Free No Zombies Please We Are British by Alex Laybourne

thrusting.
    Jack averted his eyes, not in any mood to spy on someone’s fuck session, but it made him smile. The world was carrying on. The world would always carry on. People would always find a way.
    Getting up from the bed, he thought about Sarah. She and her mother were trapped, but they were not gone. They too would find a way to survive.
    Jack paced the room for a while, unsettled by the strange restful feeling that settled over his mind. He wanted to fight it. He wanted to push it away and go back to the panic and the fear. The uncertainty. It made more sense to him.
    Instead, he ran a bath. He had not had a bath since he was a kid, so he made sure to put extra bubbles in it, and make it as hot as he could stand.
    The water was close to scalding when he slid down into the tub, but it felt great. He gasped and gritted his teeth as he lay back, his spine moving through the hot water to rest on the still cold interior of the bath.
    The lavender-scented mixture in the bath created a soothing steam. As the bath emptied, the water falling below the level of the drainage hole, he would fill it up again.
    Jack had no idea how long he lay in the water, but he fell asleep twice.
    It was dark when Jack towelled his water-wrinkled body off and slid into bed. He cringed at the thought of putting his dirty clothes back on, but the idea of wearing an old man´s clothes, in particular his underwear, was equally unappealing. So Jack was naked when he slid between the sheets.
    The bed enveloped him, and within moments, he was taken by sleep. Blissfully unaware, even if just for a few hours, of the continuing destruction of society.

 
    Chapter 6
     
    When Jack woke, the sky was no longer dark with the threat of a storm. The sky was cloudless, and a pale baby blue. The sun teasing of an appearance but not yet visible from his position.
    He slid out of bed and stretched. The sleep had done him the world of good. Jack looked at his watch and gasped. It was almost eleven, which meant he had slept for thirteen hours straight. He looked around. After studying his blood-soaked clothes for a while, he decided that another man’s underwear was not such a bad idea. Dressing in the white bedroom, he found a pair of new briefs, still in the box, and a pair of black jeans that were only a little bit too big. The belt he found by the bed solved that problem, and a black, collared t-shirt completed the look. Socks were also not a problem, but shoes were a different story. Jack didn’t mind. His own were more comfortable anyway, and the blood that crusted over them had not yet leaked through to the inside.
    Dressed, still feeling relaxed and ready for anything, Jack went downstairs. He paused half way down the final flight. He could hear snarls and growls coming from inside the kitchen. It only took a second for the rested and relaxed feeling to fall away.
    Jack stared at the door, knowing it was George who made those noises. He had died, and was now back. Jack debated opening the door and putting the old man out of his misery. It was the least he deserved for his hospitality. Jack couldn’t do it.
    Instead, Jack moved back to the second floor. The living room had a fireplace. A real, working, wood-burning fireplace. This included a full suite of tools, including a nasty looking fire iron. Jack lifted it from the rack. It was a heavy, old-school iron piece. The handle part of the same single lump of iron, twisted around to give it grip, before ending in a ball to add extra purchase. The business end was a fine point. Six inches or so behind the tip was a large barb that curled from the main shaft and added an extra dimension to the weapon.
    Jack swung it in the room, and while it was heavy, he liked the feel of it in his hands.
    Any lingering moments of rest and relaxation were blown away when Jack opened the front door and stepped out onto the street. It was early morning, but the freshly bled corpse of a young woman lay in the middle of the