Class Four: Those Who Survive Read Online Free PDF Page A

his belt off. His hands were covered in these little flecks of blood. It was really noticeable against the white of his skin.
    So white. Just like this room really, I suppose. I passed him the belt and he tied it tightly around his calf, said it would do as a tourniquet for now.
    Silly me, I should’ve know really. I don’t know what else he would’ve used the belt for, hmm?
    He crawled back inside the house, told me to lock the doors, and to call the police. As I reached the phone, he turned the television on, flicked through the channels onto one of those dreadful twenty four hour news programmes, you know the ones. All lies and nonsense, that’s what Donald says.
    Said.
    It’s still strange saying it like that.
    I tried calling the police, but I just got some message on repeat, over and over again.
    When I went back through to tell Donald the bad news, he had managed to haul himself onto the armchair and was just watching the television. He looked down at his leg, then at me, and shook his head. He said, ‘The bleeding has stopped, Syl, don’t worry. It’ll be okay, but I don’t think I’ll be able to drive home just yet, plus, it sounds like there’s more trouble everywhere anyway.’
    I looked outside at the gentleman who was lying in a big puddle. Donald saw this and said I better close the curtains; it’ll help to keep the unpleasantness out, he said.
    After that, I felt much better. So I made us a pot of tea, sat down on the sofa, and we just watched the news reports, over and over again.

 
    Home Comforts – Part Two
    I’d only heard the word zombie before on the television shows or films that we used to watch. Never really liked horror films; don’t like all that blood and gore. I seem to be so scared of real life that Donald said it would be silly of me to watch something which would do the same thing.
    A few days had passed since Donald had been attacked. His leg was still sore, so he told me. We had discussed driving home, but I’d only taken a few lessons, back before we met, so I wasn’t comfortable with driving all that way, and neither was Donald.
    Donald had started to work his way through the drinks cabinet by then. His mood had gotten dark, like he was prone to from time to time. He said that it helped numb the pain from his leg, but when he was drinking the cooking sherry in the second week, I knew that he had just fallen back into old habits.
    The cottage had enough food for a few weeks; the owners always made sure that it was well stocked. With the regular power cuts they experienced out there in the middle of nowhere, we had those cartons of UHT milk for tea. It wasn’t too bad. Plus, the news channels were now telling people to stay put if they could, and if not, to make for the nearest safe zones that were being set up.
    Donald said that it would be pointless to make a move to our closest safe zone as it was too far away. That was in the early days when he was on the whiskey.
    That was the worst. That stuff always made his mood darker. There were days where I didn’t dare be in the same room for too long, not unless he was shouting for food or for more bandages for his foot.
    I remember when the news stopped. Day sixteen, just like the amount of years we’ve been married for I thought. We had just had breakfast, dry crackers I think it was. The news channel now was just a couple of people, more or less repeating the same information over and over again. We had put the television on mute by then. It was becoming boring listening to it and Donald said it made his head hurt even more.
    So we were watching, and it just went off, like a switch had been tripped. Nothing but blackness. Donald tried going through the other channels and aside from some show about a man fighting food, or something, there was nothing else on. He muttered some more, and got back to his drinking.
    I had to tell him a day or so later that we needed to go out soon, as we didn’t have much food left. I never ate