Luke's Diary: An Unlucky Man In A Zombie Apocalypse. Entries 757 to 956

Entry 931: Monday 15th April 2019

Entry 931
Monday 15th April 2019

I'm still in the grubby cell but I'm not on my own, and my opinions on certain aspects of our situation are starting to change.

I woke up on a mucky mattress after a very uncomfortable night's sleep still wearing my gold thong and covered in yesterday's blood from the exploding infected. With the small amount of sunlight beaming from the small window at the top of the wall that was too high up for me to reach, wondering what today was going to bring.

After banging on the door, shouting to be let out and demanding to speak to someone for about an hour, I gave up and slumped in a heap on the floor, feeling miserable and depressed. I sat there for a few hours just staring into space feeling thoroughly p*ssed off.

I'd been sat on the cold concrete floor for an hour or so when all of a sudden, a clunking noise emanated from the thick cell door. I gasped, looked up, stood to my feet and the door quickly but briefly opened for a moment. Tara was then thrown into the room, she landed in a heap on the floor, and the door was then slammed shut and locked again. Tara got to her feet, threw herself at the door and started banging it. "LET ME OUT OF HERE YOU B*STARDS!" she yelled. "That's going to work," I bluntly said, "I've been doing that for hours. They'll just ignore you." "Christ," snapped an angry Tara, "There's got to be some way of getting out of here. God, you're still in that bl**dy thong." "Yes," I bluntly said, "Believe it or not they didn't provide me with a rail of designer suits and a personal tailor. I did ask, but they just said no. Idiot." "It's bad enough I'm trapped in this Hell hole, but to be locked up in here with you wearing nothing but that thong is just too much," snapped Tara. "Well, what do you want me to do?" I snapped, "Take it off? Would that help? We're all in this mess because of you!" "Me!?" gasped Tara. "Yes, of course you!" I loudly snapped, "You and your greed is what's got us here. If you weren't so obsessed with selling this virus and making money me, Richard and Trudy would still be on The Isle of Wight." "My God," said Tara, "After all this time, you STILL don't take any responsibility for your actions, do you? Typical Luke Warm. It's always someone else's fault isn't it?" "Sorry?" I snapped, "Are you saying that the mess we're in is not your fault and that it's my fault? Is that what you're actually saying?" "That's exactly what I'm saying you idiot!?" snapped Tara, "My God. No one made you get on that jet. In fact I did everything I could to get you off the bl**dy thing! Trudy's hot head and untameable temper landed her in this mess and as for Richard – well he's just a miserable clueless idiot who stumbled into this situation. I am not responsible for any of you being here. You all made your own decisions for your own reasons." "Yes!" I loudly said, "Those reasons were all to do with you, you f*cking oblivious idiot! You kidnapped my kids, brainwashed Kyle, killed Naomi, took me hostage, forced me to lie about Mia and stole the virus." "Your kids are fine, Kyle is fine, Naomi will probably be fine, you're fine now and as for the virus, it's because of you and that chav that Gemma and Biggs got away with it," said Tara. "My kids will be traumatised, Kyle's head will be all over the place, Naomi could be dead and as for me being fine, I'm stranded in Egypt, locked in cell with a psychotic murdering b*tch, covered in blood, wearing nothing but a pair of trainers and a gold thong. I'm a million f*cking miles from being fine. Oh, and as for Gemma and Biggs getting away with the virus, I'm GLAD they did. I'm glad they got away with the jet, I'm glad they got away with the virus and I'm glad they got away with all that money. Seeing that look of disappointment on your face might just be worth all this sh*t. You talk to me about not taking responsibility, what about you!? Look at all the harm you've caused. Don't you care?" "I've done what I've needed to do," said Tara. "You keep telling yourself that," I said, "Everything you have done is to sell the virus and get your hands on a load money. A load of money that is meaningless. How many times do we have to keep telling you? Money doesn't mean anything anymore!" "Oh, shut up Luke!" snapped Tara, "Money might not mean anything right now but it will mean something in the future." "What f*cking future!?" I loudly exclaimed, "This IS the future! THIS! Running for your life! Getting locked in cells! Attempting to escape! Trying not to get eaten or killed! THIS IS THE FUTURE!" I turned around, stomped off in a mood and plonked myself down in a huff on the dingey mattress. A short silence lingered. "Why have they thrown you in here anyway?" I asked. "One of their men has been bitten," said Tara, "They've taken me out my cell and put the infected man in there." "What for?" I said, "Why don't they just kill him?" "I don't know, Luke," said Tara, "I didn't ask. We need to figure out how to get out of here." "It might help if we know where HERE is," I said. "It's Giza Police Station," said Tara. "How do you know that?" I asked. "This is a cell, Luke," said Tara, "Plus I saw lots of police stuff scattered about the place when they dragged me out of the other cell." "Well why have they brought us here?" I asked "I mean who the Hell are these guys?" "My guess is that they're a bunch of survivors who just have got hold of some guns and weapons. They probably took over the police station back when the outbreak started." "Have you seen Trudy?" I asked. "No," said Tara, "She's probably in one of the other cells." "Yeah, but why have they just left us in here?" I said, "We've been here ages. What do they want with us?" "I don't think their English is very good," said Tara, "So communication is going to be hard. They saw all of the infected exploding in front of us, didn't they? That's probably why they brought us here. They want to get to the bottom of how we were