars blocked their way as they exited Guildford. Heading West down Broad St, into the green hills and villages beyond.

London

Gina, quietly removed her makeshift barricade away from the fire door, she tried not to think about the begging voices and hands pounding on the door as she moved item after item. It was survival she told herself, survival that had driven her not to help the people who pounded on the door, begging her to let them in. Their desperate cries had turned into awful screams of pain then worst of all. Silence.

Gina held her ear to the door, listening to the stairway beyond. Nothing, there was nothing. She had convinced herself it wasn't selfish what she did, sealing herself on the roof and refusing to let anyone else up with her. But their screams haunted her every waking moment.

Gingerly she opened the fire door, the smell of blood and stale air leaked out, finally able to escape. The door groaned its discontent as she pulled it, only being able to be opened halfway.

Blood, there was so much blood. It covered the floor, the walls and the ceiling. God the ceiling she thought. The voices repeated in her head again *Let us in* *The infected are coming* *Please!!*. She struck them from her mind, ‘I had no choice’ she pleaded.

Standing in the doorway, she looked down the stairs. Darkness saturated the descending steps, covering more of her heinous crime. Gina wished she had a torch, wished the lights worked and wished she was anywhere but here.

Gina froze on the top step when she heard a noise from the dark depths below. Hesitating, she called out, maybe someone had survived, maybe they could help her.

‘Hello?’

Footsteps, shuffling and what she could only think was disgruntled breathing echoed up the steps.

‘Oh god’ she realised with mortifying speed that the stairwell was a sealed area. In the event of fire, heavy fire doors would stop the spread and keep it contained. The fire doors did their duty well, containing dozens of infected. Their stomping footsteps became a thunderous charge as they ascended towards the light, towards her.

Gina stepped back out and attempted to close the fire door but the door resisted. Karma, it seemed, had a score to settle.

Gina abandoned her attempts to close the door when she saw the first familiar face appear on the steps below. Her rage filled eyes only for Gina. These were her work colleagues, her friends. She had doomed them all.

Gina ran to the edge of the rooftop, looking down again at the streets below. She had no way out, no escape or place to hide.

Gina stood on the edge and turned, facing her colleagues as they sprinted towards her. Gina closed her eyes.

John

John and Ember had driven all day, avoiding large towns and any kind of settlement. They found going near a town meant the infected of the area would rush out to greet them. Like tour guides offering a free tour.

‘Any idea where we are?’ John asked as they pulled over. Green hills and open fields surrounded them on all sides. The last road sign John had heard of was Basingstoke. ‘No idea, I've never driven out this way. I lived in London all my life, I never really used my license once I got it’ Ember stretched out, she was tired and they both knew they needed to stop soon.

A drive that usually took a little over 40 minutes had taken them just over 4 hours, due to sticking to smaller B roads and country lanes. Occasionally they ran into traffic jams, a reminder of a failed evacuation effort and the tragic end of those attempting to get away. The infected were everywhere, a constant reminder to keep moving and to find somewhere safe to sleep tonight.

John noted the name of the small village ahead, if it could be called that at all.

Ibworth.

‘Pull over’ Ember shot John a look but slowed to a stop. ‘What is it?’ She asked while her head seemingly rotated like an owl. Stopping made them both nervous, every time they did. An infected would come sprinting down the road shortly after, drawn by the engine or it just happened to be in the area.

‘These houses, I don't think there's anyone in them and there's so few of them. Could be a good place to stop for the night’. Ember nervously looked around, Roxy stirred in the back. ‘I don't know about this’ Ember looked at the house where John was watching.

A small wall surrounded the home, covered by a tall bush. The wooden gates lay open, almost inviting them in. ‘Reverse into the driveway, go slow and just park outside the house. We can wait a few seconds, if nothing happens we can look inside’ John fished out his bat from the backseat. ‘John, I don't know about this, maybe we should keep going’.

Ember slowly reversed up the driveway, carefully watching the windows and doors of the house. As if expecting them to burst open and for the infected to come running out. But, the house stayed quiet, the only sounds were of the engine and the small stones on the driveway. Protesting against their disturbance.

‘Okay, keep the engine running if there's trouble just… don't leave me behind unless you don't have a choice’. Ember just frowned at John and told him to be careful. Roxy, now fully awake pressed her face against the rear window. Examining the modestly sized home.

John stepped out, closing the door quietly behind him. The air was clear, in that way countryside air is compared to the smog filled haze he was used to. John first peaked into the workshop/ garage on the right hand side of the driveway. An assortment of tools, car parts and just general junk filled the space.

‘Hello?’ John called, as he readied himself to run, looking back to the car and meeting the eyes of both Ember and Roxy. Their faces pressed to the glass. After a few moments, he decided the workshop was clear. Using hand signals, he and Ember had never discussed; he told her he would now check the house. Ember and Roxy just tilted their heads at him and quietly looked to where he pointed. The front door of the home.

The curtains were all closed on the house, as he crept towards the front door. John pondered what he would do if there was someone inside, what if there's an infected, what if there's dozens of them. He took a deep breath as he reached the door, John went to try the handle but paused. This is someone's home, there's a chance they could be still in there. John kicked himself as he gently knocked, placing his ear to the door. The silence beyond revealed nothing.

John knelt down, peeking through the letter box. Nothing, nothing but a darkened hallway. Leading to stairs and a room he could just see the doorway to. John whispered through the letter box ‘Hello?’.

No reply, no sound of shuffling or moving footsteps. John tested the handle, locked, he pushed the door slightly seeing if it would give way. It did not. John realised he would need to kick the door in as he took a few steps back, he heard a knock behind him. Ember was knocking on the glass and pointing down. ‘What?’ He whispered back, Ember shook her head and again pointed down, mouthing a word he couldn't make out. Ember rolled the window down and quietly said ‘Door mat’.

‘Ohhh’ John knelt and lifted the mat and revealed a spare key. Should have checked there first, he thought. The door eased open, John wished he had worn his snorkel, it gave him a strange level of comfort afforded from its limited added protection. He peaked inside, the air was stale and had a slight foulness to it. It seemed he didn't recognise, John again called. ‘Hello? Is there anyone here?’

The house remained silent as he edged his way inside, signalling again to Ember in that mysterious sign language. Ember just shook her head.

John slowly searched the downstairs, no signs of break ins or disturbance. It was a modest sized home. Sitting room, large kitchen, dining room and downstairs loo. All clear he thought, as he headed for the stairs. He ascended, the smell becoming stronger especially as he hit the landing. 4 doors encircled the landing, one door had Alex on it, decorated with small pink flowers, another had Billy on it, small footballs and dinosaur stickers. The third door had Mummy and Daddy on it, small pieces of paper pinned to all over. Children's paintings, John thought.

The last door had a bath sticker on it, small bubbles had been painted on the blue door. The smell John realised came from the bedrooms, slowly opened the parents rooms and peaked inside. Two pairs of feet stuck out, the skin pale and fading. John silently closed the door and looked again at the children's doors. The familiar smell coming from their rooms as well.

The small family had not been able to evacuate, instead their parents made an impossible choice of mercy. So they held a final family meal. Cooking their children's favourite meals, reading their favourite bedtime stories before retiring to their beds after such a perfect evening. Their parents had laced the blackcurrant juice with *REDACTED*, to ensure their children would never wake. The parents kissed their children goodnight, wishing them sweet dreams and that they would see them in the morning. The parents shared a bottle of wine, before climbing into bed and embracing each other as the *REDACTED* took effect.

John slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. The story told itself, this family had opted to give their children a final kindness rather than face the darkness and live in a world of fear. John looked to the stairs, imagining the car beyond and to Roxy. Could he make the same choice for her, sure he didn't know her but was this kinder then their current predicament. John wiped the tears from his eyes and stood.

Carefully Jon entered each of the rooms, pulling the duvets up and over so they covered the bodies laid peacefully in bed. Their eyes closed as if they had fallen into a deep sleep. He opened windows in each of the rooms, he silently apologised to the parents and asked if it was okay if they stayed the night. John went next to the bathroom, taking towels and sheets. Placing them at the bottom of each of the doors, to stop the smell of the decay spreading further into the home.

John didn't know any prayers or what to say so instead opted to close his eyes and say ‘I'm so sorry’.

John walked out to the car, Ember and Roxy's eyes following him. "It's clear, just stay downstairs and don't go upstairs," Ember gave him a puzzled look and went to ask why but John cut her off. Giving Roxy a side glance. ‘Just don't’.

They set up shop in the sittingroom, John had closed the wooden gates leading onto the property and walked the large garden. The wall continued all the way around, the only gap being the gates they used to enter.

Ember raided the cupboards, finding dried pasta, snacks and an assortment of sweets. She gave a gleeful Roxy a lolly and ushered her back into the sittingroom. John returned to find Ember stood in the corner of the sitting room, examining the array of family photos. She turned to John, she held up a photo then looked to the stairs. John grimly nodded, she was asking if they were up there. Their ad hoc sign language was improving.

As the sun began to set, they moved the sofas in the sitting room around, facing them away from the doorway and they would act as a last barrier if the infected found them in the night. John volunteered for first watch, he wouldn't be able to sleep knowing *They* were up there anyway. John had placed a chair next to the sitting room window, a similar set up to his flat he mused. Peaking out the curtain, looking at the car and empty driveway.

The world seemed so quiet and normal. Sure, hell had descended upon the world but outside of the infection. Nothing had really changed. The sun rose, birds sang and nature carried on.

Ember pulled up a cushion, sitting near John. ‘I never asked, do you have any family or friends. Somewhere we could go?’ John paused and felt shitty. Why hadn't he asked that of Ember first.

‘No, my parents died years ago and my friends are probably gone now’. Ember handed him a chocolate bar, one of the ones she found in the kitchen and replied. ‘My parents owned a house in the lake district, I didn't really talk to them before all this’ She gestured to the room. ‘I don't even know if they are still alive’.

‘We can check if you want." John had no plans and no idea where to go. The idea of having a direction appealed to him to no end. ‘I wasn't going to push’ Ember looked at John, his features fading in the dimming light.

‘Get some sleep, I'll wake you when it's your watch’

Hey guys, I'm sorry for the delayed releases. Things have been happening fast in my private life. Sadly my father's cancer is extremely aggressive and its weeks.

I will keep writing this stories as I'm finding it helps me channel and occupies my mind.

I apologise if the writing quality has decreased. Please give me feedback and ill improve on the next one.

Index

https://www.reddit.com/u/maizematt/s/BYgEt5QIDj

Day 1 if you missed it and this is the first youve heard of the series.

https://www.reddit.com/r/28dayslater/s/dZxSxP1an5

Day 16

Dublin - Republic of Ireland

The president of the Irish republic stood in a room of his peers. A dark meeting, baring dark tides.

‘We need to stop these small boats coming across the Irish Sea. If a single infected crosses those waters’ a man called

‘Would you have our men open fire on women and children?’ another replied

‘We would be dooming thousands, the Americans have it wrong. There is still time to evacuate people’ a minister stood

‘It's not worth the risk, a single infected is all it would take to bring our doom!’ another said

‘Gentlemen’ The president stood, ‘this isn't the UN or the screaming halls of Westminster. This is Ireland, we will not turn our backs on those poor helpless souls fleeing for our shores but neither can we stand against Nato's quarantine’

‘Then what will we do?’ The crowd of men asks

"We will shelter those that come, we will greet them on the beaches with blankets, food and open arms’. The president sat

A cheer went out from some in the room but the vast majority stayed silent.

Fear gripped the Irish nation, they did not have a large military to enforce quarantine or the manpower to suppress an outbreak. The Americans claimed they would help but they had seen that ‘Help’ during Operation Sunset.

John

John dreamt of a land burned to ash. He stood alone in fields of grey and red. His home, his country, had been reduced to a wasteland. He looked down and screamed. Around him were thousands of bodies, pools of blood flowed into great rivers.

He shook his head, trying to pull away from this nightmare. His hands coated in thick deep red blood, John tripped on a body and fell backwards. The red liquid flowed over him as he screamed, a familiar form moved towards him. The man he killed, his eyes full of rage and vengeance.

‘John’ called a female soft voice, a hand gently touching his shoulder. His eyes opened to find Ember, kneeling next to him.

‘It's your watch’ John had never been so thankful to be woken up in all his life. Groggily he answered ‘Got it’. As he sat up, he watched as Ember laid next to Roxy shushing her as she slipped in next to her. It was between 3 or 4am John thought as he took up position next to the window. He peaked out, immediately noticing the body of the soldier covered in red and the man he killed. Its form on a sickening display. The twilight of dawn allowed only their outlines to be seen but John felt he could have found them in the dark.

It was silent outside, dead silent. No wind and certainly no rain. The air inside was stithfilling, the faint sounds of breathing occasionally reaching his ears. John wondered when was the last time he let anyone in his flat, hell he thought. He didn't even own a cat. ‘Pets’ He whispered. He hadn't seen any pets, no chorus of whining cats singing in the night. Nor the angry bark of dogs. John hoped beyond hope they couldn't get infected.

John felt parched, his throat dry and cracked. He made a final check to ensure the street was clear then walked to the kitchen. He didn't have much water left, he grimly acknowledged, if it was just him. He could stretch this out a week but the three of them. Two or three days max, he grabbed his sunny D bottle, currently filled with water and imagined its sweet orange tang as he drank. He could only taste a sweet whisper of it.

Roxy was standing in the doorway, she had followed him out there. Wordlessly staring up at him, he lowered the bottle from his lips and awkwardly smiled. Her eyes followed the bottle. ‘Oh, sorry’ John unscrewed the lid of a second bottle, sat on the counter and gave it to her. ‘I'm John’. Roxy's eyes met Johns, for just a moment before she began to drink.

John remarked on the hardness in her eyes. The youthful, curious gaze had been ripped out and replaced with the long stare that soldiers develop from too long on the frontline.

Roxy handed the bottle back to John then wordlessly, returned to her makeshift bed next to Ember.

John felt a stab of what he felt could be sorrow or pity for the child for what she had endured, what hell had she seen and experienced coming out of London. John took up his watch by the window again, noting the glorious colours spreading across the dawn sky.

Exeter - Devon

The city was in flames, thousands of infected ran through the streets, for 2 days now the fires had raged. Consuming all in its path, people sheltered in their homes, even as their roofs caught fire. They waited until the heat from the fires began to blister their skin before running into the street. The infected were on every corner, seemingly waiting for their prey to be smoked out of hiding.

Exeter was supposed to be part of the new frontline, a rally point for the scattered western forces to regroup, dig in and prepare for evacuation. Instead as they prepared their defenses by land, the bombs came by sea and air.

Members of the 22 SAS regiment had been part of those remnants, they had fought their way from the outskirts of London to the grounds of Exeter Castle. The castle had been brought back into service to help coordinate the evacuation and served as a rallying point.

Sergeant Major Williams sat on a garden chair overlooking the burning city of Exeter. From his perch in the castle, he could hear the moment the lick of flames forced people out of their homes and into the awaiting arms of the infected. He grimaced at every scream, he and his men had *Beefed* up the defenses in and around the castle. He felt certain the infected couldn't get in but they had no way to combat the coming fire storm.

Soon, they would have to make the same choice. Stay and burn or attempt to break out. This wasn't his first command, nor his first rodeo with the infected.

After the bombings he had expected some form of radio communication to confirm new rallying points, to give them a direction to retreat to but every frequency was nothing but static. Repeated attempts by him and his radio operator to contact units in the local area and his own commanding officer were met with silence.

They were on their own.

John

John felt rude for staring, as Ember and Roxy stirred. His eyes quickly looked elsewhere when Ember noticed his attention. ‘Anything happen?’ she asked as she stood. John took a shallow breath then answered ‘No, all quiet on the western front’.

‘Western front?’

‘Sorry, It's a film from the 70s’ John replied.

Ember raised an eyebrow then walked out to the bathroom, Roxy following close behind her. John settled back into his position when he remembered the lack of plumbing, he was too socially awkward to knock on the door to tell them not to use the toilet as it won't flush. The end of the world is disgusting, he mused.

‘We need to empty that bucket, sooner rather than later," Ember said as she emerged from the darkened hallway. ‘I know, it's a problem I'm working on, I think we should just empty it out of the windows in the communal area’ John said.

‘So what's your plans?’ Ember had sat down on the sofa, staring directly at John. ‘Plan? erm I don't really have one, I mean I tried to leave during the evacuation but ended up right back here’.

‘We can't stay here," Ember said in a quiet tone, her voice clear and seemingly calm. ‘If we stay here, the infected will find us or we will run out of food and water’. She was right and John hated her a little for it.

John looked out the window again at the empty street. *We*, he thought. They had stayed here a single night and now there was a *We*. The saying always went, there's safety in numbers. But he was a loner, his few friends had moved on and away from the area. Not to mention his neighbours.

‘Where would we go’ Great, John thought

Even he has started using the word *We* now. ‘Can't go back to London, it's chaos there and completely overrun’ Ember replied as she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to iron out knots and make herself look half human.

‘We can't go south to Portsmouth. The evacuation has ended, hell the radio said the infected made it across the channel’ John recalled, still scanning the road.

‘You hungry?’ Ember asked, changing the subject as John was about to reply he realised she was talking to Roxy.

Roxy stood beside Ember, her wide eyes staring at John. ‘Okay’ Ember said in a soft voice. ‘John, what about you, Do you want anything?’

