It took Rachel two hours to get to the bathroom and back again. The line is huge and people are in there crying and keeping to themselves, instead of doing their business and leaving so that others can relieve themselves. Rachel just muscled into the men’s bathroom and went in there. It was either that or she would have pissed herself.
We’re all hungry. No one has eaten in twelve hours. I have a small pack of rice and pasta but I’m not going to eat it raw.
A number of soldiers are going around asking people for their passports. They seem to be targeting anyone that doesn’t look Spanish. The passport people have passed our group a few times and Ediz has been asked twice. I haven’t been asked at all, nor Rachel or Louise.
I can smell the disinfectant everywhere. Everyone has their hand over their nose and mouth trying not to breathe it in. Of course, the station is open to the elements down one section so of course we’re going to smell the entire city. It’s already made a few people sick, so we have to smell that as well. Every couple of minutes something pulls their nose and tries to find whoever just farted. Cleary someone’s been living off a diet of raw eggs and cabbage. And then there’s BO. My gym bag smells better than this place.
One of the people nearby just asked the soldier if we’re leaving to another city or if we’re going back to our homes. The soldier said he didn’t know.
Cristina was talking to another group earlier who had some information. They haven’t been running the trains because people on the platform jumped onto the tracks and ran off, presumably back home or to a friend. They think a hundred people have escaped. All were processed by the authorities in the tents and now they’re missing. They’ve been trying to find them all afternoon and until they do they can’t release the trains.
There’s shouting down one end now. I imagine a lot of people are sick of no one telling us what’s going on. It’s not just one person shouting, it seems to be everyone.
Cristina just leaned over and is translating. It’s a lot of, “You will have to shoot me because I’m going home.”
Some people are being carried away and screaming in protest. We’re looking at the faces surrounding us, trying to gauge their reactions. People are starting to stand up and watch. Some are voicing their support and shouting from across the station. Others are standing up just in case they get trampled
The soldiers are shouting, “Everyone sit down.” Everyone else is saying, “I’ve been sitting down for twelve hours, I’m going to stand up when I feel like it.”
More shouting. More screaming. More people being dragged away. Rachel has zipped up her bag and has her hand around the handle. We’re in the middle of the concourse so we’re in prime trampling territory.
About a quarter of the station are on their feet now. Where’s the nearest soldier? No idea. He’s probably carrying someone away. In fact, the more people they carry the away, the fewer soldiers remain in the station.
We out number them a hundred to one.
“Everyone sit down!” they’re shouting, now over the station’s loudspeaker. God knows how many tanks there are outside. If anyone runs they might as well be racing into a barrage of tear gas and bullets.
Ediz just stood up.
Part 3.
I was in a car crash when I was seventeen. Heard the tyres squeal and the felt the crunch of metal as we slammed into the car in front of us. The sound was the worst part. I’d seen the aftermath of car crashes before so I became inured to them. But hearing it … it’s like having your teeth removed. When I had my molars yanked out I could hear the pliers squeezing around my tooth as it dragged the decayed tooth out of my jaw. It’s been two years and I can still hear it. The sound stays with you, and that was just for a tooth.
I saw people die today. I heard them die as well. When you remember seeing something you can alter it, put some kind of spin into your memory and keep yourself from going insane, but there’s no altering the sound.
There was a panic and people were trampled. There were screams and cries for help. There were hands going up in the air and people falling over each other. There were shots fired from several directions. The soldiers were over-run as soon as one of them opened fire. There may have been thirty bullets in that guy’s rifle but at least a hundred people ran at him, all trying to get out.
Immediately afterwards there were riots, screaming, and looting. I guess the survivors of Atocha were in such a scared frenzy that they broke into shops to grab what they’ve always wanted as a giant ‘fuck you’ to the soldiers who kept them captive. We all ran as quickly as we could, hearing the riots around us. The helicopters came in closer and followed us with their spotlights running along the ground.
Madrid has just lost control. I’ve never been in a riot before. It’s something new to tell people, I guess. We escaped one zombie and a couple of thousand people in a panic. I’m not sure which of the two is worse.
