We were having a picnic in Cannon Hill park. I was making silly faces at Jemma when a man came running towards the lake, screaming. His face is covered in blood, it is all over his shirt and dripping down onto the front of his trousers. He is actually growling. As he hits the pool , most of us run to edge of the lake. A man dives into the water. Seconds later he bobs to the surface. His neck is open and he is screaming, he keeps saying “Run Claire, Run!”
That was yesterday. They pulled Jemma out of her pram and ripped her apart.The last I saw of my wife Helen she was running into the the arts centre. I cannot speak. I have no words to deal with this. A man called Aiden or maybe Adam pulled me into a house. We are locked in the basement. All we hear is screaming and gunfire. None of know each other, we do not know what to say to each other. Someone hands me an enamel mug filled with lukewarm tea and whiskey. It smells bitter and I cannot drink it. There is a small room separate from the rest of the cellar, I can hear adam, I had misheard his friend calling to him the first time, talking to the people trapped here. He sounds brave and resourceful. As I am washing my hand I pull back my shirt sleeve. I have a red and obviously infect bite one my forearm. I think that when we were running to the house one of those… things bit me. I touch it very gently but even so blood and pus shoot out of the bitemarks.
I have a terrible headache. My stomach is cramping, I feel so hungry. I pull down my shirtsleeve and walk back up the stairs into the basement. Adam Pauses and nods in my direction. “You okay mate?” He smells warm and sweet.