‘Sure, I can eat’

A crashing sound from downstairs, bolted the three of them to attention. John looked back outside but he couldn't see down to the windows downstairs. Not from this angle

Up the street, two infected sprint directly for their building, effortlessly smashing their way into through the windows leading into the bottom floor flat. ‘Ember holds a finger to her lips, staring at John’ a silent message between them.

*Don't fucking breathe*

John spotted a small Ginger cat running out from their building and into the alleys beyond. Fucking cats he thought, his neighbours must of left a window open and a cat got in.

They all stood in silence, afraid to move listening to the infected wreak havoc below. The words Ember said echoed in his head ‘We can't stay here’ she was right. In more ways then she realised, John should have left with Arthur and Raj. Tomorrow he thought, tomorrow morning they are leaving this flat and probably Guildford behind.

His eyes met Embers and it seemed she had come to the same conclusion.

Exeter - Devon

The fires are getting close, a tired looking soldier repeated to Sergeant Major Williams. He was right, they had a few hours at most. The smoke already hung in the air, blocking their view of most of the area and clogging their lungs.

Williams assessment of the situation was this; If they want to survive this, the 9 of them need to squeeze into a small Land Rover. They could fit but it would be tight. At last count, there were over 50 civilians inside the small fort, hiding in the main building. But they refused outright to entertain the idea of leaving.

If he and his men attempted to escape by opening the now barricaded iron gates, they wouldn't be able to seal them behind them. They could try leaving on foot, lowering themselves down over the wall in a quiet place and exiting on foot but the infected roamed the area in their thousands. No amount of stealth would hide them forever.

If they stay, they gamble with the firestorm. Maybe it will burn itself out before it reaches them. A solid plan he mused, however, people below trapped in their homes in the direct path of the blaze, had made the same gamble and paid dearly for it.

It was not the first time he and his men had abandoned civilians, secret raids in classified countries to extract classified VIPs but this. This wasn't some unknown dark corner of the world, this was home and these were their people. They had no moral deniability of following orders to fall back on. No higher command telling them, it's all part of a bigger game to sacrifice this village to save 100 more.

It was just them.

The world decided their move before they could. ‘Sergeant Major!’ His men shouted, their voices steady and zoned in. Williams reached the walls and looked down the road. Surprised to see hundreds of infected charging the gates, hell half of them were on fire!

‘Open fire!’ He roared. And as one his unit responded. Burning hands, arms and eyes gripped the gates. Shaking them violently. Williams felt a pang of panic in his heart, it was the demons of hell. They had come to the surface to take him themselves.

The crowd was burning, the infected did not feel pain as they stormed the gates, their numbers swelling against the hailstorm of bullets hitting them. The old gates groaned as they finally gave way,infected climbing over the hastily built barricade. Flames catching on all they touched.

This was a scene of nightmares, 6 of his men now formed a crescent moon around the gates. Firing desperately into the living blaze, his men did not break as the infected approached. The whites of his men's eyes slowly turned orange. Their uniforms began to catch in the blaze but still they fired as the flames crept up their legs.

Williams armed two grenades, roared and charged the gates of hell themselves.

John

John and Ember sat leaning against opposite walls while Roxy slept. The noises from downstairs had quietened down however the streets outside were now teaming with infected. The noise made from the home wreckers below had drawn in a few dozen. John and Ember had silently agreed not to risk looking through the curtain fearing even the barest slither could get them spotted.

John was wearing his armour, his goggles placed on top of his head ready to be worn at a moment's notice. He mindlessly fiddled with the snorkel, Ember wore one of John's spare jackets. It was thicker than her jumper which lay discarded and bloody on his kitchen floor. She had torn up some of John's shirts, to his great annoyance, to make makeshift masks for her and Roxy.

As the sun began to set, the only noise was the sound of their breathing, their only view was the dark outline of their bodies and the shine of their eyes. Ember moved closer to John, sitting next to him. Close enough they faintly whisper.

‘Do you own a car?’ Ember quietly whispered, being extremely cautious of volume.

‘No, even if I did I couldn't drive it’

Ember took a shallow breath, their options were limited. Her and John had come to the same realisation. ‘What about your neighbours’

‘Arthur only had the one car, he took it with to France. The couple downstairs had two cars. They only took the one’ John remembered that day, when the couple he barely knew argued in the carpark and left to find their family.

‘The keys are probably downstairs still, I can't see why they'd have taken them with them’ Ember continued ‘If we can get those keys, I can drive us out of here’.

John's heart filled with a slight tang of hope before he remembered who occupied the downstairs flat. ‘We don't know how many there are in there, plus what if their front door is locked. I can't exactly kick it down, it' ll draw all of Guildford’

Ember nudged him ‘Keep it down, look there might be a spare key underneath their door mat or above the door frame. We wait until the infected leave and we go in and get out’

It all sounded so simple, get in, get out and don't get seen. ‘What if the infected in there don't leave’ John was now questioning the completely foolproof plan that had absolutely no risks. ‘What if by some miracle we find a key for the door, get inside and find the car key. Only to find the cars got no petrol’.

‘Then we get petrol’ Ember responded, her voice cracking slightly. Even though she knew this was insane, what choice did they have? It was not if the infected found them, it was when.

‘That gun, is it loaded?’ John asked the dark form next to him. She had disappeared into the shadows.

‘I don't know, that soldier, our driver. He handed it to me when we bailed out of the truck. I've never shot a gun before’ Ember paused, allowing a few breaths to pass between them. ‘Have you?’

‘No, the closest I've come to shooting a gun is when I played Halo or at the funfair’ John thought of the underpowered Air rifles they used at the fairs, he was a terrible shot and didn't imagine he'd be much better with the real thing.

A few hours passed in silence, neither of them slept. Instead their senses attuned to the outside world. Waiting for the *Thud* or screams that the infected had found them. It never came.

‘It's quiet down there’ Ember remarked ‘I think they could be gone’ or they're sleeping, John thought.

‘We don't know what the dawn will bring, I don't think our luck will hold for another night. If we are going to do this. We should do it now’ John knew Ember was right.

‘I'll go’ John wasn't a brave man and he was unsure why he was volunteering now. ‘The flat should be the same layout as mine, minus the furniture’

Ember crawled towards the window and peaked through the curtains. She waited there for a few heartbeats then crawled back. ‘No one's out there, the street looks clear. Don't know if there' s anyone inside the flat though’

‘Okay’ John breathed deeply and attempted to psych himself up. Ember crawled to the front door and opened it. They both cringed at the smallest creaks. ‘Close it behind me, I'll knock silently three times. That's our signal’

The door slowly closed as John crept through the hallway. He was aware of every noise he made in the dark spade. His light footsteps, his breath through the snorkel and his nervous fingers on the bat.

John reached the stairs, the faint light from the moon shined through and his natural night vision showed him the outlines but nothing more. Carefully he walked down the stairs, feeling out every step to ensure he didn't fall. He began to worry the infected would hear his beating heart. His chest ached from its manic unwavering beat.

John reached the neighbours door and placed his ear to it. Every ounce of his being commanding his heart to stop pounding in his chest so he could hear the faintest sound. After what felt like an eternity, John decided the must be empty or whoever is in there is asleep… Do the infected sleep?

He knelt and felt underneath the door mat… Damn her she was right, a spare key had been placed in the most obvious place. John had to force himself to breathe as he inserted the key, the mechanism seeming a million times louder than it ought to be. The door creaked open and John again fell to his knees. He crawled through the threshold, holding his breath. Worried that even the slightest sound would give him away. The ground was wet, which concerned John. He dared not to think that he crawled through.

John prayed his neighbours weren't anything like him when it came to keys, John just dumped them on whichever surface was closest. Often spending minutes angrily searching for them later on. John reached what he assumed was a phone table and reached up with his hands. He would grab anything that felt like a set of car keys and get the hell out.

Lady luck it seemed was on his side, a bowl was resting on the phone table and it had exactly what he sought. As he gingerly lifted the keys, he heard a shuffling sound from what he assumed was the sittingroom, if their room usage was the same as his.

He was not alone, John held his breath, his lungs protesting against the sudden cut off as he slowly edged towards the door. The dark figure was moving around the sittingroom, its movements sudden and untamed. It reacted to every small sound, dip of the tap and gust of wind. John became extremely aware of every noise he made.

Slowly, so fucking slowly John crawled towards the door. The loose set of keys held like a vice in his hands. All they have to do is look into the hallway and he was fucked John thought. His lungs screamed for oxygen but he was far far from the surface.

As he crawled back over the threshold, part of him wanted to crawl straight back upstairs and hide. But he knew, he had to close the door. He had to keep them confined to this flat only, if they got into the communal area. There would be no escape.

John stood and slowly pulled the door towards himself. His eyes on the darkened entrance to the sittingroom. He waited for the glowing red eyes to appear, for a monster to charge him from the darkness. The door quietly clicked shut and John finally allowed himself to breathe.

Ember had her ear to the door, listening for movement. Listening for a signal, she heard 4 knocks. That wasn't the signal she thought back to their conversation and was cut off when she heard a rapid 3 knocks. ‘He forgot the signal’ She half smiled and opened the door.

John crawled through like a man, who had just found dry land after years at sea. ‘Got em' he wheezed. Placing them into Ember's hands.

‘There's one in the sitting room down there, it didn't see me but we need to be careful when we leave. It's likely stuck in and will only come out when it hears a noise’ John took off his Goggles and Snorkel. Placing them on the floor next to him. He took silent deep breaths, trying to silence the anxiety attack trying to break through his defenses.

‘Why the snorkel?’ Ember asked, obviously sensing his discomfort and trying to calm him.

‘Goggles stop blood going in my eyes and nose’ He breathed and continued ‘Snorkel, stop it going in my mouth’. John wasn't an asthmatic but suspected this is what an attack felt like.

‘It's the only reason I didn't shoot you’ Ember replied, settling back against the wall.

‘Thanks’ John was not only thankful for her not blasting his head off but for also spending time with him now. Trying to talk him down.

‘Get some sleep John, ill take the first watch. We can talk about leaving in the morning’ John laid his head against the wall, within seconds he was fast asleep. His body finally ran out of adrenaline and crashed hard.

Index

https://www.reddit.com/u/maizematt/s/BYgEt5QIDj

Day 1 if you missed it and this is the first youve heard of the series.

https://www.reddit.com/r/28dayslater/s/dZxSxP1an5

Day 15

Quarantine

Fires raged out of control all across Great Britain, thousands of dead washed up on her beaches, the sands slick with blood and oil from the sunken ships. Those that escaped the fires ran into the countryside, the infected fled with them. The great game of hide and seek had started and an entire nation was playing.

Manchester burned, the local residents had thrown Molotov cocktails at the infected from their makeshift barricades. No one was able to put out the blaze. The burning of Manchester could be seen from the international space station.

Once the military quarantine of the British Mainland was announced, any value left to the once mighty pound evaporated. Europe was in crisis, she had taken in over 3 million refugees in a matter of days, she had lost a huge trading partner and one of the financial hubs of the global order.

Canada had announced they would host a ‘Government in exile' for the UK and would *Temporarily* occupy their seat on the United Nations Security Council.

Operation Sunset was an open secret, an acceptable evil given the risk of infection. Residents of the north coast of France, watched in horrified awe at the orange glow in the distance. The port of Dover was in ruin, the channel tunnel now full of debris and seawater. Nato had adopted a ‘Shoot on sight’ stratagem. Destroying all boats, vessels and in some cases swimmers.

Desperate souls had tried to swim across the channel, they held out their arms screaming for help and were met with lead.

Scotland

The infected had reached the highlands, Glasgow and Edinburgh burned with rage as the tide rolled through. All organised resistance had fallen apart and people were left to fend for themselves. People stood frozen in their homes as the infection advanced, sirens ringing out signalling town after town had fallen.

Scotland is vast and empty, as a whole more people would survive the initial outbreak. Hiding in their homes or on isolated islands in the far north. But they were cut off without supply and would slowly starve.

John

John has tossed and turned all night, restlessly aware of the uncomfortable shape of his bath. His two blankets, placed in there to act as a kind of nest, made little difference. John stood and half remembered the lack of water pressure. Instead choosing to relieve himself in his mop bucket. Dealing with that was an issue he didn't want to think about right now.

John scoured his cupboards, hoping beyond hope that he had forgotten a piece of precious food. Sadly all he could find was some old tomato sauce packets and the bag of sugar. John decided not to eat either of those, he didn't feel that desperate.

‘Wonder if they are still out there’ John pondered to himself, electing to peek out of the curtains. The daylight hurt his eyes as he blinked away the blindness. The infected were gone, likely drawn away by noises in the night. Everything looked the same except for the van, its back doors were closed. ‘I swear those were open last night, maybe the wind or an infection leaned on it’.

John took up his watch, his eyes scanning up and down the street.

The nurse, the teddy and the Orphan

The nurse and the Orphan woke at every gust of wind, every knock and bump of the van. She had barely slept, fortunately it seemed like the orphan had slept better than her, wrapped up in old newspapers and using her teddy as a pillow.

They'd been at this for 2 days, ever since the evacuation of London. Thousands of people trapped in the underground as the infected flooded in. They had both crawled out of that darkness thanks to the kindness of a tube engineer who led them out the service tunnels. From there they managed to climb aboard a military transport, heading out of London. The large beast pushed the blockade of traffic out of the way.

20 of them had made it out of London, 20 out of the hundreds, no it was thousands she saw. The infected were everywhere, they couldn't stop for a moment. Even on what was presumed to be empty country lanes, they lost 7 people to a toilet break north of Cobham. Some of the group had either split off going their own way or had been pulled screaming in the darkness when they stopped for the night.

Guildford was considered far behind the lines, that's what the driver said. A young infantryman, barely over 19. The motorway leading around was blocked, so they opted to quickly drive through the town itself. Guildford's entire population seemed to be infected, hundreds chased them through the streets, the drivers foot leaden to the floor.

Infected crunched underneath the wheels of the truck as it pushed its way through Guildford, from the high street roads and into the residential areas beyond.

One wrong turn was all it took and to their horror, they could see it was a closed cul de sac with a dead end. The driver screamed at everyone to jump off as he handed the nurse a spare sidearm. The truck rolled to a stop as six people ran in different directions, the nurse picked up the child. Opting to run into a small alley instead of down the open streets like everyone else.

Panicking she searched for a place to hide as the small girl in her arms silently squirmed. The nurse tried doors, all were locked. She looked left and right as the footsteps got closer and closer. She lifted the lid of a wheelie bin, saw it was empty and climbed in.

They both wrinkled their noises at the smell but went utterly still when the footsteps echoed outside. The infected were in the alley, dozens of them. Snearing and throwing up blood. Jerky movements as they searched for their prey.

They both hid in a wheelie bin for hours, until the fading light gave them cover to move. They had to get inside one of these houses, get off the street and away from the infected who gleefully hunted anything that moved. Slowly and carefully, she lifted the lid and two sets of eyes out into the dimly lit alley.

No movement, no sounds nearby. Carefully they climbed out of the wheelie bin and crept into the streets beyond.

The nurse put her fingers to her mouth and pulled the orphan into the shadows. A group of infected ran past but couldn't see them in the shadows. 'In here the nurse whispered'. They climbed into a small parked van, its cargo doors left open. Ensuring it was clear, the nurse quietly closed the doors.

John

John watched the van intently, it moved. Ever so slightly, the suspension had creaked. Was someone in there, he thought. Had an infected somehow got into the van or had someone climbed into it last night. John thought he heard a vehicle last night in the distance. John looked up and down the street more intently but still noted no sign of the infected.

The nurse

She took out the side arm and examined it. She had no idea how to fire a weapon, she understood the basic premise. Point and shoot but that was about it. Shaking her head, she gently woke the small form next to her. Her hand gently placed on her mouth so she couldn't scream.

‘It's time to go, keep close to me okay’ the nurse checked her over, ensuring her shoes were done up and jacket secured. Each movement made her cringe, the van creaked and groaned. Its old suspension letting its discontent be known.

John

‘There is definitely someone in there’ he whispered. John watched the minor shifts of the vans suspension. Whoever it was in there, they were going to catch the attention of the infected. John looked up and down the street. Still clear but there could be some in the buildings. John hated himself for what he was considering as he pulled on his *Armour*.

He had watched helplessly as his neighbours were dragged out screaming into the streets, John was no hero but for the moment he could offer safe refuge. John was scared of being alone but feared more being the man who watched others die.

John peered through the peephole, nothing. The hallway and stairs were dark but completely untouched. Gingerly he twisted the knob and opened the door. ‘I'm such an idiot, I'm such an idiot' he said to himself as he walked down the stairs. Before reaching the main heavy door to the street outside. He paused and pulled on his goggles and finally his snorkel.

‘Okay, okay, okay’ John said as he slowly opened the door, the morning air was cool and calm as it flowed through the gap. John peaked his head through the door looking the same as a diver coming up for air. Heavy was his breathing as he snuck up the path towards the road.

His mind screamed at him to go back, to run back inside and he manically looked left then right. No infected were around but that could change at a moment's notice. John ducked behind a car and peaked over towards the white work van. He was trying to plan out how he would approach. He didn't want to make any noise, he didn't want whoever was hiding in the van to scream out either.

God this was a stupid idea, he thought as he stepped closer.

The nurse

Footsteps, those were definitely footsteps outside. Someone was close, approaching the van. She raised the pistol and pointed it at the door, ushering the small child behind her.

