Here's my narrative - continuation of Munna's story
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Some weird stuff has been going on. Some pages were discovered, and are kept in wraps by the higher officials. No one knows what led to the FSB zombie outbreak, or more importantly, if there were any survivors. An entry from one of the pages has been leaked though. It provides an insight into the entire affair..
Irrespective, one thing is clear: These are dark times. Even the shadow that follows one is not worth an iota of trust.
June 28, 2014
Day 29
The heat is unbearable. Our survival in this heat without any fan or air conditioning is a far bigger feat than our survival of the freaking zombie apocalypse. I’m beginning to rhyme, must be losing my mind. Crap. There I go again.
I wish I could say it seems futile to write down these words. I’ll admit I had lost all hope some time back, but [MENTION=135402]cricket083[/MENTION] has registered some success with the ancient radio. Tsk Tsk. How selfish of me. I should probably be giving the reader a brief background of our circumstances, instead of rambling on. I’m not as uncivil in real life – believe me, it’s the heat. Not that it should matter. We don’t exactly have a concrete plan on surviving, so perhaps these words don’t matter at all now, do they?
I can barely keep my eyes open with the sweat flooding my eyes. Anyhow. Back to why we are here.
The story of Faisalabad’s own little zombie apocalypse should now be known to everyone. If not, then well – there was a zombie breakout from God knows where. Was it a virus (like in Resident Evil games), or a planned attack – I do not know. What I was doing in FSB is also another mystery. Anyway, back to – yes. Almost all PPers succumbed to cruel fate, turning zombies and cannibals and whatnot. 083 and I haven’t been scouting outside in the danger to discover the true nature of this zombie-pan. But this was our little back story.
How did 2 girls survive this? With a few mistimed shots, and a whole lot of luck.
We were able to find a trapdoor in Munna’s kitchen, one which led into a small bunker of sorts, underneath the trapdoor in the kitchen. There were some foods packed away for emergency – including home-made pickles, canned vegetables, rice and bags of flour. There is a tiny stove, powered by an ancient-looking gas cylinder which 083 and I are frankly, too scared to touch. Since we can’t cook, we’ve been living off achaar and sabzian for quite a while now. But food intake is not the issue. Water is.
Before I forget, there is also an ancient radio. More on that later.
We’ve successfully made 9 missions to the “outside world” in a bid to get water from the nearby well. Twice we were attacked by some of the newer members of PP – [MENTION=137260]Noora420[/MENTION] and [MENTION=137324]KarachiKing[/MENTION]. Single-phassli, as I would classify them. The attacks were fended off easily with the kitchen knives. The well is thankfully, hardly 10 paces from the house. It’s a 30-second trip one-way, provided there is no attack.
During our outside visits, we once made it a point to feed the livestock trapped inside a small hut, next to the well. [MENTION=5411]Zohaib Shah[/MENTION] occasionally guarded it, although he’d be too lost in his own thoughts to attack us. In our 7th outing, we realised that from 2 goats, 5 chickens and 1 cow, a goat and 2 chickens were butchered – by zombies. Ravaged upon, rather. This led to 2 conclusions, in our minds: firstly, there were no humans left on the surface of FSB, and second: these zombies were intelligent, and could adapt. We’ve never checked on the livestock after that.
[MENTION=39010]Munna[/MENTION] ’s house itself is infested with zombies, who, as surprising as it is, behave differently now with no human presence in their sights. There is a distinct formation of a zombie society, complete with hierarchies, exclusivity and their own unique anthropology. The capacity to process such thoughts is not borne by everybody, although one of the zombies spouts of random facts about Pakhtun ancestry before being smacked on the head by other zombies (perhaps its [MENTION=78856]akheR[/MENTION]). [MENTION=2071]saadibaba[/MENTION], [MENTION=22846]Nostalgic[/MENTION] and [MENTION=1889]Saqs[/MENTION] constitute some form of zombie jirga – they sit about drinking weird hukkah (infused with blood from their previous victims, or perhaps, the cow). Poor Helda (083 and I named the livestock. It seemed appropriate).
Zombie language too, is a novel phenomenon. A distinct form of pidgin jargon, a complex mix of English, Urdu, Irish and Pashto is being widely used by the zombie population. Zombies, by nature perhaps, seem incapable of using more than 2 syllables. There’s a lot of grunting, not gambit hedges by themselves (fillers), but in fact carry their own meaning. Moreover, 1 zombie is almost constantly involved in quizzing the other about certain words for – from my limited knowledge of the original language – Pashto. This zombie perhaps wants to learn Pashto (@96NotOut), but her male counterpart can’t stop screaming “Doom! Doom! Doom!” [MENTION=131701]Mamoon[/MENTION]).
Munna’s place in FSB has this weird, illegal 2nd/3rd light-system (connected to an intricate kunda network) – so no loadshedding in the house. Delightful, isn’t it? Zombies sleep in the AC while 083 and I suffer in the heat under the kitchen trapdoor. Our few sources of entertainment include playing a game of "guess the zombie". There are some fascinating snoring patterns, unique to certain zombies. The one we call [MENTION=131701]Mamoon[/MENTION] would frequently scream out “Doom! We’re doomed!” before being slapped by any other grumbling zombie for disturbing their sleep (We’re pretty sure at this point that it’s definitely him). The cries of “jalsa, jalsa! Dharna, dharna!” (@Hawkeye) and “N-leeg! Gullu Butt!” [MENTION=62431]A[/MENTION]Z) are also not uncommon. This however, results in intense in-fighting over Pakistani politics. Such fickle creatures are these Pakistani zombies. Hardly let us sleep in peace.
Since there is electricity, the electronics in the house are also used frequently. Particularly, the TV and the toaster. [MENTION=6745]DHONI183[/MENTION] (I presume) was found listening to Bollywood songs and reciting poetry, whereas ever since Italy got eliminated, one zombie plays non-stop with the toaster for some unfathomable reason [MENTION=62431]A[/MENTION]zzurrii). Someone got sick of listening to KK all the time, and they broke the TV. Dhoni183’s never been the same ever since. I’m guessing the perpetrator was [MENTION=136108]Donal Cozzie[/MENTION].
This, is the sum of our artillery: an array of kitchen knives and rolling-pins, a tiny tomahawk, 2 pistols and a Kalashnikov (mugged from [MENTION=39010]Munna[/MENTION] at the last moment). Exactly 7 bullets left in it. 2 bullets a piece in each of the pistols. We’ve guessed we could use the gas cylinder as an explosive, although it’s hard to carry. Should necessity dictate it, of course. I think it will.
The ancient radio someone thoughtfully packed away in this trapdoor/basement (instead of drinking water) has been the only beacon of hope for us. 083 has been struggling with for some time. Our plan is to somehow catch the frequency under which the Pak Army operates, and update them of our predicament. I sincerely regret not taking my course on Modern Espionage sooner.
Neither of us had decided to live this way, and we will most certainly not allow ourselves to die this way. I have a plan. All we need is for the damn radio to work. But even if it doesn’t, I’ll get us out alive. We’re here only until our food supply lasts. We’re getting out, soon enough now.
It is time.
- BL
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Sorry about the length guys.. I'm gaining some momentum back