There’s a bit pack of them trying to get into the house opposite us. Anne and I haven’t spoken a word for the last half hour in case they hear us. We’re communicating via laptop keyboard at the moment.
The silly bastard across the road had a stereo on loud. This is the same twat who races his souped up Astra up and down the road at the dead of night. It’s off now but the zombies have twigged that there’s someone in there. At my last peek through the curtains they’d broken the window in his sitting room.
We can’t do anything for him without attracting attention to ourselves. Anne thinks its cold. I think its sensible.
Anne called 999 – but it just rang. One of the zombies is in what looks like riot gear.