John

He reached the side of the van and tapped the side softly. He got no reply, so he tried to say hey but it came out muffled by his snorkel. John thought he saw movement up the street and decided enough was enough. He quietly placed his hand on the door handle and opened it.

Knock knock, whose there, infected, Infected who? Infected you.

The Nurse

Her hands were shaking as the door slowly opened, the small child to her back burying her head into her ribs and gripping her jacket. Her finger was on the trigger, ready to fire when she saw the top of the snorkel. ‘What the fuck’ she said as John peaked inside and put a hand up. If it wasn't for the snorkel, she'd have blown his head off.

John

‘Come on’, he whispered through the snorkel, gesturing for them both to follow him. ‘Now’ he commanded as they both the nurse awkwardly shuffled towards him. John was panicking, there was no way they could be out here much longer without the infected seeing them. John stood guard at the door, holding his bat watching them in the corner of his eye as a small child climbed onto the woman's back.

Silently he gestured for them to follow him, his breathing once again laboured through the snorkel. John heard the infected before he saw them, on pure instinct John swung the bat and it connected perfectly to the raging man's skull. The man fell backwards, John seized on the opportunity and caved in the man's skull.

He stood there shaking, what the hell had he just done… he'd killed someone, the body lay twitching and its blood soaked the street. John's face was covered in infectious blood, but due to his goggles and snorkel. None had entered his body, John stood paralysed over the body and the nurse poked him.

‘This way’ he gestured as they crept across the street, keeping low.

*More infected will be coming, they always do*

The three of them quietly ushered inside the block of flats, closing the heavy door. John peaked through the small window at the top of the door and noted two infected had come to investigate the noise and their fallen comrade. ‘Upstairs’ John whispered, the three of them moving like silent ghosts.

Once inside the relative safety of John's flat, he took off his goggles and snorkel, noting with horror they were covered in blood. John couldn't stop his hands from shaking, the image of that man on the floor as his bat descended… John thought he would throw up.

Looking up, he noticed the nurse and the small girl. Who looked around six standing in front of him. She still held her pistol, ready to be raised at a moment's notice. ‘John’ He whispered… ‘I'm erm John, are you a doctor?’

‘Nurse’ She replied flatly, still keeping her guard up, still assessing the threat. ‘My name's Ember’.

‘Ember’ John repeated, looking at the small child hiding behind Ember's legs.

‘She's not mine, I mean I'm not her mother. We've been travelling together since London, since the evacuation. I don't know her name, she doesn't talk but her Teddy had Roxanne on it. So I call her Roxy sometimes’.

‘Where are her parents?’ John saw the pained look in Roxy's eyes and didn't press for an answer after he was met with silence.

‘I thought Guildford was supposed to be safe?’ Ember asked, lowering the gun and relaxing slightly. ‘It was’ John replied ‘they called for an evacuation so we all went to the trainstation, the infected…’ John paused, the flash back of screams and blood overwhelming his senses. ‘The infected were on the train’.

‘Do you have any food?’ The nurse asked frankly, ‘We've barely eaten since London’. John shrugged apologically. ‘Sorry, no i ran out’ my upstairs neighbour Arthur might have some food’. Ember raised an eyebrow ‘There's someone upstairs?’ John shook his head. ‘No they left pretty early on but I think he has food. I'll go get some, you two erm make yourselves at home’.

John wiped the blood off his goggles and snorkel. Placing them back over his face, he could have sworn he heard a snort of laughter from the pair but headed upstairs.

It seemed Arthur had taken no food when he left. His cupboards are full of cans of soup, noodles and rice. The bread and contents of the fridge freezer were a small moldy laboratory. John made the mistake of opening the fridge, his eyes watered from the stench. John carried out what he could, thanked Arthur silently, whispering a prayer for his safety.

When John returned to his flat, he found Ember to be *Barricading* a corner of his sitting room. She had moved sofas, tables and chairs. Creating a nest of safety for her and Roxy.

Make yourself at home indeed.

John handed Ember a few cans of soup, canned fruit and a single can of spam. Before he could speak, a scream cut them off. Roxy retreated underneath her makeshift den as John moved to the window.

The infected had found someone, John through the curtains as Ember took up watch on the adjacent side. A soldier, dressed in bulletproof armour and thick clothing had been dragged to the ground. The infected lashed out at him as he screamed. His armour, face mask and clothing protecting him from infection. His pleas for mercy, for them to stop and his screams became quieter and quieter.

‘That's our driver,’ she whispered. She gasped as an infected pulled off his mask, his bright young face taught with fear. Ember stepped away, unable to watch as John wisely stopped watching too.

‘Your driver?’ John asked.

And so the day went on, Ember explained in full their lucky escape from London, how she had pulled Roxy onto the train to calm her down just before the infected stormed the evacuation effort. John explained what he had done, mostly procrastination and hiding. Ember didn't judge him, she didn't scold him for not leaving earlier instead just nodded in understanding.

As the sun began to set, John offered them both his bed and he would take the sofa. To which Ember replied ‘No, we all sleep in the same room. It's safer. I'll take first watch’

‘Watch?’ John asked. ‘The infected seem to be more active at night,’ Ember replied, taking her place next to the window. ‘Okay wake me when you need me’.

John laid on the makeshift bed on the floor, a sideways glance meant he met with Roxy's watching eyes. She said nothing as she hugged her Teddy and settled in for the night.

Tony Blair

Tony stood in the United Nations Security Council chambers, he looked to his would be allies and asked. ‘Why?’

West Coast of Wales.

In the dead of night, unseen to passing jets. People boarded small boats, men, women and children cast off for Ireland. The ferries had been sunk and ports bombed. But small craft still ventured between. The Irish government turned a blind eye to the supposedly complete military quarantine of Britain. The infected climbed into the Welsh mountains but they were yet to reach the western coast.

France Calais

Thousands of people watched the orange glow on the horizon, their island home burned and its people left to die. Silently they stood, tears and cries of grief the only sound in the air. Around them stood French police who were under strict orders to disperse the crowd but instead they stood side by side with them. Grieving their lost neighbour.

Isle of Wight

As the bombs fell, some infected had scrambled their way onto a small yacht. The ghost ship drifted with the tide and the current. Landing on the north east side of the Isle of Wight. The poor souls who watched Portsmouth burn from a distance had no idea that their sanctuary had become a deadly nightmare.

Index

​

https://www.reddit.com/u/maizematt/s/BYgEt5QIDj

​

Day 1 if you missed it and this is the first youve heard of the series.

​

https://www.reddit.com/r/28dayslater/s/dZxSxP1an5

​

Day 14.

​

Margate.

​

The Dutch flotilla set off in the early hours, they would answer the call for help. Dozens of Small craft crossed the sea and began landing on the beaches of Margate, hundreds spilled onto the beaches to greet their would be saviours. Horns blared and the Dutch shouted in triumph, the first vessels that landed on the now cursed island would never leave. Boats further back could do nothing but watch as their comrades were dragged screaming from their ships and onto the blood soaked beaches.

​

Dover

​

The only comparison of the evacuation of Dover could be the evacuation of Dunkirk. Tens of thousands lined the beaches, filled the docks and waited in large unruly crowds to get onto the tunnel trains. They were packed tightly, human cattle cars avoiding the slaughter.

​

Priority was given to families and children. So many children were alone, their parents giving them to strangers who had room in their cars. People of every caste and creed filed towards the coast. Soldiers still wearing uniform, huddled with their families walked past the rear guard. There were no angry exchanges, no cries of cowardice and desertion. Instead only a simple nod of thanks.

​

Captain Martin's stood aboard the Pride of Dover. A P&o channel ferry, for days she had sailed back and forth between Dover and Calais. Her decks filled to the brim with thousands of refugees. The remainder of the forces that made up the evacuation effort had opted to refuse entry to all vehicles, either pushing them into car parks or into the sea. French jets buzzed over the channel constantly, the French coast was becoming militarised. More troops are coming everyday.

​

The night before, secret talks between Nato and European leadership had gone into the night. Doctors, scientists and leading authorities in Virology had been summoned to their late night meetings. Any who gave their advice, or had realised the meaning of Sunset. Had been placed under strict house arrest or detained.

​

Captain Martin's radioed to the Calais port control, they were approaching for docking. His radio operator had asked to leave his post. Martin's didn't have the heart to stop him, instead wishing his colleague luck.

​

‘Calais control this is the Pride of Dover on approach, please confirm dock number Over’.

​

*Static*

​

‘Calais Control this is the Pride of Dover, please respond’

​

Martin's knew the voice and tone of the radio operators, he'd never met them but he was surprised to hear a new more commanding voice. The man had a thick Parisian accent.

​

‘Pride of Dover, Pride of Dover. You are not clear to dock, say Again Not clear to dock. Return to Dover’

​

The remaining bridge crew gasped, as Martin's fumbled the radio to reply ‘Calais control, we have refugees on board. Dover is not safe, say again Dover not safe we cannot return’

​

‘You are ordered to return to Dover. Over and out’

​

Martin's grit his teeth and ran his fingers through the remainder of his hairline. ‘Take us in and dock at Calais’ he turned and shouted ‘Hanson!’ A young man stood upright almost to attention. ‘Make the announcement’

​

Refugees were unloaded at gunpoint, a tense stand off between French border police, a mix of Royal marines and sailors. French authorities protested but were unwilling to directly fire on civilians.

​

John

​

He awoke to no water pressure, no electricity and John was out of food. He had stress eaten the remaining supplies, cursing himself for doing so. John thankfully had the sense to fill up whatever containers he could find when he noticed the water pressure beginning to fail last night. He wasn't sure how many of his neighbours had died or had been turned during the night.

​

Again he had barely slept, the occasional banging out on the street ripping him from his lucid dreams. The infected didn't scream like normal people he noted, the screams were the desperate last calls of his neighbours losing their sick game of hide and seek. John peaked out through the gap in the curtains, assessing the damage caused to his neighbour's homes. It made him take a deep breath.

​

Multiple windows had been broken, doors lay open or had broken inwards. A few bodies lay on the street, pools of drying blood around them. ‘Blood loss’ John whispered. Once an infected person was injured, even minor cuts or wounds would kill them. The ones who had obviously climbed through a shattered window had no care for the lacerations they caused on their bodies.

​

John could see the infected, they shambled around responding to the slightest sound and attacking it. One had hit the side of a van, its back doors open. The infected movements were jerky and sudden. John watched them in a numb trance, unable to look away but he knew the longer he looked the more chance they'd see him.

​

Gatwick Airport

​

Gatwick was under siege, the infected stalked the area outside of the perimeter. Unable for now to breach the defenses made by the royal engineers. Few aircraft were left, too few for the number of people behind the chain linked fences. Food and water had run out this morning.

​

Johan was a Swedish Tourist, he had come to the UK two weeks ago for a holiday, to see friends he met online through chat rooms and experience the world for the first time.

​

Johan's English wasn't very good, he didn't understand the announcements or demands by the soldiers. All he knew was he had to get on a plane home. Power inside the terminals was limited, emergency generators were beginning to run out. Their diesel reserves were dipped into by the royal engineers.

​

Johan stood in Terminal 3, he looked out the windows towards the fence line and saw a growing crowd. The infected were there, their hands shaking the fence violently. Soon, soon they would get in.

​

Johan needed answers, maybe someone spoke Swedish here, someone could explain or potentially his broken English could get him onto a plane. The terminal was full of people as he slowly walked through, mindful not to step on those who laid on the ground sleeping or simply too tired to stand.

​

‘Umm hello?’ Joten asked a nervous looking soldier. ‘When we leave?’. A grim expression spread across the soldier's face. ‘I don't know mate’.

​

The man's radio came to life.

​

*No fuel, say again no fuel*

​

*There's got to be something, what about returning planes?*

​

*Towers reporting that passenger planes are being boarded when they land*

​

*They won't allow planes to return*

​

Johan could understand maybe a quarter of what was being said.

​

*Breach, we have a breach!*

​

Johan didn't understand the word breach but he knew the fear in the soldiers eyes. Machine guns roared to life as the infected ran across the landing strip. People in the terminal rose to their feet, voices filled the air as people pushed towards the exits.

​

‘Stay calm they can't get inside the soldiers shouted’ indeed the royal engineers had barricaded the terminal well but had not accounted for the mass panic of a herd trapped in a glass cage. Johan was washed away with the crowd as they pushed him towards the exit.

​

‘Nej!, Nej!’ Johan screamed as he lost his footing, time seemed to slow as he fell to the ground. He screamed as boot after boot impacted his chest, legs and head. He was being trampled. People tripped and fell over his now prone body, he wrapped himself in a fetal position. ‘Nej’ he weakly cried as the air left his lungs, his ribs cracked and fractured.

​

Rifles opened up inside the terminal as soldiers fired into the crowd. People were rushing their positions, trying to pry open doors and windows.

​

Johans vision went black as someone fell on top of him and he lost consciousness.

​

John

​

John sat on his sofa, for hours he had just zoned out and thought. Thought about his neighbours, his friends who were surely dead, infected or had fled. He needed to know what was happening out there, he needed news. ‘Radio’ he whispered as he stood creeping into his bathroom. The batteries were low but it switched on. He quickly adjusted the volume to the lowest possible setting and pressed it to his ear.

​

*Static*

​

Almost every radio station was static or had the emergency tone followed by the evacuation alert

​

*Alert, an evacuation order of the British isles has been ordered. This is not a drill*

​

‘Fuck’ John muttered, again and again different radio stations repeated the same message. Then music… A thousand miles… ‘Oh fucking hell’ John sighed.

​

*You're listening to Delttttaaa FM reporting live from the end of the world. Delta FM will keep broadcasting until we run out of diesel for our generator. The infected are outside of our building, so we can't leave. Also Fuck!. I can swear on the air now*

​

John thought the radio presenter had lost the plot but considered his current predicament and sympathised.

​

John had laid down in his bath tub, he felt safe in there as it had no windows. For hours he flicked through different radio stations, mostly evacuation orders and routes to take. John noted the sun was setting and opted to sleep in the bath tonight.

​

Operation Sunset.

​

As the sun began to set over the warzone that was the United Kingdom. Nato jets buzzed across the channel, the Irish Sea and the north sea. The radar stations of the UK weren't being monitored, neither were the air defenses manned. Low and fast they soared over the green hills, small towns and cities. Infected eyes followed the sonic bomb as it blasted through the air.

​

*This is BBC Radio one, we are receiving reports of infection in New York and Paris. Repeat evacuation not safe*

​

The bombs began to fall across the UK, targeting transmission towers, power plants, transport links and finally the evacuation effort itself.

​

Captain Martin's watched in horror as the HMS Gloucester exploded, a lone exocet missile hit her stern with a force of a thousand suns and she was engulfed in flames. Emergency sirens blasted from the remaining royal navy vessels as one by one they were targeted. Skeleton crews attempted to man a desperate defence but defeat was certain.

​

*All hands abandon ship, get off the ship now!!* The pride of Dover had just docked at Dover, allowing refugees on-board. As the Nato Jets lined up on the Pride of Dover. Martin's last thoughts were of his wife, who was waiting for him in Calais.

​

An empty train returned through the channel tunnel. Its passengers and driver removed. Slowly she approached the centre of the crossing. The French had filled a carriage with demolition charges, enough to level a small town. With a thunderous roar, the tunnel collapsed. The artery to the continent now severed forever.

​

​

Gatwick Airport

​

​

Johan groaned as he moved, a heavy set male laid across him, he slowly and painfully shifted his bulk off until he was freed. In horror he saw he was laid in a shallow pile of bodies, moans of pain filled the air. The crowd had surged towards the exits and the soldiers standing guard had gunned them down. Johan looked to the terminal doors and saw them, hundreds of infected their faces pressed against the glass hammering their dark intent.

​

The ground shook as Gatwick went up in flames, all aircraft were targeted along with the runways. Johan closed his eyes as the flames of Valhalla consumed him.

​

Portsmouth

​

The harbour was burning, in moments thousands of people aboard ships were reduced to ash or went screaming into the dark waters. Soldiers desperately holding bridges against the coming tide of infection washing against them watched in horror as the evacuation they gave their lives for was obliterated. Some shot themselves, others ran and some fought until the bitter end.

Operation Sunset was an unmitigated success. Dover, Exeter, Brighton, Liverpool, Newcastle, Edinburgh, Goodwick, HolyHead and many others were hit.

​

The RAF was powerless to stop the onslaught. No one had prepared for this, it was unthinkable and all resistance to the infection fell apart.

​

Conway - Wales

Those that had not fled the town had retreated behind the ancient walls, their gates barricaded and defenses manned. They watched the orange glows on the horizon and stood in awe as the noose was tightened around the Isles. The infection had not reached Conway yet but once people heard the broadcasts, the infection had crossed the channel and the Atlantic. All hope of escape was lost and the high walls of Conway promised safety.

​

John heard the BBC broadcast. There's nowhere left to run to, he thought. Before settling down for the night. John decided a final look outside was in order. He wanted to know if the infected had left the area. He moved the corner of the curtains and peaked out.

​

The Nurse, the teddy and the Orphan.

​

Silently they crept through the streets, their group of Twenty reduced to two. The nurse put her fingers to her mouth and pulled the orphan into the alley. A group of infected ran past but couldn't see them in the shadows. ‘In here the nurse whispered’. They climbed into a small parked van, its cargo doors left open. Ensuring it was clear, the nurse quietly closed the doors.