It’s midnight. We’re hiding in a tunnel. Rachel, Cristina, and Ediz are here. I don’t know where the others are. There are some other people with us, I don’t know them but one was staying with people in south Madrid. I thought about heading back into the middle of the city, to the embassy or to our old apartment. Ediz told me that would be stupid.
From Atocha everyone just scattered in every direction. They all knew where to go except for me. Ediz grabbed onto my arm and pulled me after Cristina and Rachel. We stopped at the bus station next door. We called out to one of the French guys but he kept running. We heard frantic calls on the radio. The soldiers were calling for back up so we started following people who knew their way around. One of the guys in the tunnel said he used to live down this area and would walk along here drunk to get back home. The only problem is we’re heading south, near the train tracks where one of those things was seen walking around. If there’s one then there has to be more, right?
The adrenaline is not doing us any favours right now. Every time we hear something nearby we freeze and get ready to run. We don’t know if it’s the army, the police, more civilians (foreign or Spanish), the homeless or the undead.
I have no idea where we are or what we’re going to do. We’re just resting to catch our breath. We’re not talking to each other. No one is arguing. We’re just waiting.
I lost Rachel in Atocha for a few seconds and neither of us could see each other. What the hell would I do if I couldn’t understand what the soldiers were shouting? If I lose Ediz, Cristina, and Rachel I am royally fucked. I don’t have a hope in hell unless someone is willing to help me.
Hang on.
A helicopter with a search light just flew over head. I don’t think they saw us. If they had they would’ve kept us in sight until the military came to round us up.
Yeah, Rachel is starting to freak out. She’s asking Cristina how to say, “Please don’t shoot us,” and, “I can’t find my friend.” Great. What the hell does Rachel mean by, “I can’t find my friend”? She better not mean me. I don’t want to be lost out here in the middle of Spain with no idea where I’m going. I don’t even know if the rivers are safe to drink from. I should have stayed in Amsterdam. I may be a liability there as well but at least in The Netherlands everyone speaks English. I’d also be able to grab a boat or even swim home if I was desperate enough.
Okay, maybe I couldn’t swim home, not unless my life depended on it and the option was to drown at sea or be eaten by a marauding cannibal.
Rachel just slapped her book down, frustrated and needing to vent. “I can’t get those screams out of my head.” Neither can I. The sound of people screaming as they’re being crushed, not even just crushed on the ground while trampled, but people crushed against walls and seeing their eyes almost pop out … that look of sheer terror that they can’t breathe and that they are actually about to die while watching a stampede and no one is there to help them …
One of the guys just went off to find water. He said he’ll come back. They always say they’ll come back. What he really means is that he will come back if it suits him and if he can, because we all know these are unusual circumstances. Maybe he can break open a vending machine, if he finds one.
I packed way too much crap to travel around Europe. Now I’m stuck with all of this. I should have just picked either a jeans and t-shirt climate only, or a wear-as-little-as-possible climate. I should have gone to Mallorca or Ibiza, nice islands in the Mediterranean with lots of girls and less chance of an undead invasion. Then again, if there was an invasion it would probably be difficult getting off a tiny island when everyone’s resources would be focussed on the mainland. Yeah, next time I’ll choose somewhere based on its survivability when facing an apocalypse. Kenya, for example. Zombies can be eaten by lions, assuming that the lions don’t become zombies, otherwise we would all be -
31 July
We’re next to a motorway now. We had to move in a hurry. The guy who went for the water was attacked. I didn’t see it, but we all heard it. I don’t know how a slow moving creature could even ambush a full grown man, but it was dark so who the hell knows. It’s about 4am now and I got to hear a guy scream for his life as he was attacked and eaten alive.
I thought the screams from Atocha were bad. They at least were blurred by the screams of people running and calling out to each other.
I don’t know if I will ever sleep again.
Something ripped into him. He called for help and we didn’t go to him. We just grabbed our things and ran.
Rachel is crying. An emotional outburst, probably. Honestly, I feel like crying as well, but it’s too hot.
