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off of my lap. He took the bottle, winked at me a second time and said “You’ll be fine,” then he gave me another toothy grin, and shuffled off down the stairwell.
    I woke soon afterwards, startled by a noise outside, but the dream was still fresh in my mind, and the images overlaid reality for a few seconds. From where I was laying, huddled in the blanket (which was damn warm if a bit smelly), I could see all the other posters on the walls. There, stuck right where it had been back then, though partially covered by a few newer posters, was the same one, ripped corner and all.
    Evita . Starring Marti Webb.
    There it was, right in front of me.
    I sat there for a while, going over it in my head, and although I’m uncertain, I think that was how it happened. It’s not all in my imagination.
    The noise outside repeated once more. Shuffling, scratching. It brought me round in a second. I lit up the torch as quietly as I could, and tentatively peered out of the window.
    DogThing was shuffling around at the front of the bus, and although he only stayed for a few minutes before heading back out into the darkness, I’ve never been so relieved to see a mutt from hell.
    An hour later, and I was out the back of the bus, cooking mushroom on a small fire. I was tempted to cook inside the bus, but if the thing went up in flames I would be homeless. I figured I would hear a zombie coming in plenty of time.
    I was wrong.
    It was already past me and moving off into the darkness when I became aware of it, just visible on the edge of the light cast by the fire. This one was only small and carried its own severed arm in its other hand. It went on, lumbering on its way past, into the darkness, and off in the direction of the old camp, and the wall.
    Where were they going?
    I hadn’t been totally stupid. The mace was leaning against the side of the bus, barely a foot away from me, and I leapt round the fire to grab it. I was still standing there, shaking and nervous as hell, thinking that the thing would come back again, when two more shuffled into the light. They were leaning on each other, or maybe one was dragging the other along. The shorter of the two had a leg dragging behind it, barely attached. They completely ignored me and followed the same path.
    You know what’s worse than having to fight zombies? Being ignored by the damn things. It makes you wonder if you are even there. I suspect that if I wander near them, they would probably attack me (which I’m not going to test), but the way they just carried on, ignorant of my existence, made me wonder if they sense much at all. Maybe they can’t even see you unless you are right on them.
    It’s starting to grate at me. The need to know where the hell they are all going. I know that I’m going to be daft enough at some point to follow them and find out, but right now I’m down to two cans of drink. I’m surprised that I’ve managed to make the remaining few last this long.
    I want to go back to the old camp, and disregard the need to head off somewhere that I don’t know to find more supplies. Food isn’t a problem as there are about a million mushrooms growing in the dark all over the place. Water is a problem though.
    Okay, I’m heading out now. Got my satchel and a few bits and pieces. Got the tools, the mace, lighter, a couple of empty bottles (one which looks remarkably like that bottle I gave the old man on the bus) a few torches and one of the lanterns.
    I decided to go for the bike and pram pile, to see if I can put together some form of trolley to move stuff in. It’s right on the edge of an area I haven’t been far into, with plenty of mushrooms, so I can explore a little and grab some food at the same time.
    Oh, and it’s not near the zombie route.
    Day 14
    Yesterday I spent the majority of the day rummaging through the pile of prams and bicycles trying to find enough useful bits to put something together. I did it in the end, after a lot of messing around. I