Zuburbia. Day One.

You know when you just know, right?

You do, right? Well, I don’t need to turn on the radio, gogglebox, or even open a bloody curtain to know something’s wrong out there. Weird shit is happening. It’s way too quiet. Well, you know, that general people-going-about-their-business noise isn’t happening when it normally would. Like New Year’s Day rolled into Christmas Day, when that stunned hush lay like a blanket, muffling civilisation; all life being played out behind closed doors, and webs of lies being spun to cover misdemeanours.

It feels a bit like that, but without the guilt or the gifts. Well, a bit of guilt. I had a few last night, marinating my morose mood in Gentleman Jack as I watched the news unfold on a shocking loop. I deserved to numb the outrage I felt seeing the world unravel. The world was dying in front of my eyes. Little did I realise how much truth there was in that, or would be, come this morning.

Anyway, it’s Saturday morning and it is dead, for want of a better word. Hangover or not, I know something ain’t right.

They say that way, way back we all had a fully developed sixth sense, that our pineal glands told us something was amiss before our eyes, ears and even smell could stumble into action to warn us. Animals still have theirs in full glorious effect, I mean they know shit. And I can’t hear any of them, either, now I think about it. No birds, dogs, cats, whatever. They’ve listened to their senses and gone away somewhere, and I know darn well my pineal gland is tugging insistently on my subconscious.

Let’s analyse this. No human noise, no animal noises. No, wait…I hear a scream start, high pitched and rising until it is abruptly cut short. I think it was human. Another, a man’s voice roaring no, no, no over and over. That stops too, just as swiftly. It feels portentous. This shit is creepy.

Impatience takes the helm, resulting in me risking a peek through the curtains still pulled across the lounge windows that span half of my house front. Sunlight slices into the room, eliciting a dance from the dust motes in front of my adjusting eyes. I blink out at a scene of almost standard suburbia.

Almost, because it looks like suburbia was having a party last night after all. Strewn among the manicured lawns, and neatly paved driveways is the detritus of family lives, cast asunder as if no longer needed. A tricycle here, an overturned wheelbarrow there, a car in the middle of someone’s front garden hither, a pile of discarded clothes thither.

Fuck. Those aren’t clothes. I think that’s the woman that lives opposite me and she is definitely convulsing. Flipping like a landed fish, in fact. I can see gushes of scarlet coming from her throat and pooling around her as she flails. She is creating a blood angel on the perfectly smooth tarmac of the road she lies upon.

I know I should help. But that niggling feeling is telling me to stay right here. And so I watch, feeling like a 24 carat douchebag as her tremors change to nothing at all. She’s still. The realisation that I just watched my neighbour die, and no I don’t know her name, makes me want a drink already. That’s not healthy at 10am. But I fear today normal rules do not apply.

I plump for a strong tea instead, and gaze out through the half opened kitchen blinds offering a partial view through the window that looks out the other half of the front of my house; sipping from my mug. The tea is strong and sweet and enlivens me slightly. An injection of normality.

I muse on how the tea is metaphorically bringing me back to life as I watch my dead neighbour struggle to her feet, with her semi decapitated head lolling like an errant balloon on a string; and begin to shuffle down our quiet little street. I take another glug of tea as her corpse shuffles towards her neighbour’s house, muffled cries greet her through their door. I can hear those from over here, too.

If this was the movies, I’d probably pour some JD into my mug, or scream and run. 

Possibly, I’d do both. What really happens is a cold and very real realisation of what I’m seeing unfold. It’s here. We’ve been fed this shit for decades in the movies and on TV. Zombies. I know how this pans out. Or at least I think I know how this pans out.

I finish my tea, and click the kettle on for another one. You know, to think with. I need to get my shit together. I need to sort out provisions and weapons and plans. I need to barricade myself in. Hell, I need to prepare for the end of the world. 

After I’ve had another cup of tea.