I hate the word Run.  Lately,  I keep hearing it.   “Rae! RUN!”   See what I mean?   “Run, you idiot!” Finn ordered again.  I was on the sidewalk, with my back to the Weta Cave – a geeky shop that displayed and sold all things Lord of the Rings.  Finn was inside a school building directly in front of me, the windows were open, and both of his hands were pointing at Manuka Street which was to my left. Not too far away, there were three human-shaped figures headed towards me.  Even from a distance, I could tell they were infected males.  One was missing an arm, and the other two hobbling alongside him resembled Freddy Kreuger if Freddy Kreuger were twins, and also a meth addict.   All were wearing the [Read More]


        I’d rather roll around in a bed of broken glass shards than listen to a Pop song.  I can’t think of anything worse.  Oh wait, I can —  singing and dancing along, to the tune of a cheesy Pop song. In that case, I’d rather roll around in a bed of broken glass shards, and then jump into a pool of lemon juice.  Then rub my skin vigorously with rock salt.   That I was belting out to a whole play list goes to show how intoxicated I was last night. After unearthing a bottle of red from the pantry, Dita decided we needed to celebrate, and proceeded to hook up her iPod to the portable speakers in the lounge.   My eardrums were immediately assaulted by her Dance Party Mix collection, which was [Read More]


        A few dozen infected Twitchers were waiting outside of Peoples Coffee in Newtown.  I don’t think they were lining up for lattes.   Curious to know what had them so enraptured, I risked a few steps closer.  Stopped in my tracks when I spied a blue sneaker. On the foot of a severed, brown leg on the ground.  Shit.  A fresh kill.   I slowly backed away to avoid detection and the blood spilling from the sidewalk.  I was about to turn right on Riddiford Street when I heard it – the sound of pursuit.  Judging from the increasing volume of feet on pavement, it was headed towards my direction. From my position at the end of Constable Street, I sighted a big black umbrella running towards me.  Limping. Sprained ankle, I thought.   Swinging wildly, dainty hands [Read More]

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