able to just stand there while the heads of all those infected exploded." "Yeah, but they're not doing anything about it," I said, "If they want to figure out what's going on, they'll have to do more than just throw us in a cell." "I think they've got their hands full," said Tara, "Some of their men have been out looking for supplies and some have ended up infected. Looks to me like they're sorting out a burial. I think that's more important to them than us right now." "Well aren't they going to feed us?" I said, "I'm starving and I could really do with some water." Tara looked up at the small window at the top of the wall. "Luke instead of moaning, use that little brain of yours and think about how we can get out of here," said Tara. "We can't get out of here," I bluntly said, "We're trapped." "Oh, so we should just sit here and do nothing should we?" said Tara, "Christ, Luke. Man up will you? Put your hands together and make a step." "You what!?" said. "Make a step," exclaimed Tara, "That window is too high up, but if you give me a step up I can see what's out there. Come on!" Feeling fed up and that Tara's suggestion was pointless I interlocked my fingers, cupped my hands together and offered Tara a step-up. She placed her right foot in my hands, I hauled her up and she grabbed hold of the window ledge and looked outside as I took her weight. "See anything?" I asked. "Yes," said Tara, "It's like a big car park. There are cars, pick up trucks, vans and there's a light aircraft; a small passenger plane. It looks to be in good working order. That's our way out of here." Tara jumped back down on to the floor. "There might as well be a fully equipped Concorde with a first-class cabin and a red carpet leading up to it," I said, "It doesn't matter. We're stuck in here." "My God, you are hard work," snapped Tara, "I'm surprised you've lived this long with all the moaning you do.  You just sit there moaning in your thong. I'll come up with a plan." "Oh, you will, will you?" I sarcastically said, "Well you do that. Take your time. Personally, I think we need to wait for help to arrive. Richard saw us being carted off. Maybe he'll find us and rescue us." "Ha!" laughed Tara, "Richard rescue us!? Don't make me laugh. He'll have cut his losses, legged it and left us high and dry whilst he saves his own skin. He's probably hiding somewhere, sh*tting himself right now. Selfish coward." "Takes one to know one, I guess," I said. "I'm many things, but I'm not a coward," said Tara. "Yeah, but you're selfish," I said. "I was the one that got my knife out when those guys started approaching us," said a firm Tara, "What did you do? Stood there in your thong, saying 'Let's talk about it.' Pathetic. Sometimes there's a time for talk and a time for action. That's your problem you know? You never know when to stop talking and start taking action." "Do you really think I care about what you think of me?" I snapped, "You're a psychotic murderer. Your opinion means nothing to me." "Well I have come up with a plan to get us out of here," said Tara, "Does THAT mean anything to you, or shall I stay quiet?" "Just tell me," I firmly said. "OK," said Tara, sounding focused, "Now, whoever this lot are they don't want us dead. If they did, they'd have killed us already. They want us for something. That's why we're still here, cooped up in this cell, and that means they're going to come back. They all seem to have guns on them, so when they come back, we've got about five seconds before they unlock and open the cell door. The minute we hear the door opening, I need you to punch me hard in the face." "What?" I said. "Make sure you do it hard on the nose," said Tara, "That way my nose will bleed and I can smear some of the blood around my lips and on the floor, making it look like I've died. I'll lay on the floor and then when the guards come in, they'll inspect me and probably check for a pulse. When they get close, I'll knock one of them out, take their gun and when I do that, you deal with the other one." "Deal with the other one!?" I exclaimed, "What do you mean, deal with the other one?" "Look," said Tara, "There'll probably be two guards. One will probably check on me whilst the other covers you with his gun. As soon as I knock out the guard that's checking on me, the one that's covering you will be distracted for second. That's your opportunity to kick the other guy in the balls and grab his gun. We'll kill them both and get out of here." "Tara, this plan has got more holes in it than some swiss cheese" I said. "I thought you'd jump at the chance to punch me in the face," said Tara. "This is about us getting out of here," I said. "Yes, and this is the best plan we have," said Tara, "Certainly better than waiting for bl**dy Richard." "Look, why don't I play dead on the floor?" I said, "I think you've got a better chance of grabbing the gun off a guard than I have." "Luke, I will be the one to play dead," said Tara, "The guard who covers you WILL be distracted when he sees me knocking out his mate. That will give you the opportunity to grab his gun. Besides, I don't think I have the stomach to be looking down at your arse in that thing as you play dead." "This isn't going to work," I said. "It will work if you're quick," said Tara, "As soon as the door is heard opening, punch me hard. Hard enough for my nose to bleed, but not hard enough to knock me out." "Do I look like an expert in punching people?" I said, "How the f*ck do I know what the ideal velocity is needed for a punch to cause a nose bleed but not unconscious." "OK," said Tara, "Shall we go with your suggestion? You play dead and I'll punch you?" "Why does anyone have to punch anyone?" I snapped, "As soon as the door opens why don't you just fall on the floor and act dead." "A bit of blood will make it look realistic," said Tara, "Anyone would think you didn't want to punch me." I slumped back down on my grubby mattress and sulked. I'm not sure about Tara's plan but in the absence of Richard turning up to rescue us, it's the best we have.