The carbon blue of the rags they wore were evidence of their origins. The hospital on the hill; it was part of the RAF base at Stredham. I’d heard, then seen, the helicopters landing. Two sets of wide blades carrying each blunt-nosed bullet-shaped cabin into the compound. That had been a week ago. Three days later I’d heard the sirens. Still, I did not leave. I believed that I was safe, outside of the bounds and protected by base security. Had they broken out in daytime I may have had more of a chance to escape. It was under the glare of the spotlights that I saw them emerge from the hangers. Stumbling at first, but then moving with growing speed. Their eyes, though sightless, stared out ahead of them, and I knew they were glaring at me, hidden, as I thought, under a tarpaulin sheet. I peeked out in fear. They could sense that I was there, whether by smell or sound. Blind as they were it was obvious that some stimuli drew them towards me. I had managed to close and lock the gates long before they got here. Once they had hit the fence and found it themselves locked out I had hoped that they would move on and go elsewhere. I remember the chain link rattling, and the whine of the metal bending, then tearing. The walking corpses on the other side pressed up harsh against the giving fence. They slavered and groaned as the press of the many behind them added their weight to the slow uncompromising force. Those ones at the front showed all the signs of having fed, with blood slathered across their jaws and streaming down to their hollow chests. They were no less hungry for that, and still they reached through the gaps, already torn by their relentless onslaught. Alone in the sports yard, I had heard my family die, and all the others in the living area. Their screams quickly silenced by the groans of the undead. Some of the tormented faces glimpsed in the spotlight, had been familiar. Their numbers were bulking with each kill they made. With a groan and clatter the fence gave way, and the metal posts crashed to the ground. Those creatures at the front were soon trodden down by the engulfing wave of moving corpses that poured over them. Wrapped in my waterproof sheet I curled up, praying for a quick death. This was a forlorn hope, as after they caught me, I knew I wouldn’t be truly dead.