​

​

Apologies for the delay. I'm currently in Sweden, between being out of the country and organising help from aware with my father. I haven't had much time to sit down and write.

I apologise if the writing isnt as good as the previous installments. A lot going on in my personal life.

Index https://www.reddit.com/u/maizematt/s/BYgEt5QlDj

Day 1 if you missed it and this is the first youve heard of the series.

https://www.reddit.com/r/28dayslater/s/dZxSxP1an5

​

Day 13

​

John

​

John hadn't moved in hours, he laid completely still and utterly silent in the bath. Every breath was a mental focus on silence. The screaming outside had stopped at least, John wasn't sure what time it was but knew it was getting close to morning. Light crept underneath the bathroom door.

​

He kept seeing her in his mind, that woman at the trainstation, the hatred in her eyes and the pure rage. She had him, if he hadn't pulled away sooner. She would have… John cut the thought off before it could take root. He had gone over the train station chaos in his mind over and over throughout the night.

​

London - Westminster Palace.

​

The house of commons lay empty, papers littered the floor and doors left ajar. For hundreds of years this had been the seat of successive British governments, now the building lay empty. Never to be used again.

​

The UK government was broken and fractured. In the chaos of the first day of evacuation, points of contact had been lost. Tony Blair was in New York, by the time he had received information and then relayed back a diplomatic response. The situation on the ground had changed.

​

The armed forces fared no better, it was hard to convince soldiers to fight when their families at home were under direct threat.

​

Emergency services were now non-existent, NHS Hospitals had ravaged by the infected, abandoned or were soon to fall.

​

Local police forces had joined the fleeing masses,

​

Fires raged across the UK, calls to the fire service went unanswered.

​

Infection rates have started to reach their terrible peak. Estimations put the number of infected between 10 to 20 million. Thousands more join every minute.

​

Barricades at Liverpool, Manchester all the way east to York. Held but infected slipped through the gaps, reports of infection in Huddersfield, Bradford and Skipton. Sealed the fate of the Northern defenses.

​

Helicopters flew over London, heading south. Passengers and Pilots looked down in horror at the carnage below. People ran through the streets, battles raged between remaining hold outs and the infected.

​

Hundreds of people stood on roof tops waving for the helicopters to land, they ignited emergency flares and had drawn SOS in large letters.

​

People pleaded and swore as the helicopters faded into the distance. None would risk landing in London.

​

Paris

​

The protests had started as soon as footage of the first flotilla of British refugees aired. The French public were afraid, they feared the infection would cross the channel. Many called for the refugees to be sent elsewhere, some called for the channel tunnel to be blocked, blown up and some even called for the small boats to be shot in the water.

​

Refugee camps had been set all across the north coast of France. European nations argued between them about who would pay the cost and how the burden would be shared.

​

Hampshire

Portsea Island.

​

The city of Portsmouth was a Naval fortress, countless castles and Victorian age forts surrounded the city. They had been built to hold off enemies from the sea but now played host to the reorganising military.

​

The fall of London had decimated the ranks of the military. And in the chaos that followed, supply lines broke down, communication collapsed and unit locations were unknown. What remained of High Command had opted to broadcast openly on the radio.

​

*Attention, Attention This is Rear Admiral Lockwood, broadcasting on all frequencies. London has fallen, repeat London has fallen. All remaining units are to move South. Repeat all remaining forces to move south. RAF bombing of areas north of Butser hill will begin at 14.00 hours. Repeat, get south of Butser. Bombing begins at 14.00 hours. Civilian evacuations out of Portsea are ongoing*

​

Petersfield Hampshire

​

​

Poppy walked down the side of the A3, she had her thumb out as car after car drove past her. She had walked from Petersfield train station, the old market towns nearly deserted. The infection wasn't far behind her, the fact cars passed at a faster and faster speed. Meant they were coming, Poppy got more desperate. Waving, shouting, trying to flag down someone to give her a lift but no one would stop. ‘Please stop,’ she shouted to the passing cars.

​

Jets roared overhead, Poppy's head shot up in amazement. They were so low and quick. She picked up her pace as the ground shook. The RAF had begun their bombing runs, Liphook, Liss, Bordon all burned. The motorway was now empty of passing cars, no more approaching from the north.

​

Poppy stopped and looked around, there must be someone or something here. She can't be… her eyes registered movement… small groups of people were running towards her… she put up her hand in greeting but the crowd kept sprinting, straight at her.

​

‘Oh god, No, no, no. Help! Please!’ Poppy ran in the opposite direction, the infected had followed the cars fleeing south. Now they followed her.

​

Poppy's chest hurt, her lungs burnt as she drew in long deep breaths. She dared not look behind her as the infected drew ever closer. She had nowhere to go, no one to help, she could only run.

​

25 metres, Poppy glanced behind her and noticed in horror they had gained on her. Butser Hill was ahead of her, steep and deadly. When they had built the A3 they had cleaved their way through the valley next to Butser. Poppy felt like her legs were about to give out and still the infected gave chase.

​

15 metres, Poppy was crying now, she couldn't keep this pace up. Her body screamed at her to stop to slow down. Her heart hammered in her chest between her panicked breaths.

​

5 metres, she could hear them. Their stomping footsteps, ragged breathing and waving arms. ‘Help me! Help me please!’ She coughed. Unable to form the words fully.

​

They were right behind her now, one misstep, one glance back and they'd have her. Poppy looked left and right. No cars, no people and no hope of losing the infected. She could feel the air moving as manic waving arms reached for her.

​

Poppy's panicking mind pleaded for an escape, pleaded for her to stop and pleaded for her to survive. They were one step behind her now.

​

Portsea Island - Portsmouth.

​

Tens of thousands of people crossed the few bridges into Portsmouth. Rag tag teams of sailors, Royal marines, RAF and Infantry regrouped in the city. The radio call from Lockwood had worked, and a small task force was beginning to come together. Armouries aboard destroyers, auxiliary ships and inside the naval base had been plundered. Handed out to the mixed force.

​

Admiral Lockwood stood on board the HMS York, Lockwood had single handedly railed the remaining British Forces from their defeat at London. He was attempting to set up new defensive lines around Portsmouth, Southampton, Brighton, Dover and Exeter.

​

All that mattered now, was to cover the evacuation and to get as many out as possible.

​

Dover, Brighton and Exeter would take their refugees to France. Portsmouth and Southampton would evacuate to the Isle of Wight. Portsmouth harbour was clogged with hundreds of craft, all taking part in the evacuation effort.

​

‘Call sign NRPG, do you read. This is GBBB. Please respond’ The American 6th fleet had relocated from their position in the channel to the bay of Biscay. Multiple attempts to contact them had been made but all communications it seemed were ignored.

​

‘Fuck it’ Lockwood said leaning into the mic ‘This is Admiral Lockwood, calling the American 6th fleet, located in the Bay of Biscay. I know you can hear me’

​

*Static*

​

‘We have civilians in desperate need of evacuation. Please respond’

​

*Static*

​

‘This is Lockwood, calling out to any Nato call sign to respond!’

​

‘They can hear us, they are just choosing not to respond’. A tired looking CIS Specialist replied. ‘Every minute they delay is a few thousand more infected. Keep trying to raise them, broadcast on all frequencies if need be’.

​

‘Christ not even the French are answering’

​

John

John had hidden in his bathroom all day, it all sounded strangely normal and quiet outside. The shock of what happened had finally started to wear off, John saw to the needs of his aching bladder and flushed the toilet. He wasn't sure what was louder, the traiterous flush or his palm hitting his forehead.

​

He fully expected the door to be broken off its hinges and for the infected to come barreling through. But thankfully, silence. Gingerly and aware of every squeak, he opened the bathroom door and peaked out. The flat was as he left it, the sun was beginning to dim outside but his space was as he left it.

​

John crawled around his flat, careful not to be seen from the windows. One by one he closed the curtains and pulled down the blinds. He froze at every noise outside, holding his breath believing that somehow, they could hear even that. Curiosity got the better of John, he had to look outside.

​

He had to know if they were out there. Slowly, he peeled back the corner of the curtains and looked into the street beyond. It looked no different he thought. Most of the cars were gone but other than that. Nothing looked different.

​

The sunset was beautiful, John thought as he became as nosey as Doris who lived at 23. Part of him questioned if the whole train station incident was a bad dream.

​

John looked to his neighbours windows and saw some curtains twitch. Seems he wasn't the only one on neighbourhood watch. A spark of orange caught his eyes, as his neighbours lit candles. Illuminating their darkened homes in the fading light. John thought he should probably do the same, he had some candles in the kitchen cupboard.

​

As John walked into his kitchen, cursing the door frame for assaulting his toe. He heard glass breaking, turning he crept back to his lookout as quietly and quickly as he could.

​

‘No’. He whimpered. The infected could see the candlelight. ‘Put them out, put them out’. He whispered while gritting his teeth. His neighbours screamed as the infected climbed through their windows, smashed through their doors and tackled those who attempted to flee out onto the street. He watched in horror as the infected dragged an elderly man out of a window, the glass tearing at his frail body. His wife screamed, as the rest climbed in seeking her.

​

More curtains moved, revealing more candlelights and handheld torches. They acted as beacons to the infected. John couldn't look away, as one by one. The infected took his neighbours, their screams drawing more to his street.

​

John couched down and put his hands to his ears. He couldn't listen to this anymore, ‘this can't be real, this can't be real’. He whispered to himself.

​

​

​

New York

​

Tony Blair had checked into the Waldorf Astoria hotel in New York. For 2 hours the UN security council had scolded him, ordering an evacuation of 50 million people with absolutely no plan and notice to their allies. They had called him reckless, and accused him of destabilising western Europe.

​

The situation in the UK was dire, after the fall of London. Resistance to the oncoming infected advance was scattered, military units either being cut off, infected or going Awol. Blair had been in limited contact with rear admiral Lockwood. Lockwood was organising every resource left for the Evacuation effort.

​

Blair was exhausted, he had retired to his bedroom. Telling his aides to wake him in 4 hours.

​

A quiet knock followed by ‘Prime minister’ a mysterious voice from the lobby called. Blair was readying himself for a rest. ‘Come in’ Blair called.

​

The man who walked in seemed like he bathed in shadow, he wore a dark grey suit and the shadows of the room seemed to pull towards him.

​

The shade handed Blair a heavily redacted document. Titled *Operation Sunset*.

​

‘What is this?’ Blair asked.

​

A voice as smooth as Scottish whiskey on a warm summer's evening replied. ‘Unknown, this was found in the dispatches of an American CIA operative’.

​

‘What happened to the operative?’ The shadow didn't reply, only tilted his head. ‘Find out more about this Operation Sunset, by any means necessary’ The shadow bowed slightly and left the room.

​

Earlier that day

​

Poppy.

​

Butser hill.

​

She couldn't run anymore.

​

Her chest heaved as she pulled in deep breath after deep breath.

​

She was fueled by adrenaline, its reserves running dangerously low. She couldn't keep this up, behind her it had been a dozen infected at first, now it was hundreds. She pasted into the human made valley that cleaved its way through the mighty south downs.

​

The infected started to close the gap between them, step by step, closer and closer. She had nothing left, as shots rang out. She couldn't see who was taking the shots, the sound echoed throughout the valley. The infected fell, blood and pieces of flesh coating the tarmac.

​

Poppy had been extremely lucky to run into what remained of the Aldershot garrison and The Royal Gurkha Rifles. Hours earlier, they had pulled out of the garrison town under Lockwood's order. She fell to her knees, crying and sucking in breath after breath as two Gurkhas approached their rifles raised.

​

She looked up and found them both smiling, seemingly unbothered by the current situation.

​

​

News paper made using CHATGPT

Leaflet 1 from film the other made with CHATGPT

​

Images from Google

​

Sorry for the delay, a lot going on in my personal life. I hope you guys enjoy this one.

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

Hello guys, my release schedule will be varied. I'm really enjoying writing these so I will attempt to keep it regular.

Day 1 if you've missed it

https://www.reddit.com/r/28dayslater/s/Czb9lkDtYu

Day 12

The fall of London and beginning of the end.

Ammo shortages had been reported for 2 days now, logistical teams simply couldn't keep up with the constant demand for more. Their trucks kept getting caught in heavy traffic leaving London.

The rifles manning the barricade in Hackney had not stopped all night, attempting to avoid hitting the non infected who also charged past their blockades. The lines had shattered through the night, throughout London, positions lay abandoned or were in the process of being overrun.

The Hackney barricade held firm for now, the name Maggy had been coined for the runners. Men and women who carried magazines cases back and forth.

‘Maggy!’ Steve looked up from the magazine he loaded rounds into, 5 Maggy's sat around him doing the same. They had been at this all night, his fingers ached and he was beyond tired.

He'd volunteered to be part of the ‘Home guard’ that's what the local area commander had called it. It was more like Dad's army at first but slowly. Handing out food boxes, water and making jokes with the locals about how this will all be over soon. Eventually,all of them were drafted into frontline assistance roles, Loading empty magazines from a dwindling supply of bullets.

Steve dropped magazines as he passed down the line, each soldier he stopped by said the same line ‘Thanks Maggy, two sugars for me’. The number of sugars related to how many magazines they wanted.

Steve peered over the barricade, watching as the infected fell. The sounds of gunfire assaulting his ears, there were so many bodies, the clean up crews had given up attempting to remove them. He ducked back behind taking a quick breather. That was when he noticed movement behind them, his voice caught in his throat and he tried to scream. The infected were behind them, he reached out a hand and pulled manically on the soldier's leg next to him.

‘Little busy here Maggy!’ The solder glanced behind and screamed out ‘Behind the line, Behind the fucking line!’.

John

John awoke to screaming and shouting outside his flat. He laid swaddled in bed, buried in blankets. Nervously he stood, walked to the window and took a peek outside. Two of his neighbours were outside arguing, glancing around he noticed a lot of faces pressed against windows. Watching the same events unfold.

‘I don't care Derek, we are leaving now! My mums got a place in Spain, we can drive there through France. Now get in!’ John didn't know these people who lived across the way from him. He'd seen them bring shopping in a few times but never spoken to them. John noticed the two little faces in the car, their tiny cheeks pressed to the window.

‘Sandra be reasonable, this isn't as bad as they are making out and you're not taking my kids to bloody Spain’. Sandra crossed her arms and looked to be counting. ‘Fine’ he relented but I'm driving.

John watched as yet another of his neighbours left. John noted that even more cars were gone.

Around an hour later, the power came back on. John moved swiftly to the sitting room and sat himself down in front of the TV then his mouth hit the floor.

EVACUATION.

A very flustered BBC presenter sits at a desk, fumbling with paperwork. She glances left and says ‘Are we live? Yes? Okay’ the presenter looks into the camera, clears her throat and begins.

‘All residents of the UK are hereby ordered to Evacuate the mainland by any means necessary’ The presenter looks to her left and nods. As if confirming the information is correct and not a hoax.

The green screen usually used for weather behind her changes to a map of the UK mainland, Red stretches to the Border of Wales. Green and Red X's mark ports and airports.

‘I have been advised areas marked in green are currently infection free. Areas marked in red are not safe. I will repeat. Only use evacuation routes marked in green. Do not under any circumstances go into infected areas unless you have no other choice’.

John stands frozen, unable to comprehend what he's seeing. ‘The entire country?’ He said out loud. ‘Even those in Scotland, Wales and the west country?’.

As if in reply the presenter continues. ‘During the night military blockades in London were overrun. The infected are moving freely throughout the capital. If you are in London receiving this broadcast, you are advised to leave immediately. Pack nothing but essentials and get out. Again Leave immediately’

‘What the fuck’ Johns heart thunders in his chest.

‘Train services in London have been restored to a limited service. Roads are blocked in some areas leaving London but I've been informed the military are working on safe routes out of London. Follow the direction of your area commander’

‘Residents North of Birmingham are advised to head to Liverpool. Residents South of London are Advised to Head south towards the coast. The royal navy is coordinating with Nato to evacuate as many people as possible. Main evacuation ports are Southampton, Portsmouth, Brighton, Exeter, Torquay, Weymouth and Dover’

‘Evacuation routes in Scotland, North of England and Wales will be aired on BBC 2’.

John heard engines start outside but carried on watching the TV.

"We now go live to Tony Blair’.

Blair sat in an unfamiliar office, somewhere in New York, his face slightly sunken in and heavy bags under his eyes "People of the United Kingdom, it is with deepest sorrow and regret that I must inform you of our greatest challenge since the second world war. The threat this virus poses to our country is very real. The armed forces have done a valiant job in containing and battling the virus. But’.

Blair takes a breath, refocuses and looks back at the camera. ‘But, they cannot stop the spread. I am asking for all seaworthy vessels to take part in the evacuation effort. We are all in this together’

The irony of saying that from an undisclosed location 3000 miles away wasn’t lost on John.

‘Please, this is not a drill or a hoax. Stop what you are doing now and go. Leave your homes and head to an evacuation point. As a country we have faced many threats and risen to the occasion. Don’t be mistaken to think this isn’t a threat or that you won’t be affected. This is our darkest hour and I pray you all make it to safety’.

‘The feed cuts back to an empty chair, the presenter gone. After a few moments the screen goes dark’

John saw himself in the black mirror, he knelt in front of the TV. Taking in every detail, every word. Front doors on the street outside began to open on his neighbours' homes, not all of them. Some hesitated. Some still choose to try to wait this out. John thought of Arthur, Raj and decided he wouldn’t wait any longer.

