We all stood together for a few moments and surveyed the carnage. We were quiet. Solemn.

Bodies were strewn across hedges or flung against the embankment like so much trash, casually tossed aside by zombies who’d had their fill. The bright mix of daffodils and daisies scattered throughout the landscaping, once so bright and cheerful were now crushed and spattered with blood and ichor.

The zombies were nowhere to be seen and the streets were empty. Either they had wandered off in their stumbling, bumbling manner or who ever was responsible for them had called them back. As Simone and I clutched each other and gazed with glazed eyes at the dreadful scene, Dad and Liam quietly and reverently began to gather up the dead.

If you have been bitten or even eaten by one of these ‘stupid’ zombies, you won’t return as one. That’s a myth. You’re simply dead. And probably mangled. No, these people, these wonderful people who came to support a True Zombie’s right to civil liberties were slaughtered. And it was my fault.