Organ Trail

DAY 1

8am: We load up the station wagon with as much fuel and food as we can carry, determined to escape the nuclear wasteland of Washington DC and make the exodus to safe haven in Oregon. Along for the ride is my team of seasoned zombie-battling veterans – riding shotgun is Ash, and crammed awkwardly into the back are Shaun, Chris and Jill. We hit the road just as the first bomb detonates over the capital and drive uncertainly forward.

9am: My team is already complaining about being thirsty. I grip the wheel tightly. It’s going to be a long trip.

1pm: The car breaks down. Shock and awe give way into total rage when I realise that we stocked the car with enough fuel to drown a dinosaur but not a single spare tire. Balls.

2pm: Miraculously the first car that drives by offers us a tire in exchange for some food. We make the trade and cruise off with renewed spirits.

6pm: Leaving Pittsburgh we encounter our first group of zombies. A small, disorganised bunch; I gently toe the accelerator and we try to sneak past them. Predictably, our car is not made for sneaking and the hoard attacks us, stealing food supplies and biting Jill. She claims to be fine, but I’m already expecting the inevitable.

DAY 2

3am: We pass a gravestone jutting out of the earth by the side of the road. Naturally I want to drive right past this unremarkable sight but Chris insists on going in for a closer look. A zombie bursts from the shallow grave, surprising no one. I quickly dispatch it with a handy headshot and kick Chris back in the car. I’m in a mood with him now.

4pm: We lose another tire on the car. I go into a nearby field and have a bit of a scream. It could be a while before we see another person, let alone one with bartering supplies.

DAY 3

1am: A crushingly boring evening by the roadside pays off. A stranger sells us a tire for just $8. Clearly the heat and radiation have gotten to him. We drive off before he changes his mind.

7am: The car battery goes flat. Clearly this is no station wagon but my old Vauxhall Corsa judging by its horrendous reliability. We jump start the car and roll away, heading for Chicago. Frankly I’m amazed the vehicle hasn’t caught fire at this point.

11am: The car catches fire. Luckily the flames dodge everything except our money – which I’m pretty sure was in my wallet and in my pocket at the time. Regardless, we’re now broke.

DAY 4

2pm: The engine warning light comes on. I swear this car is trying to get us killed.

5pm: As we limp into St Louis, Jill falls into a coma. Her wound has gotten the better of her and the first signs of zombie infection are spreading outwards from the bite. I hesitate for a few moments before putting her out of her misery. Shaun observes that at least we have fewer mouths to feed now. Nobody finds it funny.

DAY 5

3am: Outside St Louis we run into another, larger, pack of zombies. Perhaps in vengeance for our fallen comrade, we convert the car into a rolling death-mobile and unleash a storm of lead into the crowd. We make it through safely, feeling a little vindicated.

DAY 6

4am: We follow vultures to a supply of food since our stockpile is dangerously low. I consider protesting against eating the diet of winged scavengers but nobody else seems to mind.

1pm: The road ahead is blocked with hundreds of derelict cars. It takes us the better part of an hour to navigate round them. While we’re mucking about with the car, Shaun simply wanders off. We lead a brief search but he is never seen again. His fault, not mine.

DAY 7

1am: We make it to Dallas in the early hours of the morning. Our elation is cut short when we work out that it’s a six hundred mile leg to the next landmark. That’s an awful lot of time for something to go badly wrong.

3am: We prise a tire off a broken-down car. It’s usable, so we take it with us, preparing for the next vehicular calamity.

4am: We are held up in the road by road warrior wannabes. Their car must be in a worse state than ours because they steal our new spare tire and leave the fuel and food. Easy come, easy go.

DAY 8

12pm: In the space of two hours while I’m away from the car scavenging for food, Chris comes down with dysentery and Ash breaks his leg. I have no medical kits to heal them so can only look at them in a sort of sympathetic way and hope they recover.

DAY 9

9am: We barely make it to Albuquerque. Ash has recovered his health by ravenously consuming every morsel I can scavenge but Chris is incapacitated with sickness. With no medicine and nothing to trade we try to get some sleep in the town but Chris dies. As always, I blame the car.

11pm: Three hundred miles from Las Vegas, Ash and I finally run out of fuel. We fall into a routine of scavenging for food and desperately holding out for passing traders to give us something we can use. I know it’s a matter of time before we either starve to death or eat each other.

DAY 11

2pm: I secretly consider killing Ash just to stop him eating all my food. Good god, the world has been ended for less than two weeks and I’m already turning into a sociopath.

5pm: We trade some food for fuel and sputter our way down the road. It’s agonisingly slow progress. We barely even speak to each other now. There’s nothing to say.

DAY 13

6am: Dawn is breaking. The sun is reflecting off the millions and millions of bulbs in the Vegas skyline, making them look like they’re shining. I know they’re not; the power went out days ago. Behind me on the flat desert road, I can still see the low mesa where I dumped Ash’s body. Fewer mouths to feed now! I worry that the corpse is attracting more zombies. I’m guessing that’s what all those black dots are shuffling their way down from the yellow ridges and gullies and heading towards the car. I remember being so worked up by a simple punctured tire. Seems like forever ago. Really puts things in perspective. We had a good run though. Here’s to the end of the world.

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