London - Piccadilly circus.

Shortly after the BBC broadcast ended, London awoke from its slumber. Thousands poured onto the streets, they came out of their homes. Flooding into the streets, following the direction of the remaining Police and armed forces. The sound of battle was everywhere, machine gun fire, sirens and explosions. A desperate last stand and sacrifice to give people time to evacuate.

Hundreds of people walked through Piccadilly Circus, being encouraged down into the Underground, to the ongoing evacuation effort. Outside the entrance to the tube, people pinned photos to the renovation boards surrounding Shaftesbury Monument Memorial Fountain. Families wrote desperate pleas to the missing. They left messages detailing where they would go, that they loved them and begged them to stay safe.

Sydney, leaving this here since I know you walk by here. DO NOT GO TO THE FLAT. Meet me at our shed, stay hidden. If I don't see you again, I love you. -Sam

Helen, I'm so sorry for the way things ended between us. It all seems so trivial now. I never stopped loving you. If you're reading this, I'll be waiting at the place where we first met. I'll make it safe for us. I live in hope. Forever yours, Graham.

Meet me at the place only we know - Naive

Gone fishing, meet you there - Jimmy

Seán - I hope you made it to Ireland like you said. I don't think I'm getting out of London. If you ever see this, know that I loved every minute of being with you

If you see Nora Fletcher from Canning Town, tell her I borrowed her leather jacket. - S

Arnold.. I've gone home. Please use the usual knock so know it's you. Stay safe, if not.. I love you punky

Thousands of messages coated the surface.

The masses filled down into the Underground, the roar of trains and the sheer amount of people was deafening.

Jennifer - 6 years old.

Jennifer held her mothers hand and Roxanne her teddy in the other. She couldn’t see her father or anything around her. There were so many people pressing in on all sides, the air was stithfulling and hot. Jennifer’s mother had warned her not to let go of her hand, her father pulled her and mother through the crowd.

She hadn't been outside in 6 days, instead she had stayed in her room, watching the world outside and listening to her parents as they argued. The television, whenever it was on, always had the news playing.

If you see something that doesn't look right, speak to staff or text the British Transport Police. See it. Say it. Sorted.

Jennifer felt the ground move under her as they got onto the escalator. There were so many people, she had never known there were this many in the whole wide world. Her mother told her she had to behave and stay close. She gripped her mother as hard as she could, Roxanne swung in her other hand.

Her mother and father had many a night arguing in the kitchen about The monsters. That's what Jennifer called them, monsters not infected. She didn’t understand Infection or viruses. But she knew people became monsters by being touched by a monster.

‘Keep calm and keep moving forward, the next train is coming. Soon’ A Police officer called to the crowd, he held a SA80, it wasn’t his. A member of the former 1st Battalion London guards had given him a quick lesson and the weapon before deserting to go find his family.

Jennifer's mother knelt down and adjusted her jacket ‘Now, when the train comes. Make sure to keep hold of my hand and do not let go’ Jennifer nodded and looked at the train rolling into the station. Its windows coated in blood, full of screaming rage.

‘EVERYBODY GET BACK NOW’ the officer called but it wasn’t needed. The train rolled past into the dark void beyond. The train driver was still alive and uninfected. He would guide the train away from the evacuation effort. People stood frozen in panic, the realisation of the infected were in the tube stations now panicked them. But still they waited for the next train.

Red crosses coated the next train that rolled in, soldiers and NHS workers hurriedly worked inside, people lay on makeshift hospital beds and passengers stood in the gaps between. As the doors opened, soldiers called out. ‘Calmly board, there are more trains coming. Please remain calm. There will be room on the next one, Jennifer’s father dragged her and her mother towards the train. Her mother and father pushed forward but they couldn't fit through the pressing masses at the door. Jennifer let go of her mothers hand as she felt a hand pull her. A nurse had reached out and pulled Jennifer onto the train as her parents tried to squeeze in, the crowd was so tightly packed no one could lift their arms. A grinning nurse bent down to Jennifer and pulled out a lolly. Her face changed from a forced smile to terror as the shooting started. From above the infected had come, running down the escalators and diving into the crowd.

‘Close the doors now!’ Soldiers cried out. People on the platform surged forward trying to get on as the doors slammed shut, one by one.

Arms hammered the glass as men and women tried to get on board. Jennifer looked up at the fear filled eyes and screamed ‘Monsters, Mummy Monsters!’ But her mother wasn’t there, she looked around at the panicking patients, Nurses and Soldiers. Her parents weren't on the train. Then she looked to the doors and her mothers red rage eyes met hers. She didn’t see her father, only her mothers eyes. The train could barely be heard over the screams of the crowd.

John

John packed his rucksack with cans of soups, bottles of Sunny D filled with water, spare T shirts, kitchen knives and anything else he thought would be useful. He had changed into his *Armour*, placing the snorkel into his bag. He felt like time was against him, the TV had changed to a different presenter. Based in Northern Ireland, their thick accent calling over evacuation routes, Over and over. Which were open, which were now unsafe.

The country was on the move, someone had finally blown the whistle and everyone raced to the coast, to the airports and the infected followed. The same scenes played out across the country, motorways blocked up, roads gridlocked. The trains fared little better, Transporting large groups of people attracted the infected like moths to a flame. Too many trains inadvertently carried the infection behind the defensive lines set up by the armed forces.

John placed the goggles over his head, he did not feel ready to go outside. He could hear the cars, the running and shouting. He didn't think the infection was here yet but it wouldn't be long.

John opened his front door and ran downstairs, he didn't lock the door to his flat, didn't see the point. The street outside was… empty, the thud of the heavy door behind him made him jump. No one was out here, most of the cars were gone but he couldn't see anyone. John wished he could drive, wished he owned a car as he briskly walked down the street towards the train station.

The first people he saw on the street were a family of 6, the father promptly ushering his family into a large car. John thought about asking for a lift but his social anxiety stopped him. Even in a crisis such as this, he was too anxious to ask strangers for help.

Cars raced past him on the road, everyone heading south. John picked up his pace, people started to walk next to him. People carrying bags, suitcases and children. Police checkpoints lay abandoned, the officers choosing to join the crowds heading south.

John kept increasing his pace, from a brisk walk, to a jog. Others around him did the same, the need to escape pushing them all to run faster. John reached the River wey and took a moment to breathe, as the ducks carelessly moved along the calm current.

The roads near to the trainstation were clogged with people, the once steady flow of humanity now a torrent pouring in from all directions the train station.

There weren't any trains in the station yet, people waited with growing in-patience behind the yellow lines. John stood towards the wall, unable to get closer to the platform edge but he calmed himself. He had made it, the train would be here soon and they could all evacuate.

*Platform 1 for the DELAYED South West train service to portsmouth Harbour*

John climbed up onto a small electrical box, peaking over the heads of the crowd.

Something was wrong, he felt it in his gut, it was telling him to run. Now, get out, now!. The train limped sluggishly to a stop, half the train wasn't on the platform yet. John looked the train up and down, he couldn't see into the train, the windows were dirty and… red… he quickly looked at the front of the train and saw the driver jump out the train, shout something then run down the platform.

His cowardice act doomed hundreds.

The first infected John saw with his own eyes was a man in his 40s, wearing a blue jumper stained with blood. He stumbled out of a train carriage, falling Clumsily to the floor. The people closest to the train screamed, panicked and tried to push back as more infected stumbled out towards them. The people at the back of the crowd couldn't see what was happening at the front. All they could see was the top of the train, their salvation. They pushed forward and those nearest the train pushed back.

John stood frozen, watching the nightmare take shape. Those at the back pinning the crowd against the infected whose numbers are rapidly swelling. John pushed his way right, along the walls and away from the entrance. Crowds of people still poured in, trying to push their way onto the train.

He fought to push himself down the platform till eventually the crowd broke. People near him realising the same escape route now ran down the same direction he was.

John was not a fast runner, he was not athletic but he fucking ran. Fear giving his legs speed and endurance he did not know he possessed. Once clear of the tin roof that covered the platform, John aimed for the Fence. He would climb up the small 4ft fence and over it

He reached and felt his hands graze against barb wire. His gloves saved him from the worst of it, as he pulled himself up and over. A woman grabbed his bag. He glanced backwards and his bladder let go. She was infected, she clawed at him. Her red eyes locked on him.

John shook free, violently side to side while screaming. Finally he escaped her grasp and ran. He crossed the car park just as the crowds outside the station realised the train was not their salvation. As one, it reversed direction and onto the streets of Guildford. John sprinted for home, refusing to look behind him. People were everywhere, he shouted ‘infected, infected' to whoever would listen. People opened their doors, leaving to evacuate and the infection surged in.

John reached his block of flats and hurriedly fumbled for the keys. The front door to the building, a heavy set door always locked behind him. He could hear footsteps getting closer and closer to him. The key resisted then found purchase, John fell through the door slamming it behind him. A moment passed before John sprinted up the stairs, through his front door. Locked it, he ran into his bathroom, it did not have a window to the outside world.

John laid down in his bath, closed his eyes and covered his ears.

He had waited too long.

Normandy Beach - France

French beach goers looked on in awe as the floatilla approached. Hundreds of ships of every size, escorted by a Type 42 destroyer. This was not the first time the British had stormed the beaches of Normandy. Fishing boats, private yachts - of every shape and size. Some beached themselves, people ran onto the beaches as if the infected were still at their backs. Some more sensible drivers stopped in the shallows and people waded the rest of the way in.

French police arrived to find thousands of people now stranded on their beaches and they watched the flotilla sailing back, to bring more.

New York

Blair had been summoned to the UN security council minutes after his broadcast. He had not informed the EU, Nato or any of their allies about the evacuation order. Instead he would force their hand, force them to take action.

An aid had informed him at 1am that the blockades in north london had begun to fall. They had simply run out of bullets, the never ending tide of rage washed over their positions and now ran freely into the streets of the capital.

Train drivers were pulled out of bed, news presenters given briefs with mere moments to take in the information before going live and Printing presses across the UK, all chanted the same word.

Evacuation

Newspapers from 28 days later film. Polished and date changed

Leaflet from 28 days later film and refugee one generated using CHATGPT

Stock images from Google.

What would your message say. Where would you of gone, where would you meet them?

What would your message be?

For Day 1 if you aren't aware of this series. https://www.reddit.com/r/28dayslater/s/ekA1ZfwTVE

I will be making a index of all days soon.

Dave the map man has been rehired on a temporary basis by the Evening Standard

Day 11

New York

Tony Blair's plane touched down in JFK Airport, in the early hours of Sunday morning. The plane was overloaded, People sat on the floor in the aisles and every seat was full. Children sat on their parents laps. British Airways weren't charging people for departing flights anymore, after a hasty nationalisation by his government. All flight costs would be put ‘On the country credit card as it were’

He only brought two security guards with him on the flight, opting to allow evacuees to take the places of his usual full security team. Blair was given departing priority, everyone staying in their seats allowing him to get off the plane first. He passed a tired looking pilot, the man hadn't slept in 48 hours and was getting ready to go back after he refueled.

Inside the JFK terminal was a small city, people. His people, he realised, filled every hallway, bench, thoroughfare and gate. The Americans weren't sure what to do with the newly arrived masses and due to deadlock in Congress. They remained in limbo.

The American red cross and Fema handed out aid, food and blankets. Long lines waited to speak to overwhelmed immigration officers. The bureaucracy of it all was mind numbing, these people needed to be moved, he mumbled to himself. He hoped to move the Americans, the world into action.

Britain needed aid, her people shelter and her army reinforcement. Blair had come to talk to the UN. He would not leave until he got the help he sought.

Tony Blair stood in the United Nations Security Council chambers. Sweating profusely, he hadn't slept in days and he looked 10 years older a mere 11 days had aged him dramatically.

‘Reports say that nearly a million people have fled from the UK. We need to ensure the virus does not spread to our shores’ The French representative said.

Tony Blair stood to address the gathered representatives. ‘The infected can't swim, if we just….’ Blair is cut off by the Russian representative.

‘There needs to be a quarantine of the Island. No one in, no one out. If just one person infected with the virus crosses the channel…’

Blair stood up again and raised his voice lightly ‘Transmission of the virus is instant, there wouldn't be a chance of something infected sneaking onto an evacuation…’ The American representative cut him off. Tony sat down again, seething with anger.

"We lost a lot of good men in Essex, our bases were overrun before they could be fully evacuated. Our advisors tell us, this may be impossible to contain on the mainland’

Tony stood again ‘We've successfully erected barricades in London and in the north around Liverpool and Manchester. We just don't have enough troops but if Nato were to’... Again he was interrupted by the American representative.

"We can't commit troops on the ground without jeopardizing our position in Asia and the Middle East. We are already having to take over areas left by British troops'. Tony attempted to cut in but again was spoken over.

‘Europe can't bear the cost of millions of refugees fleeing the United Kingdom. Where would we house them, how would we feed them? And not to mention the risk of infection!’ The French representative exclaimed.

Blair felt it then, Britain's influence, her power, her relationships, her allies. They were all fading. Its voice slowly being strangled. The sun would finally set on the empire it seemed.

Blair wasn't sure if it was stress, lack of sleep or the overwhelming fear in his heart. He snapped.

‘MOST OF THE POPULATION ARE STILL UNINFECTED. WE NEED YOUR HELP. WE NEED SHIPS, PLANES AND MANPOWER’

Blair held his chest gasping. ‘Britain defended you in your darkest hour’ he pointed at the French officials. A small Tricolour Flag standing proud in front of them. ‘We answered your call for help when you," he pointed at the American representative, 'when you were so tragically attacked a few mere blocks away from where we sit!’ Blair's fist hit the table.

The room fell silent only broken by the Irish representative. Green, white and Orange symbolising unity displayed proudly on their flag. ‘The people of Ireland will help however we can. The ports in Wales, Liverpool and Scotland can begin sending refugees I'm sure our allies’ He looked pointedly at the American and French officials. ‘ Our allies will send whatever assistance they can spare’.

Tony Blair stood and walked out.

John

John sat watching BBC News, the presenter stood in front of a map of the UK and John's heart sunk. Most of the Midlands were coloured in red and a good portion of London now had contested red stripes across it. The infection had now surrounded London from the north and moved west around the sprawling city.

‘This is the estimated spread of the Infection, the areas in Red are infected zones. If you are inside of these areas. You are advised to remain silent and in your home. Do not go outside under any circumstances. If you are forced outside. Avoid contact with the infected, remember the infection takes less than 20 seconds. I will repeat, you will have 20 seconds or less to act’

The presenter nervously looked left, like there was a new presence in the room and continued ‘If someone in your family or group you are sheltering with gets infected. You must get away from them and quarantine them immediately’

‘20 seconds’ John repeated. ‘How far could you run in 20 seconds’.

The presenter angrily shook her head and with sharp eyes focused on the camera. ‘At this time, there has been no order to evacuate but in my personal opinion if you can lea…’ The power shut off

John groaned. That was the fifth time today the power had shut off and each time it took a little longer to come back. John thought back to the presenter's words. Was she about to tell people to leave, to evacuate?.

More of John's neighbours had left during the night, their car spaces empty, their front doors locked for the final time and acting as time capsules never to be opened.

John wondered where he would go if he had to evacuate. He had no family, no home in the country to retreat too and no car to flee in. He went to his book case and found the ordnance survey maps he picked up from god knows where. He found the pages he needed and ran his finger from Guildford to Portsmouth, Guildford to Dover, Guildford to Torquay, Guildford to London.

London has so many airports, if I go to London. I could get the train from Guildford, his finger followed the train line past Woking to London Waterloo. Then jump on the tube to Heathrow. This wasn't the best route there but it was familiar to John. He had been before.

John had bunked a train before, he would again. The flight and lack of passport. He would figure out on route. John hesitated as the escape plan formulated in his head. The what ifs, lack of money, passport and social awkwardness plagued him.

John decided he would leave on Wednesday. He got paid jobseekers on a Wednesday and would use that money to fund his escape. The passport he would figure out at Heathrow

Luton Airport.

Tens of thousands of people swamped Luton Airport, the army had pulled out hours ago. Soldiers either jumped ship on passenger planes themselves or moved north taking as many people as their vehicles could carry.

Local radios had broadcast hours ago that there will be no more flights out of Luton. That all aircraft had been moved to other airports. Most had either not heard the radio or had come anyway in vain hope. Someone would be there they hoped. People still queued, it was the end of the world in their minds but they still formed queues. They queued for locked doors, they queued for abandoned ticket counters and they queued for gate 23.

Gate 23 had the only airplane in the airport, a British Airways 747 red tail visible from the terminal window. People stood on a rug of currency, pound notes, dollars and newly printed euros. More waved above the crowd, people shaking their life's worth desperate bribes for the airport staff who tried to keep order.

Captain Jason Andrews stood on a kiosk shouting to the top of his lungs. ‘Children and one parent only!’. Outside on the tarmac, fuel crews refueled a plane they knew they wouldn't be boarding.

The crowd surged, pushing forward towards the gate. People shouted, screamed and pushed each other. Some toppled over, being trampled underfoot. Outside, on the tarmac people began appearing from everywhere running for the plane.

The plane sat ready on the tarmac, the only pilot capable of flying her stuck inside the airport. Watching helplessly as the crowd grew desperate.

The infected were in the terminal, the distant screams and thunderous roar of an entire city's population descending on them. The sound was deafening.

