Bridge Street.

High As A Kite.

The small group are sneaking down a side alley between two walls that belong to big branded shops; they come out from the passage at the entrance of the Grafton shopping centre; they have to be extra sneaky not to be spotted by a Z because they are now deep in their new territory. A snarl in exchange for words every time the Z’s bump into each other. George, followed by the others, is stealthy walking through the shopping centre entrance; they steadily walk past the body with the squashed head into the shopping centre via the other door beside it. They are not long into the Grafton shopping centre, undetected, but unfortunately, they can be as sneaky as they want, but they cannot hide their human scent. A snarling Z has just picked up from them; he sniffs the air after seeing them venturing through the other side of the automatic glass doors. The Z runs limping towards them but doesn’t wait for the automatic doors to reopen, so the Z ploughs through the glass door, which should be bulletproof. Still, I don’t think it is, as the shards of glass shatter outwards, slowly followed by the Z. The commotion alerts the small group, which is at the toilet stair entrance, they start to jog away to find a place to hide, but unbeknown to them, it has also alerted the small hoard outside to chase after them.

As they are running through the shopping centre, dodging bins, some shops haven’t got their shutters down, with lights still on. The rest ran ahead of George, who sidesteps a grey shopping centre bin after skidding around the corner, nearly clambering into a shop display window; I swear he was that close even the sexily dressed mannequins almost flinched. He quietly calls the others back because he has spotted something. As the others stop jogging, looking back to see George waving them to come back because through the shop's display is a slit that he is peering through to see a lady with her t**s out, fingering herself, only joking, my friend. It’s two Zs banging on a white office door.

George whispers, “Come on, they will be closed.”

Adam tries to whisper back, but he is unsure why he attempted to; his voice is deep, like the core of this very earth, with every decibel saying, “I think it’s too late; it is like a ghost town.”

George responds, “Yeah, alright, voice! Tone it down, look.”

He points to the two Zs, still trying to get into the office door, f**k knows how they didn’t hear Adam's voice. A clothes shop is Next to a cookie shop. Three casually dressed mannequins are on each side of the open shop's entrance. Now I am telling you this because you will see, my friend, the group of five is interrupted by the small hoard of Zs rushing through the shopping centre as they spill around the corner, turning back to see the five humans have disappeared. The small group of Zs come running through, turning round the corner towards the cookie shop, after turning again after going to explore the rest of the shopping centre. The two Zs that was banging on the office door are now joining the hoard, which isn’t suitable for anyone that comes into contact with the brain-suckling dickheads. George’s breath is released from his lips as his eyes check to see if the coast is clear. Let me draw your eyes out so you can see the bigger picture; the five were posing as mannequins in the clothes shop Next to the cookie shop. They all have funny poses, with the dummies lying at their feet.

Back to the bus depot, where the two lads are sitting, an exhale of smoke mixed with the cold night's air from the first lad's mouth; as he drops the finished doobie to the floor, his buddy notices the bus doors are open.

The first lad is Jerry, and his mate is called Tom.

Jerry says, “I wonder if the keys are still in the ignition.”

Tom responds, “There is only one way to find out.”

They both stand up to go check out the bus.

Back to the group, putting the casually dressed mannequins back upright. Adam laughs out loud as he puts his one in a striking pose; George puts his index finger up to its nostril; on the other hand, the middle finger is fully erect, pointing outwards after they climb out from the display area.

George says, “Let us check out what the Z’s was banging the door for.”

They all walk further into the shop, passing clothes racks, towards the office door at the back.

Why don’t we see what the other two are doing, Bobby taking a swig of water from a mineral spring somewhere in a secret mountain; of course, it isn’t tap water; they wouldn’t lie, pull the wool over anyone's eyes. Anyway, back to it, my friend, this story won’t tell itself. Bobby puts the cap back on the water bottle.

Tracy, while putting her half-eaten chicken salad sandwich on the packaging.

She asks, “Do you think this has taken over the whole city?”

Bobby responds, “I hope not; I have a family. I want us to survive this night; with daylight, it will be better to assess the damage.”

Tracy is just about to respond, but they can hear some noise getting closer with every millisecond that is passing. The small hoard comes speeding around the corner, some splattering into the shop's windows like insects hitting a speeding car. The table the pair are sitting at is now empty, with the wooden coffee shop chair rocking. Their rubbish is still on top of the table as the hoard is passing through. If it’s in their way, it is getting wrecked.

In the meantime, at the sniper tower. Mr Officer is looking down the scope, inspecting the wall, stopping any Zombies that are trying to get to any of the winter carnival workers that are inside. Two armed police officers go to the closed entrance, covering each other’s backs. The door quickly opens to let the two in, and a couple of seconds pass with the illuminating lights are switched off. A voice comes over the sniper's radio saying, “Keep a lookout, especially around the wall.”

As the last bit of the voice over the radio is speaking, there are gunshots that the sniper sees through his scope, bullets tearing through the skull of an approaching Z. He looks around the wall but only sees dead Zs lying around, blood seeping from their wounds. The sniper stops looking for a second, having a swig from his drink on the ledge. While he takes in the beauty of the town centre, he spots something turning around the corner. He looks through his scope to get a closer look; it’s a f*****g bus.

The sniper radios to the police officer below, asking, “Why are the buses still running?”

A voice comes from the police radio, saying, “It is four in the morning; they shouldn’t be.”

The sniper looks again through his scope, following the bus, trying to get a closer look at who is driving.

We join on the bus with Tom, as high as a kite taking the bus for a drive around, with Jerry coming down the stairs after checking the rest of the double-decker out for people but not finding anything. The window wipers are clearing the snow.

Jerry says, “Everything looks clear, bro.”

He picks up a complimentary newspaper the bus company provides, flicking through the pages.

Tom says, “Happy days, brother; I wonder why the keys are still in the ignition. I wonder why they didn't take them.”

Jerry asks, “f**k knows, but I am glad it was because how often do you get to take a bus for a spin around town?”

Jerry puts the newspaper back after joining Tom at the front, holding onto the metal bars, for folks to move around the bus, like a monkey swinging from branches, as the wheels go over a sleeping police officer. If you don’t know what a sleeping policeman is, search for it; educate yourself, please. As Tom accelerates going down this tight road, every so often bumping over a sleeping police officer, which I think are dead people.

Tom responds, “That is true, apart from if you’re a bus driver, then nearly every day.”

Jerry nods as he looks through the big window. The bus turns right around a hotel corner.

The two police officers are inside the winter fair, sitting down at a table while the lady of the fair, a hefty woman, hands them a cup of tea. The man that owns the winter carnival wearing grubby fingerless gloves blows the steam from his hot cup of char after taking a slurp.

The man asks, “The dead has come back to life, you say?”

The Mexican police officer takes his hat off after putting sugar in his hot cup of drink.

After the officer responds, “That is what my partner has just told you, you will have to secure this place.”

The English police officer asks, “Where’s your toilets?”

The lady says, “We have a portable one behind our caravan.”

The English police officer asks, “Thanks, you don’t mind?”

The man of the fair responds, “Help yourself, Officer.”

After the policeman gets up, he excuses himself to go to the toilet.