Why the fuck did he just walk off like that? Why would anyone venture out on their own? Fuck him, he deserves it if he’s going to be that stupid!
We’re just lumbering around and everyone is covered in sweat. It’s all waiting, sitting, walking, waiting … We go from being wired and unable to sleep to being so exhausted we can’t move and then back to being wired. Either way, it’s too hot to sleep.
He didn’t deserve it. People being mugged don’t deserve it, people being raped don’t deserve it, so people going out to check their bearings and see what’s around don’t deserve to be attacked either. He was just trying to get help. Maybe it was just for himself, maybe it was for the rest of us. I’ve heard too many people scream tonight and I’ve done nothing to help any of them. I should have at least gone to see what was attacking him, but no. Ediz simply started running. Cristina grabbed Rachel and pulled her along. I followed.
There’s no traffic on the motorway. I’m sure there are road blocks keeping this thing contained, but a zombie is not going to walk along a motorway. It’s going to walk where it can find people to bite.
I thought the only way to ensure a zombie stays where it is would be thanks to a sniper. So, that led me to imagining a Spanish sniper staring at the lot of us as we’re walking along the underside of a motorway. There are nine of us, giving me reasonable odds that I wouldn’t be the first shot. The idea of being followed by a sniper does not ease my paranoia at all.
Zombies and snipers. What a great combination. Me in the middle. Bad combination.
One of the guys here seems to know where to go. I think he’s Moroccan. He’s with a group of friends like me. There’s myself, Rachel, Cristina, Ediz, the Moroccan, his two friends and two more tag-alongs.
You know what? I’m really done with this shit. Tomorrow I’m going to find the police or the army and just surrender. I don’t want to be hiding next to a motorway at 4am, hiding from people with guns and the legal authority to kill me. I don’t want to be here in the middle of summer without a drink in fourteen hours. I’ll just surrender and they can take me to some camp or to the British embassy and I’ll be treated correctly.
Part 2.
Rachel didn’t appreciate my surrendering idea. She said, “You can do what you like but I’m not going to fucking surrender.”
Rachel, it’s not surrendering. If we stay out here any longer we’ll die from heat exhaustion and dehydration.
Cristina and Ediz were at least giving me the benefit of the doubt.
Something’s coming.
Part 3.
Fuck this! Seriously, fuck this! Fuck running around, fuck these Spanish motorways, fuck the lack of water, fuck these undead assholes! I’m tired of all of this. The sky is getting brighter, I haven’t slept, I haven’t had a drink, I need to take a dump and I’m backed up worse than a heroin whore in a tag-team gangbang. Fuck all this running!
Part 4.
The sun is halfway up the horizon now and my temper-tantrum is over, I guess. Walking off like that was the dumbest thing I could have done. I left a group of people just moments after seeing a zombie attack.
I wasn’t thinking. The heat and lack of sleep got to me and I cracked. I could have been killed. Something could have grabbed my wrist and yanked me into the dark and no one would have come to help me, because no one can help during a zombie crisis. One bite and you’re gone. I almost died and it was entirely my fault. You know those morons in horror movies who decide to split up and check the haunted house alone? It turns out that I’m one of those morons and, this time, I got lucky.
The Moroccan had seen something in the darkness. The rest of us got up as well. After a few minutes someone pointed. There was a pair of eyes in the distance looking our way. They were spaced-out, dead eyes, and they were watching us.
It was the Moroccan’s friend, the one who went to find a vending machine. He was covered in blood while staggering forward. He had followed us all this way.
We ran. We ran until we collapsed. That’s when I had my tantrum. It was so bad that I actually left the group. I somehow decided that I was going to walk along the highway and flag down the first car I saw so that I could surrender. I didn’t care. I was beyond exhausted and in a rage. But because I had been running for an hour with this backpack I barely got fifty metres before collapsing. My legs shook uncontrollably and my heart thumped so violently that I nearly passed out. After cooling off for a few minutes I realised what a colossal idiot I was and I had to jog back to the group and apologise.