Jason and the other flight crew ran through the gate hundreds followed, swelling the small hallway until no one could move. People cried out as they were crushed against the walls and doors that needed to be pulled, not pushed.

The infection spread like wild fire, the tightly pressed crowds the perfect delivery system. Still they ran for the gate and its now blocked hallway. The mass of people began to climb over each other. Bodies living, dead and even infected coated the floor in a sickening soft squishy living rug.

Jason rammed his way through the security doors onto the tarmac, people were everywhere, everyone running for the same target. The plane, as he ran he picked up a lone girl crying for her mother and hoisted her onto his shoulder.

He looked on in horror at the large terminal windows, there were thousands of people contained in a space meant for a few hundred. A horrific mosh pile, 3 to 4 bodies deep in places. People crawled over each other, climbing or dragging those in front of them down to climb on. Their faces, god their faces he thought. Pressed against the glass in a sea of hands, feet and limbs. Trapped, unable to move as the infection swept in.

Sprinting across the last few yards of tarmac, he reached the stairs to the plane. He pushed and shoved climbing as fast as his tired legs would carry him.

His head stewardess greeted him at the door, her face white as death. ‘Close the door now he barked’ he turned, almost throwing the crying child to another passenger.

People filed up the stairs into the plane, the stewardresses fought against the tide of humanity piling through the small entrance. They saw glimpses of people being tackled, of the infected now coming their way. The stairs were clogged with so many desperate souls, trying to get into the aircraft that they buckled and collapsed sideways. Ripping away the blockade of people from the doors.

The crew refused to look down as the doors closed. They didn't want to see those they left behind.

Jason skipped most of the checks and went straight to starting the plane. Out of habit he radioed the tower asking for departure but got no reply.

Slowly she moved down the taxiway, thousands of people both infected and uninfected surrounded the plane. Running after it as if they had a chance of boarding it. Jason tried not to think about the position of the tires and what lay beneath.

A deathly silence hit as the plane took off, the heavily overloaded plane struggling to gain altitude. The passengers let out a breath they collectively held.

They headed South East, for Europe and safety she offered.

Closure

Becky stood in the lines at Dover, her train which had originally departed Chelmsford. Finished its journey in Stratford, a few bewildered looking squadies watched in sheer amazement as the train rolled into the station.

Those that had seen the infected in the flesh. Left the country as soon as they could, because unlike those who hesitated watching their TVs at home. They knew, they knew the wave of rage was coming and that there would be no stopping it. They knew to get the hell out of Britain, before it was too late.

Becky held Felix close, as she inched closer to the ferry. Grinning royal marines sat above in raised positions and some walked through the crowd. They observed the crowd while tormenting each other. They weren't asking for passports or tickets. Instead they just waved them through.

Once the ferry set off, Becky stood on the deck. Looking for the last time at the White cliffs of Dover.

Felix finally let out a mighty Yeow.

John

As the sun set, John doubled locked his door. He didn't feel safe anymore after that news report. Seeing the map, noting it was creeping closer and closer to him.

He thought of Raj, Raj was probably already in Germany, already safe and not worrying about the infection.

He thought of Arthur, was he right to leave so early?

John dreamt of empty streets, everyone was gone and only he remained. He dreamt of searching footsteps, getting closer and coming for him.

Hello all, Day 12 might be delayed a little while. I typed this up in a hosiptal waiting room last night. Having a family emergency with my father.

My apologies if this isn't as good as the other releases my mind has been elsewhere.

Thank you

Newspaper generated by CHATGPT as well as one of the leaflets.

One leaflet is from the film.

Photos from Google.

Edit

Day 12 will be delayed for an undetermined amount of time. My father's cancer has returned and theres nothing they can do. I will make more, just can't get into the mindset needed.

Day 1 if you've missed it

https://www.reddit.com/r/28dayslater/s/l9EICsBure

Day 10

On the 10th day of the outbreak, emergency services started to buckle and fall apart. The estimated number of the infected was in the millions. The death toll was estimated to be in the tens of thousands.

Still the government called for calm, still they claimed the situation was in hand. Even as there was an exodus of people fleeing away from the infected.

John didn't sleep, he couldn't sleep. He just sat and watched the pitch darkness outside his windows all night. He watched the candles light as the sun dimmed, he watched as the curtains closed and people turned in for the night.

John's nightmares had gotten worse. He dreamt of red eyes and rage. People chased him, cornering him and waking only moments before they claimed him.

John rolled onto his side and looked at his alarm clock, it was a simple wind up clock and the only thing in his flat that worked without power he mused. 6.32am, that had to be late enough for the local corner shop to be open. John dressed, grabbed his wallet and looked at his 'Armour'.

John suited up, deciding against wearing goggles and the snorkel outside at this time. John pulled on his thick rain coat and an extra pair of jogging bottoms. He would wear his patchwork of armour but he didn't want to be seen wearing it.

John was as quiet as a man could possibly be, wearing what felt like 10kgs of clothing. Creeping through the hallway and down the stairs. He slowly approached the front door, its heavy bulk squeaking as he slowly opened the door leading into his small block of flats.

It felt like any normal morning, he silently remarked. The air was cool, birds sang and the first few rays of warmth from the sun hit his face.

God he was sweating already.

If it was any other time, it could be considered a beautiful morning. There wasn't any traffic, nor the sound of distant cars that he was used to. John could hear his own clumsy footsteps and cringed at the volume. He could swear curtains twitched as he passed houses.

Nervous eyes watched him as he passed through the empty streets and alleyways. John's heart was beating like he was running a marathon. He nervously fiddled with the contents of his pockets, keys jingled and his wallet was a comforting presence against his thigh.

All John had was a £5 note. The queen's face, telling him to Keep Calm and Carry On. His original plan was to top up his electric key but given it was off most of the time and he hadn't used his emergency yet. He figured he would use it to buy food.

The front door to the corner shop was ajar, held open by a milk crate. John slowly entered the dimly lit shop. Something smelled off about the shop, John figured it was the contents of the freezers spoiling or…

'Raj?' John called out, pausing to listen for a reply. After a moment he called again, this time louder. 'Hello? Hello Raj you here?' The eerie silence that followed unnerved John. But suddenly the silence was broken by hurried footsteps coming his way.

John stepped back, the hair on his neck standing to attention. He should have brought a weapon, why didn't he pick something up. A bat, a knife. John looked left and right, only snacks and magazines surrounded him. He started to panic to back away towards the entrance, the light outside promising safety when a figure slowly emerged from the darkness. John watched the shadow move, his entire body tensing ready to bolt out the door.

In his mind's eye, he pictured Raj, red eyed and rage filled. Coming to kill him or worse to turn him. John took a few hesitant steps towards the door.

'Hello John, should you really be out right now?' Raj said, stepping out holding a box of obviously melted ice creams. John hadn't realised he was holding his breath and replied 'Christ Raj, you scared the shit out of me' Raj chuckled loudly and nodded his approval for John to enter.

John quickly went around the shop, talking to Raj over the aisles as he picked up Sunny D, super noodles, toilet roll and more soup. John noticed the latest Evening Standard newspaper but opted not to buy it.

He placed his items on the checkout and Raj shook his head. Holding up the Sunny D. ‘You're the only one who buys this… What even is this?’’ Raj looked at the bottle frowning. ‘It's my favourite drink’ John grinned back. He liked Raj, he was always kind to John and let him run a tab a few times between Dole Days.

'We're leaving John' Raj remarked as he bagged the items. 'I'm taking my wife and my children to my cousin's place in Germany. We are going to wait this out there. You're lucky you came this morning, you will be my last customer until we return'.

John nodded and asked 'Do you really think that's wise, what about your shop Raj?'. Raj smiled warmly, 'These are all material things John, they can be replaced.... they're also insured' Raj winked. Raj picked up a few extra items and put them in John's bag. A chomp bar, a packet of embassy number 1s and a lighter.

Raj refused payment and handed John his bag and walked him to the exit. The Sun has just started to peak over the buildings, casting Raj in a holy ray of Sunny D gold. 'John’ he said, turning to him, ' look after yourself and for god's sake be careful’. John stepped onto the pavement outside the shop and turned. He met Raj's concerned eyes. A moment passed between them as Raj moved the crate of ice cream and locked the door.

'Thanks' was all John could bring himself to say as Raj locked the door. The walk home was uneventful, a few cars passed him looking like they had packed an entire household on the roof.

John's mind wandered on his walk home, what if Raj was infected. What if the infection hit Guildford?

John looked around and pictured it. He imagined what would happen to this peaceful residential street, the doors broken in, windows smashed and blood on the pavement.

John shook the thought from his head. John couldn't accept what was happening in London, his rationale was that it was miles away.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Brentwood - Behind the line

She had hidden in her closet all night, listening to the sounds of her neighbours screaming and dying. She heard the pleas of family members begging there would be attackers to stop. She Flinched at every crack of broken glass, at every pound on the wood and plasterboard walls. She could hear it all in her home.

Becky lived alone, just her and her black and white cat. She held her cat Felix close to her chest silently crying and utterly paralysed by fear. The infected were in the streets outside, in her neighbours homes. She prayed they didn't break into her home. Becky should have left earlier, should have listened to her mum but she had to come back for Felix. She wouldn't leave him.

As the sun began to set, the screams died down, the sounds of infected calmed into the odd sound here and there. Felix, sensing the threat, stayed quiet, he was usually a loud and proud beast. He loved to Yeow to his heart's content.

But now, they both listened. Becky forced herself to slowly open the closet door and placed Felix down leaving him inside their ‘safe’ hiding place. She crawled on her hands and knees towards the window. Careful not to draw attention to herself, Becky moved the curtain and peaked outside.

It was pitch black, no street lights, no moon to light the way. She could faintly hear what she assumed was the infected but she wasn't sure as couldn't see them.

Becky lived a brisk 5 minute walk away from the train station. She had to leave, she couldn't stay here. Her anxiety levels sky rocketted at the thought of leaving but she knew if she stayed they'd find her.

'Shhh shhh shhh' she said to Felix, soothing him and lifting him gently. "We've got to go," her voice cracked and broke. She was holding back tears, the lump in her throat ached as she hugged Felix to her chest.

Numbness hit her as she stepped onto the street, she was having a full blown anxiety attack as she took step after quiet step down the dark street. She didn't look around; she ignored the broken glass on the floor or the movement in the corner of her eyes coming from the dark shadows surrounding the homes on the street. Instead she put her head down and just walked on pure muscle memory towards the station. Felix didn't move, he didn't make a peep, instead choosing to bury his head into her shoulder.

She couldn't see much as she walked gingerly down the street, every noise spooked her. She wanted to sprint, to cry, to scream out and to crouch into a ball.

She froze in the street, she heard footsteps approaching. She stopped still, held her breath and didn't move. She became a statue as two infected sprinted past right in front of her. Their arms waving wildly. But by a sheer stroke of luck, they didn't see her.

Hyperventilating now, she shook violently holding Felix close to her chest. Tears flowed freely now, soaking her cheeks and landing on Felix.

As she crept around the corner she saw the emergency lighting, dimly illuminating parts of the trainstation, powered by batteries soon to die.

The doors to the station were open, she walked silently through the building, biting her lip as her feet crushed pieces of paper and litter. She thanked whatever god that listened when she noticed the ticket barriers were open.

The platform was empty, not a soul in sight and no signs of infected nearby. Becky felt the lump in her throat expand, it felt like she wouldn't be able to breathe soon. Her heart hammered.

She wondered what she was doing here, there were no trains coming through Brentwood, she missed her chance to leave. She sobbed openly, her quiet cries echoing over the empty platform.

Felix stirred and began to growl, instinct told Becky that the infected were coming. They knew she was here, Becky walked to the end of the platform and sat on a bench. She shook as she hugged Felix to her chest and cried.

'Please, please' she begged. Felix's growls and fearful meows grew more insistent and he wiggled trying to get free. 'It's okay' she cried, placing her head into his thick coat.

The ground shook as they approached, Becky calmed Felix as he squirmed. 'Shhh, I'm here. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry'. Lost in her own breakdown she didn't hear the train wheels screeching to a stop. Nor the conductor as he shouted 'Oi love, you getting on or what!'. Becky looked up and saw a single carriage, its light a beacon of hope in the dark. A few survivors from Chelmsford had hidden inside the old train and their would-be train driver had managed to get the diesel engine to start.

'Get on!' The man shouted, Becky didn't hesitate as she stepped into the small cabin. There were around 20 people tightly cramped in the carriage, all looking at her nervously.

'I don't have a ticket'. They all laughed at that as the train set off. The infected finally came sprinting through the doors of the station, seeing only the red lights rolling away from them.

Becky had a severe fear of trains but today. She loved them.

‐-----------

The infection was spreading uncontrollably in every direction. In the north, the sparsely populated Lincolnshire wolds had slowed them but not stopped their deadly advance.

In the west

Leicester, Coventry and Nottingham had early reports of infection. The garrisoned blockades outside Leicester had managed to throw back infected but as with other areas. The infection would slip past and behind. Out-flanking them.

In the south

The infection had run into two barriers. The river Thames and London itself. London had an extremely large population but was spread over a large area. The infected advanced but due to the lockdown, barricades and newly formed ‘safe zones’. Their advance had slowed considerably.

These fortified safe zones had strict area commanders, emergency stations and volunteer patrols. Newly printed posters had been scattered everywhere, posted through letter boxes and given to emergency workers. The MET, working with the armed forces, made a last attempt to hold off the infection.

Some areas had more success than others, St Annes Church which had featured on a BBC program was a prime example of an emergency shelter. Hundreds sheltered the ancient church. Safe in the knowledge, the army was on guard. The local priest had asked the MET to step in to stop people from drawing on the walls.

The priest remarked that someone had wrote "REPENT THE END IS EXTREMELY FUCKING NIGH". Above the stairway.

SGS Oakhanger

‘The bombing of the Queen Elizabeth bridge was a mistake. We are cut off from flanking the infections advance into London’. A grey bearded man sighed and replied. ‘London is going to fall. Our makeshift defenses will start to crumple soon’.

The men talked into the night, discussing battleplans, evacuation of VIPs and potential zones of deployment for their dwindling reserves.

‘We should evacuate Birmingham northwards, try to establish new lines around Liverpool and Manchester’.

‘What about the people south of the lines?’

‘Give the advice for areas nearer to the frontline to move or to stay in their homes’

‘Any word from Blair?’

‘He's on the plane to New York, something about strumming up American support but if you ask me. He wants an ocean between him and the infection’

‘’The American sixth fleet is in the channel’

‘Are they offering to help?’

‘They're evacuating their own citizens. Most countries in the world have advised their citizens to leave’.

‘God help us’

Hello, sorry for the delay

Day 1 if this is the first youve seen.

https://www.reddit.com/r/28dayslater/s/l9EICsBure

Day 9

It started around 2 or 3am. A few of John's neighbours packed up the car and headed for the open road. Some had holiday homes in Wales and Scotland. But most went to the airports and docks.

Planning to buy their way onto a ship or onto a plane.

John didn't wake as one by one his neighbours fled, packing up and going into the night. This scene was being repeated across England. Those in Wales and Scotland believed they were far enough away and did not need to take action. This was an ‘English problem' they said. They'd soon get their house in order.

The airports for now, were still allowing limited travel but every flight was fully booked. The carparks around Gatwick and Heathrow were full. People just abandoned them to the side of the road and walked the rest of the way. Crowds of people waited in lines, waited to speak to nervous airline advisors who themselves felt the urge to flee.

The royal engineers who watched over the small exodus, did not intervene. They watched the crowd intensely, scanning for signs of infection.

Approximate estimates put the number of people that have fled the British isles to around 120,000. This was with non stop flights, ferries now being packed to capacity and long lines forming at terminals.

120,000 out of an estimated 57 million. In the highest echelons of the British government they knew. They knew only a portion of the British population could be evacuated. But no mass exodus had been ordered yet.

Some feared ordering evacuation would further spread the infection. Some hoped the infection would burn itself out. Some hoped a vaccine or cure could be found, they wished for a final miracle.

The world watched as thousands fled for their shores, American and Canadian airports had now enacted travel restrictions on British arrivals. Strict quarantine and segregation away from the wider population.

European countries were split, countries like Germany, Poland and Spain. Welcomed the newly coming British refugees but France. The French understood that only 26 miles separated them from UK shores. There was no land connection except for the tunnel.

John

John paced his flat, it was 10am and the power still wasn't on. He needed news, needed to know what was happening out there. When he looked outside, he noticed with growing horror that at least a third of the cars were missing. Some of his neighbours had fled during the night it seemed.

While John was trying to figure out how to heat up his soup without the use of electricity. The power came back on, lights and the dull buzz of his fridge filled his silent flat. John put down the can of soup and marched up to his TV.

ITV and Channel 4 were no longer broadcasting. John flicked through channel after channel and found that. Most had stopped or were running reruns of old programs. BBC one and BBC two had both become news channels, the only difference was the presenters.

‘They're not in London’ John whispered. He was right, the BBC were reporting from their offices in Cardiff and Edinburgh. Neither did they mention London. Instead they spoke about Manchester, Liverpool and Birmingham. Military blockades were being set up and locations of aid stations.

John felt sick to his stomach and went to his cupboards. Not out of hunger but out of habit. His meager supplies were running out, tomorrow he decided.

‘Tomorrow I'll go to the shops’

London

The infected were everywhere in the north of London. The army and the MET barricaded every road, pathway and tunnel they could. London's layout was chaotic as was its defense.

The infected had reached the river Thames east of London. Those unable to get west behind the lines went to the rivers edge. A desperate hope that someone or something would be there to help.

Boats of every kind went back and forth. Dozens of small boats ferried people across the Thames, evacuating those they could out of harm's way.

The infected chased people into the murky waters and onto boats still tied to the waterfront. With little option, some people tried to swim across the mighty expanse of water. The infected followed, grappling onto people like barnacles. Dragging them below.

Tilbury Fort

Tilbury Fort, an impressive and formidable star shaped fortress. In the days of old, she was used to defend the mouth of the Thame against would be invaders and now It was a temporary staging area for the military. Their failed attempt at holding the line east of London.

History had been kind to Tilbury Fort, she had never seen a siege but she had been called upon to serve. Her high brick walls and gates are ready.

The residents surrounding Tilbury fort were cut off by the relentless and rapid advance of the infection. Unable to flee west towards the Queen Elizabeth 2 bridge or onto London. Many hid in their homes, others tried to cross across the Thames and some gave up.

The rate of suicides in the UK had skyrocketed, it was highest behind the lines. Where people were trapped in their homes.

Others looked to the fortress, her old walls gave promise of safety.

At Tilbury Fort, Hundreds huddled behind the walls. Walls. that stood guard against invasion for nearly 500 years, they answered the call from a desperate nation to guard her people once again.

Inside there was a small camp of green tents sprawled across the courtyard, both military and civilian vehicles.

Even a fully operational helicopter, its pilot missing. People jostled for seats on the helicopter, its cold engine taunting them with escape.

‘We have to seal the gates!’ A desperate man called, he wore a hi vis vest and had clearly ran all the way from the Tilbury Docks. Cars, buses and bikes lay abandoned as close to the fort as people could get. Still the crowds came, desperate pleas for them to wait. Soldiers, who had either deserted their units or had been cut off from the rapid advance of the infected, took position along the walls. Their numbers were few, others began to stand alongside them. Holding metal bars, bats, kitchen knives and air rifles.

‘Infected!’ One of the men cried out, pointing to the back of the crowd. A clear gap between the now emerging infected and the slowest of the survivors. People began shouting and screaming. ‘Run faster!’ ‘Come on!’. Their voices carried and gave speed to the last few outside the walls. ‘Get them inside now!’ A voice of command voice called. ‘I want these gates sealed as soon as the last person is inside!’

He was not a member of the military, not anymore. He was 63 years old, he had fought in the Falklands, Middle east and Africa. His nerve had been hammered into steel on the anvil of war. His voice cracked the air like a whip. ‘If you can fight, get to the gates or the walls. Understand this, if they get inside we are all dead!’ People hesitated and he continued ‘To arms, grab anything you can use as a weapon and move!’.

Men and women rose, old and young. The beat of the footsteps sounded like a drumbeat in the heat of battle. Parents kissed their children and told their families they loved them and took up arms, quickly heading to defensive positions around the fort. The elderly and children herded towards the old barracks.

The gates slammed shut just as the infected reached the walls, the garrison who had occupied this fort until recently had hastily used excavators to pull back the mounds of earth. Meaning you couldn't just walk up the bank onto the walls, they had inadvertently saved the lives of those inside.

Still the infected came, Hundreds of them now poured down the path from the car park. Rifles rose to meet them as shots from the walls rang out. Too few in the infected hoard fell, People threw bricks, stones and whatever else they could find. The crowds outside the walls swelling like an angry sea.

Desperate hands trying to claw their way in.

The gates held, they held under the mass of rage now pressing against them. They creaked and groaned but they held firm.

On the other closest gate, usually used as a side entrance for vehicles in the modern age. Metal sheets had been placed against the wood, hiding the inside from view. Two large trucks had also been reversed into them, ensuring they would not open.

‘Hold your fire!’ a man called. And as one, people did, the walls fell silent as everyone looked down. Infected hands and arms reached up to them but unable to reach and unable to climb.

The fort had been well stocked before the army pulled out food, weapons and tents. In classic military fashion, there was enough food here to feed a thousand for weeks if not months.

‘They can't get in’ the old commander called. There was no cheer of victory or sigh of relief. Just the unsaid realisation, the thought travelled along the walls and into the courtyard behind them.

We can't get out either.

Queen Elizabeth bridge

Corporal Jerkins had never seen such panic. The entire bridge was blocked with cars, the checkpoint on the south side was gunning down anyone or anything that moved. The infected were reported nearby but they still had time to evacuate more people. Jenkins took cover behind a black taxi while he screamed down his radio.

‘There are still people back here, hold your fucking fire!’. His pleas went unanswered. Glancing to the West, the towering presence of the London skyline loomed large and inviting.

‘I say again! There are’. his words cut off as a bright flash followed by thunderous roar ripped through the air. One moment the bridge stood, the next it was engulfed in flames and smoke. Then he was moving, thrown back against the concrete barrier behind him. A secondary explosion shook the ground beneath him.

Looking to the sky he saw them, two jets and cursed them. The RAF had finally been given the order to begin bombing but not the infected areas. They had been ordered to slow the spread by any means necessary.

The air had left his lungs, his vision was fading to black, he could hear nothing but ringing as he struggled to move. The bridge was gone, a perfect strike. His dulled eyes rolled out over the road. Bodies lay everywhere, a woman approached him.

She crawled slowly towards him, her blue scrubs clearly marked her as a doctor, a nurse. He felt relief, someone had come to help him. Her face rose slowly over his, he didn't notice her red eyes or the fury behind them.

Jerkins didn't feel her fists beat against him or the warm blood she spat into his face, his eyes… his mouth.

Dartford tunnel.

The tunnel was pitch black, lit only by the headlights of cars. The air was thick with dust and smoke.

People step out of their car, holding tissues, cloths and rags to their mouths. Moments ago there had been daylight ahead but now, only rubble. People cried out in pain and shock. Not a single infected made it into the tunnel.

It is estimated that between 50 to 200 people were inside the tunnel when the entrances were purposefully collapsed by a retreating military.

There would be no rescue crew to dig them out. It would be their tomb

Day 8.

24 hours after martial law had been declared a state of emergency soon followed. Emergency powers given to the UK government and military.

An Epidemic was officially declared at the WHO (World Health Organisation)

Evacuation of essential personnel had been authorised. Northern Ireland would play host to parliament in the coming days. All evacuations were carried out in secret.

North London became a war zone. The army was holding for now, but requests for reinforcement and ammunition were mounting. Mass graves were planned for the infected. Clean up crews wearing full hazmat, were seen all over north London, collecting and piling bodies awaiting disposal. No one was allowed near the disposal sites due to the fear of spreading disease or infection. Heavy machinery such as Telehandlers, Loading shovels and excavators had been drafted into the disposal effort.

The sound of battle drew the infected, the infected, once seen outside their windows caused residents to panic and flee Thus adding to the chaos.

A crowd of around 200 were gunned down in Romford. Fear, fear was killing people by the thousand across the UK. The massacre in Romford had been caused by desperation. When the military had blockaded a street near the train station. So that trains, now converted by red cross volunteers into rolling triage units. Could start ferrying desperately needed aid to people considered vulnerable or wounded by the fighting.

However, sadly, the infected did not leave many if any wounded.

in the silence of the city under lockdown. People assumed the sound of approaching trains were the awaited evacuation and spilled onto the streets. Afraid to be left behind and needing to get out first. Only a few braved the streets at first, then dozens and finally hundreds of people flooded into the streets surrounding the train station.

Anger, fear and urgency filled the crowd. People shouted, pleaded with the soldiers who in turn pleaded with people to return to their homes. A man threw his shoe in anger, it impacted harmlessly into the kevlar helmet of a soldier, part of the solid wall of shields and rifles.

Instinct and training kicked in as he raised his SA80. In a nervous reflex his finger found the trigger. The woman in front of him screamed, fearful of the weapon and the crowd erupted.

People pushed, punched and began to trample each other. Somebody yelled ‘Infected, there's an infected!’ The reply was 7.62mm bullets. They ripped through flesh, bone, brick and glass. All around the street, people fell, no one could hear the pleas to ‘hold fire’. The chain cracks of rifles echoed throughout the city streets.

When the firing finally stopped, hundreds lay injured or dying.

There were no infected in the crowd, those in command claimed there had been and felt justified in their actions.

The streets of North London were riddled with bodies. Both infected and uninfected. Hospitals were evacuating, schools turned into temporary barracks and local offices lay empty. The city which has roared both day and night. Had a new sound. Battle, gunshots, cries of pain and the screams of infection.

The streets of Guildford were silent, during the night the electricity had been cut as part of the movement to reduce the strain on the national grid. It came back around 8am, without fanfare or cheer.

Water pressure had also been reduced, John noted. BBC news had been reporting that due to supply chains being under pressure. Certain amenities would have to be rationed. Power would be cut off every night at 8pm, water pressure was expected to be reduced and local authorities were asking for volunteers to help form neighbourhood watch crews.

The usual warnings about how to report infection, keeping clear of them and the ongoing emergency.

‘Flight prices at British Airways have been reported to have spiked in price by at least 400%. Government ministers have commented saying that today they will be implementing strict anti price gouging controls on flights exiting the UK’

John scratched his head and pondered. He didn't have a passport. Nor the money to pay for a flight, if he followed Arthur and went to France. They definitely would have turned him away at Dover.

Around the reporter who stood at Gatwick Airport, rows and rows of barricades, sandbags and machine gun emplacements. The royal engineers had been tasked with fortifying the airports. ‘Fuck’ John muttered as he realised there were even tanks!.

There was an extremely heavy military presence at Gatwick. Given the disaster at London Stansted Airport. They weren't going to make the same mistake.

‘We can also confirm that crossings at Dover through the tunnel and ferry services have risen exponentially. French officials were asked to comment on this but declined at this time’.

‘The country's supposed to be in lockdown but they're still letting people leave’ John mused.

John decided today would be a productive day, he would prepare. Prepare to stay and prepare to leave. He wasn't brave enough to risk breaking lockdown but if the call went out. He wanted to be able to evacuate as soon as possible. Some part of John hoped the government would announce the all clear soon but each hour that voice in the back of his head. It grew louder and louder.

First John found his old rucksack, 2 pairs of socks, underwear, shirt and jeans. He packed these items in first, then looked around the flat.

Did he actually own anything useful? He swore he had a torch but god knows where. He didn't have any survival gear, no maps and barely any tools. What he did have however, was a wind up radio. ‘Carboot bargain’ he stuffed it into the bag.

John placed the bag by the front door, ready for him to be picked up. It sat below his absolutely ridiculous suit of armour, hanging uselessly on a coat hook.

John looked up, not at the ceiling but through it. Arthur… Arthur always went on about his trips abroad, his experience working in combat zones and natural disaster zones. I'd be willing to bet he's got some sweet gear up there. John again looked at his armour and sighed.

‘Looks like im going out tonight’

Boston. The River Witham.

Everyone south of the river Witham was ordered north. The town council, with the assistance of a few military units. Had barricaded the Bridges across, with buses, trailers, tractors, Tables and chairs from local pubs. People poured out of their homes, assisting in whatever way they could.

The infected could not swim, that was where the general idea of barricading the bridges came from. They could stop the advance northwards here.

‘We should blow the bridges up’ Terry Taylor, the local councillor exclaimed. ‘We blow them up and the river Witham will do the rest’. Across the table stood Sergeant Rob Stevens of the royal Anglian regiment. Also known as the Steelbacks.

‘Don't you think if we had them, we'd have used them’. He groaned, rubbing his eyes. For 3 days now. The Steelbacks had been fighting a retreat from the outskirts of Peterborough. They barely slept, as they attempted to evacuate villages leading north.

‘Start moving people north of the river away, tell them to head to York or even beyond it’.

‘What!’ Terry exclaimed. ‘And leave our homes to be looted? Ridiculous!’

Stevens slowly drew circles with grime stricken hands on his temples. 3 days, his men were reaching breaking point and still the infected were only a few steps behind them.

*Crack* The first shot rang out, the infected had come. Sergeant Stevens ran out of the cafe turned meeting room, down the street and towards the sounds of battle.

His men stood on top of buses, trailers, cars and whatever the hell else they could find. Firing down on the infected. Only a few here and there, like a leaking tap they spilled out. The gunfire he knew would draw more of them. How much of the other side of the river was evacuated, how many people had been turned and now came against them.

Did they have enough bullets, he asked himself knowing the answer all too well.

A wail sounded out, louder and louder. Its intensity is growing. ‘My god’ Stevens ran for St. Botolph's Church. The town councillor the fool had started the siren system, in an attempt to alert the residents nearby. To warn them against the threat now attempting to cross into Witham. He might as well have rung the dinner bell.

Dozens rushed the bridge now, straight into the steady single shot fire of the Steelbacks. For everyone that fell, the infected took a step closer and closer. The siren called out to them, drawing in hundreds now. Echoing across the fields, the infected came. The first to reach the barricade was a young woman. Her clothes were torn and bloody. She reached up attempting to drag herself up and over the cars. She was met with a boot to the face.

The church doors slammed open as Stevens ran inside. People huddled together inside the old stone walls. Praying, begging and shaking with fear. Terry stood, desperately flicking switches. ‘It won't turn off, it won't turn off!’ He screamed out.

Stevens nearly flattened the councillor as he ran into him. His natural bulk and heavy equipment added to his weight. Stevens reached up and pulled the main breaker. Silencing, the wail cut short. ‘Do you have any idea what you've just done!’ Stevens shouted, pinning the man.

‘They're crossing the river!’ A woman screamed. Stevens went back outside the church and his stomach sank.

The Witham river usually was 6ft deep and wide enough he thought the infected would not be able to cross. But they were verging on declaring a drought in the UK. No rain for weeks. The river was a mere 4ft, the infected struggled in the water. A few drowned and floated away. But some, some began clawing their way up the bank and into Boston.

Stevens turned back just as the doors to the church slammed shut and locked. The sound of hastily placed items being heard against the door. The people inside, sealing themselves inside of their own tomb.

His radio crackled ‘They're behind us!’. ‘They're wading across the river!’. Stevens brought his radio to his mouth and gave the same order he had been for 3 days. ‘Bug out, Bug out’.

Soldiers jumped from their makeshift barricade and sprinted towards their vehicles. Green army land rovers and an assortment of salvaged cars. Neatly parked, primed for escape. The first infected climbed over the barricade as they reached their vehicles.

Stevens opened the passenger side door screaming at his men to move faster. But then, he glanced up and saw it.

Dozens of people stood at their windows, their eyes pleading. The words Don't leave us wordlessly on their lips. As the convoy began to pull out, front doors opened. People ran out, carrying children, waving money and screaming. Hopeless and desperate attempts to get into or onto the evacuating vehicles but they couldn't stop. This wasn't the first town they abandoned, nor would it be the last. The soldiers behind the wheels knew what happened if they stopped.

The infected soon began their deadly work. Tackling those in the streets who had not sought shelter, crashing through doors and windows.

The last thing Stevens saw in the passenger side mirror were the great doors of the church giving way and the infected storming inside.

John

As the sun set, John watched as the electricity was slowly switched off across Guildford. Homes and streetlights powering down. Being replaced with torches, Christmas lights and candles at windows.

John stood at his front door, wearing his armour. Slowly he lowered his goggles to cover his eyes and he looked to his right hand. ‘Fucks sake’ he placed the tube into his mouth. ‘Lesss doo thesss’ he whispered through his teeth.

Silent as the grave, he opened his front door and stepped out into the communal hallway. He glanced around into the twilight of the coming night and confirmed it was clear. He felt like he was wearing flippers as he tried in vain to sneak upstairs.

His building had three flats on top of each other. Joined by an enclosed and carpeted stairway. There was only one way into the building and one out. A thick heavy set door, with a small window.

John snuck upstairs, refusing to look out the window and praying no one saw him. Step by step, he climbed. Until he reached the landing outside Arthur's door.

Arthur's door was open slightly, shrouded in darkness. ‘Arthur’ John whispered. He knew Arthur had already left but worried that maybe he was still in there.

John waited a moment then pushed the door open and stepped into the flat. It was quiet, still. The scent of Arthur's home hit him, clean and clear. After a moment of hesitation. John decided Arthur wasn't home and wouldn't mind him ‘borrowing’ some of his stuff.

John looked around, seeing if there was anything he could use. Arthur was obviously a huge fan of those wooden sculptures they make for tourists. As they were everywhere. John found what he was looking for, a small candle and a lighter.

He lit the candle, the light casting an orange glow across the empty space and he set to work.

An hour later, John walked back down the stairs. Carrying multiple wind up torches, ropes, a hammer, more duct tape, a green military styled rucksack and a penknife.

There was also food up there but John didn't touch it. He didn't want to take anything he couldn't directly return just incase an all clear was given and Arthur came back wondering why the fuck John had eaten all his cereal.

John placed his finds on his coffee table. He would sort through it in the morning and headed for bed. Snorkel still in hand.

The number of the infected has reached into the hundreds of thousands and estimates say it could be millions.

Newspaper made by CHATGPT

Images from google/ 28 days later film

Please let me know if you'd be interested in 'Special stories' for example

Standsted Airport - What happened to the airport closest to Cambridge, ground zero

Hello.

Day 1 below

https://www.reddit.com/r/28dayslater/s/UGnzWy1ZU4

Day 7

Copfold Green.

‘The roads blocked Beth, we just have to wait for the traffic to start moving’ Said a nervous James. Her husband, her rock. Beth, James and their daughter Elizabeth had fled Copfold Green during the night. Beth had watched her neighbours and friends in complete silence. Pack what they could get into their cars and just go.

Earlier that night, Beth had decided it was time, she woke James and told him they needed to leave. That everyone was leaving. James was hesitant at first. Given the government advice was to stay put but he agreed. The infection was too close and they were in danger. So they picked up a sleeping Elizabeth and put her in the car. Taking only essentials, bottles of water, photos of their wedding and food.

They slowly merged onto the A12, the sea of red break lights stretching onto the horizon.

The road to Chelmsford was packed with desperate souls, traffic only moved in one direction. Away from the infected. No one had organised this evacuation, it had started with a few cars at first, neighbours nervously watching each other waiting for someone to make the first move then suddenly the dam broke and the entire area was on the move.

Towns and villages emptied, People left their homes and ran. Cars stacked for miles and miles on the A12, all the way back to Colchester. Back to the beating heart of the infected scourge, the infected were not idle, they had followed the lights of the cars and sounds of the horns.

They gleefully hunted around the now stationary motorway. The long lines of traffic are now their twisted playground. They chase down survivors at a full sprint, those who dare to abandon their cars. Desperate last attempts to escape their oncoming doom. People ran into the pitch darkness, not being able to see where they are or where they are going. They ran into the awaiting arms of the infected.

Other people remained in their vehicles. As they looked on in frozen horror. The infected attacked their windows, their doors and lights. Careless of the broken hands, arms and injuries they inflicted on themselves.

James tried to calm his beating chest, he felt like he was having a panic attack. His car was blocked in front and back. No one could move, he could hear the screams from far back. The smashing of windows, the message being passed down the line. ‘They're here, they're here’. He looked into the back of the car. Beth held Lizzie to her chest trying to soothe his daughter. A mothers love, primal and pure.

James knew they had to go, he opened his door, stepped out. Scanned the area, trusted the infected weren't yet nearby and opened the back door. ‘Come on’, he waved his hand. Beth wordlessly stepped out, holding her daughter close. They both watched the crowds, like a herd they were all moving towards what he assumed was Witham. People saw the street lights and assumed safety was a few hundred metres away.

They went south east instead. Across fields and through bushes. Silently moving through the land, gripped by fear.

‘Mummy’ Lizzie whispered and then pointed. Huge spotlights illuminated a field. Next to a sign that read The Braxted Bakery.

Military vehicles were parked around at odd angles, doors left open and lights on. They cautiously approached, Beth whispering to Lizzie to stay quiet. They continued advancing until they heard a man.

‘Stop where you are! This is a restricted area’ a voice sounding younger than James called out. Six soldiers stepped out of their hidden positions. Rifles raised, uncertain fingers on triggers.

‘Hold fire, they aren't infected’ a steady voice called.

Beth held her daughter close, her eyes laced with fear. ‘Please help us,’ she said quietly. ‘The infected, they're on the road. People are trapped. They'll be coming this way soon’

They had unwittingly come across an evacuation effort to get VIPs out of harm's way. The group of men before them were the last out, their mission a failure. The infection had reached their intended evacuees before they had.

‘It's your lucky day,’ one of the soldiers smiled, lighting a cigarette. Pointing it towards the rising sun. Two helicopters rose with it. Heading straight for them. The crews of the helicopters had no idea, these weren't their VIP's. The soldiers chose not to tell them.

As the helicopters began to rise, heading south west they passed back over the A12. Now a carpark.

The People below believed that once the traffic started moving, once whatever was blocking the road ahead was moved. They could all drive to safety, away from the coming hoards behind them. Little did they realise Chelmsford was no sanctuary, the military blockades near it had been abandoned. Its garrison moved to London or they had deserted their posts. The infected were ahead of them, behind them and the trap had been closed. One by one the lights of the cars went out. One by one the screams died, the morning haze brought only silence over the A12. The infected moved on.

*BBC News at 6am*

'Good morning' a female presenter wearing a red dress and blouse says. Her tone is flat and without emotion. 'The UK government has confirmed today that Martial law is in effect. I will repeat. Martial law is in effect'. A large red text box is displayed at the bottom of the screen. Stay at home, stay quiet, do not approach the infected and other government issued advice.

'The British mainland has been placed under a strict lockdown, no one is to be on the streets unless they have permission to do so Only essential workers are permitted to travel. All schools, colleges and universities are to close with immediate effect'.

'Residents are advised to ration food where possible and to store water. Electricity, water pressure and gas interruptions have been reported across the East, South East and Central England'.

'All prices of commodities are frozen by order of her majesty's government. Shops are to ensure items such as food, fuel and water prices. Remain stable, the treasury will reimburse business with a voucher scheme to be paid after Martial law has been lifted'

John watched the news in horror, it had gotten worse. The BBC had now stopped reporting new infected zones, instead they only repeated official Government guidelines, stay at home and wait it out. He knew deep down, it meant they lost control. His paranoid mind nagged him, to read between the lines.

John took the last swig of his bottle of Sunny D, its radioactive surgery taste reinvitelising his weary soul. He looked at the empty food packets on the table then to the advice displayed on the TV.

Ration food, store water and stay inside. John kicked himself, he hadn't thought of rationing anything. His cupboards were bare.

He had;

[ ] 2 tins of beans

[ ] 4 packs of super noodles

[ ] Tomato soup

[ ] mushroom soup (Expired 1999)

[ ] Salt, pepper and sauces

[ ] Evaporated milk

[ ] Tea, sugar

No sunny D..

John scratched his head and thought. He had 3 days worth of food if he didn't stretch it. If he rationed it, he could have 1 item a day. He needed to go out one final time, he needed food, water bottles and sunny D. But no one was allowed to go out. They just announced it.

'Okay, I can't go out and in any case I don't want to end up like red eyed George. Fuck it. I can wait 3 days. Surely they will get this under control by then’

Undisclosed location, South West England

Tony Blair, his cabinet and members of the military high command held a shouting match. It wasn't a meeting, there was no Mr Speaker to calm the storm and the flurry of words. Nor to stem the insults hurled at each other.

The air was ripe with panic, second guessing and overlapping authority. Different plans and strategies clashing against each other.

"We should have started bombing two days ago!' A man in a dark blue uniform exclaimed the RAF wings proudly on display, their wings outstretched.

'Bombing won't work,' another general wearing a brown uniform replied . 'We need to set up more army blockades, establish safe zones and begin to move people far away from infected zones'.

A solemn man in a white cap stood, steady and upright. His years on the seas had weathered him, molded him and he could sense when a storm was coming. And had the instinct to get out of its way.

"We need to evacuate," he said pointedly. 'We need to get as many people off this island as possible and we need to start now'.

Tony Blair looked up. 'That was cause panic, people would rush the transport links, the virus would be impossible to stop and it would spread like wild fire'

'It already is, sir' The admiral replied. 'We can't stop this storm, we can only get out of the way'.

Nods of agreement were all that answered, a solemn agreement. They knew the cause was lost, Britain would fall.

Plans were made that night and into the early hours of the morning. The royal family would be evacuated in secret to Canada. They would not be told their true destination until they were in the air. As the queen likely would have tried to do as her father did during the war.

She would try to stay.

Select citizens would be evacuated first, in secret. Ministers and their family's, people in powerful positions and those who were deemed essential.

The military at large would not be informed of the planned withdrawal, instead they would be instructed to continue to attempt to contain the outbreak. The media would be restricted. They were not allowed to inform the general public of where the virus was spreading or how far or how fast. Instead, they were ordered to only repeat official Government advice or 'good news stories'.

They would become the unwilling propaganda arm of the government.

There were approx 57 to 58 million people on the British mainland.

The ship was sinking and there were not enough life boats for everyone.

Ministers and politicians first

John stood in an open field, green hills rolling away in the distance. It was quiet and still. No wind, no birds, no sounds of chirping insects. John was alone.

'Hello?' John said, nothing answered. 'Hello!' John shouted, looking around. The wind did not stir, the birds did not call and the insects remained silent. His panicked calls rose as he realised he had been left behind. He had waited too long to act.

John groaned as he woke, his eyes scanned the room and brought himself into an upright sitting position. He laid on a small cheap bed, it was very uncomfortable and springs angrily poked his back. But he knew every bump and lump.

The rest of the room was sparsely decorated. A chest of draws, wardrobe and a poster of the spice girls. But, it was his, his cheap little council flat, mold n all.

John mentally started to prepare, he decided after his nap it was time to take this seriously. 'What would the chief do?' He asked himself.

John couldn't drive, so he didn't own a car. He didn't own a gun, nor could he use one and hell. Where would he even find one?

What he did have was his old cricket gear. A bat, pads, thick gloves, steel toe capped boots and helmet. John set these items aside, they would form his *armoury*. He had seen on the TV people had fought back against the infected. Not many were successful John mused but it was better than nothing.

Bites, scratches, blood in eyes or mouth that's how it's spread. John found 2 rolls of grey duct tape and began to tape together his *armour*. He turned multiple pieces of the thickest clothing he owned into a jumpsuit, held together by two whole rolls of duct tape.

He had also found an old pair of snorkeling goggles that covered his eyes and nose.

He donned his armour. A thick white cricket jumper. The arms are now completely grey and covered in duct tape. The trousers were the same, thick material covered in the reinforcement of tape.

He slipped on the thick work boots, they weren't his. He wasn't entirely sure who they belonged to, they were a size too big for him.

He reached for the goggles and with some awkward adjustments, he then placed the helmet on his head and finally.

He reached for the final piece. John wouldn't know but, this would save his life. It was a snorkel, its long tube rising above his head.

John looked himself up and down in the mirror. Chuckled and noted that he looked ridiculous.

He was no Master Chief.

As the sun set over Britain. Her leaders were preparing to abandon ship, to leave her people huddled in fear in their homes. There was nothing anyone could do for the vast majority of the UK population. And when they realised this, hope would truly be lost.

In the late hours of Wednesday 19th June 2002. The infected had entered north London. They had slipped past hastily prepared defenses and set upon people hiding in their homes. Lights on, tvs blaring sound like a siren's call. ‘There is prey here’. It called to them.

The battle of London had begun.

Newspaper made using CHATGPT. Images from Google.

Message from the team at Evening Standard. Dave the 'map man' has been fired after trying to convince the editor that Kent did not exist.

Hello all, sorry its a day late. Been doing a lot of overtime.

Part 1 if you've missed it.

https://www.reddit.com/r/28dayslater/s/T0iAD2nL8D

Day 6

Cambridge, Colchester, Peterborough and many others are declared No go zones. No man's land, rescues behind the lines have been abandoned. Not publicly of course but people in these zones are considered already lost.

The infected are moving west. Military blockades are only now starting to be established on roadsides and major transport links.

Military planners enact plans to combat an enemy who uses maps, tanks and mechanised support. The infected did not care for roads, trains or planes. They would not follow the A12 directly to Chelmsford. No, they would follow the people, the lights and sounds.

The long lines of traffic are moving west, bringing the infected with them.

The army, through sheer luck and sacrifice, had slowed their advance north of London. Bedford, Luton, Corby and the small towns in between are now on the frontline.

That's what the news called it, a frontline. As if there was a clear line of contact. A clear line between the infected and us. There was no such thing. The news would report Towns safe, only to correct themselves minutes later.

This was a rising tide, sweeping away all in its path. The British state was eroding, the economy had stopped in its tracks and crashed. Container ships en route to Britain began to turn for safe harbour in France, Netherlands and Spain. Investors pulled their remaining wealth out, the London stock exchange was closed, never to be opened again and the value of the once influential pound was in free fall.

Around the world, people of all races, colours and religions watched on in curious horror as the once mighty empire was torn apart from the inside. Broadcasts were aired constantly in Times square, in Paris, every television showed Britain. A threat separated by 26 miles of open water, but a physical connection remained. The channel tunnel.

The streets of London were empty, no one went to work, buses stopped, trains stopped and In the quiet corners of Westminster, a word was whispered quietly enough so none could hear... Evacuation.

John paced his flat, unsure what to do with himself. His neighbours had either gone to rescue family and friends or had fled the country. He, on the other hand, had stayed put. Frozen in place, unable to act, the news said to stay put. They said that the situation was in hand, the military would start the clean up operation soon and life would return to normal.

'If the situation was in hand, why are they reporting more towns to stay at home or to leave if they can. To go stay with friends or family' John realised he was speaking to himself, only a few days of being inside and he was getting cabin fever. His only company is the TV and his empty bottle of Sunny D.

'Fuck, fuck, fuckk' John put his head in his hands and sat down.

The TV pulled John out of his momentary freeze. "We now go live to Northampton General hospital' A building establishment that for nearly 300 years, sheltered and cured the sick. It was one of the first six voluntary hospitals established in England.

Jenny Elderberry, an inexperienced reporter, stood in a panicked hospital lobby. Patients, doctors and soldiers desperately barricaded the doors.

"We received word that moments ago, a vehicle carrying patients from recently evacuated Bedford hospital. Has crashed nearby, the driver it seemed, had not realised that as they closed the doors, to allow for travel. an infected young boy was part of the group, he escaped the restraints placed on him and attacked everyone on board. The doors were sealed until the vehicles crashed with the infected inside being able to escape' Jenny Flinched as the sounds of sirens echoing over the town. Then she pointedly gasped as screaming could be heard outside.

'It's spreading rapidly through the local area' Jenny steps out of the way of a panic stricken reservist pushing a hospital bed in front of the doors, his rifle slung over one shoulder. Others begin blockading windows, running upstairs or just stand frozen unable to move. The first sounds of bodies hitting the front door make the reporter hesitate. Her professional act is broken, fear grips her and she turns. As the room turns.

Then... the shouting started 'Let us in!' a man cries out, 'please!' A female voice screams. 'There are children out here!'.

More desperate bangs, the doors shake but hold firm. 'They're coming, please!!'. A doctor steps forward. His oath, his need to help drive him. 'Don't,' a soldier shouts. 'If you let them in, the infected will get in'. The soldier's rifle raises slowly.

The screaming intensifies, a new desperation to the unholy chorus. A woman's pleading eyes lock onto the doctors, her mouth opening and mouthing the word 'Please'. A desperate last call.

The doctor steps closer to the doors, the reservist to his relief, does not fire. 'I'm a doctor, I swore to do no harm and to help. I won't stand by and watch them die. His hands open the door just a crack. He looks up into the eyes of the desperate women who moments ago had reached out to him for help.

Now... her red rage filled eyes met his and she reached for something else. Her hand slammed through the gap in the door and groped for him. Her hand found a purchase on his coat, she pulled him closer and the doctor screamed for help. She coughed and convulsed in front of him. Her iron grip refused to let go and from her cough spewed forth a single droplet of blood.

It landed in his eyes.

The reservists grabbed the doctor and pulled him back, falling over a chair the doctor hit the ground. Then the soldiers began to fire, pushing back the crowd of now recently infected in a desperate attempt to close the doors. 'Doctor! Close the fucking doors, what are you waiting for pal!'

The soldier firing a series of short controlled bursts, doesn't notice the activity behind him. Until he sees it in the corner of his eye, the doctor, who moments ago had been treating patients and saving lifes. Began twitching violently as he stands, then with laser focus, he looks straight at the soldier.

Turning, his weapon slowly comes around, but not fast enough before he is tackled to ground. The young soldier is screaming and crying as blood pours from the doctor's mouth to his face.

The camera drops to the ground. 'Run!' Someone shouts, the last broadcasted images are of the doorway giving way and the infected surging through.

John switches off the TV, he runs to his bathroom and throws up. He can't believe what he's just seen. In any other scenario the feed would have been cut for being too violent but they broadcasted it live. It seems, even those at the offices of the BBC were unable to look away as well.

As John attempted to piece together his panicking mind and calm his wrought stomach. He heard a scream outside and his blood turned into a nuclear winter. They can't be this far south already, his rational mind thought.

'Oh my god he's infected!! Look, he's infected!' A woman screamed below John's window. John raced to the window and Instantly looked outside. He noticed many curtains twitching. Hundreds of fearful eyes looking out for the same threat he was.

Old Red Eyes Georgie Poorgie, that's what the vast majority of people called him. 10 years of homelessness on the streets had not been kind to George. His voice was once sweet and kind. Sounded bitter and coarse. His eyes, once deep blue, had greyed. And the whites of his eyes, once clear. Now have a red tinge to them, they are constantly bloodshot from the alcohol and drugs he consumed. If he could swallow it, inject it, smoke it or sniff it. He took it, anything to escape reality.

He didn't feel the finger pointing at him, nor the shouting. He was used to being told to get away, to be pushed and shoved. But he did feel the bat, the crowbar and kicks. Curling into a ball, George cried out, screaming but unable to form words. Blackness clawed at his eyes, the pain swallowed him whole as he was beaten to death.

Red eyed George was not to be the first innocent to die from the hands of the uninfected and he would not be the last.

The street fell quiet, blue lights fast as lightning came around the corner. Armed officers stepped out and ordered everyone back. They fired two shots into George's body, no hesitation, no investigation and no second chances.

John threw up again.

News paper made using AI. I simply poked CHATGPT to make it. There could ARE weird errors on it. Please forgive me