Ridgetown: A zombie apocalypse novel by Philip Radford

Author:Philip Radford [Radford, Philip]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Philip Radford
Published: 2016-04-19T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

When they had reached the wall, Helen had felt apprehensive. As they approached the pub she had felt sick, reminded of how close she had come to not surviving the onslaught. Now, in the daylight and without a zombie in sight, it seemed like a totally different place.

Compared to the pub, which looked quite uninviting with its boarded up windows and doors, the church had huge stained glass windows that lit up, reflecting the sunlight. She had barely noticed them in the dying light the previous day but now they shone like a beacon, something that she found confusing.

"Shouldn't the windows on the church be boarded up as well?"

Mercifully, Mark and Allister had stopped holding hands and had given up trying to embarrass Luke and Helen.

"We've not really seen a need, to be honest. When you get up to the church, you'll see that the windows only start at head height. They let a lot of light inside and they look nice. The area looks depressing enough as it is, if we can add a bit of colour then we will do."

"When we get back, I'll introduce you to Cass, she's keen on making Ridgetown as aesthetically pleasing as possible. She's like a breath of fresh air sometimes. She likes to grow plants and flowers and stuff as well as fruit and vegetables. She makes figures out of scrap and carves sculptures out of wood. Some of them are pretty crap, but that's not the point. She does little things like that to remind us of who we are. We're not just faceless survivors, we're people. It's not enough just to exist, we need to live as well."

Mark's little speech caught Helen unprepared. She hadn't expected such deep philosophy from asking about boarding up some windows. It surprised her that he thought so deeply about their situation. She supposed she had fallen into that trap herself. Days of surviving had blended into weeks, into months, routine taking over. Not stopping to smell the roses once in a while.

They entered the play area and climbed the wall, negotiating the walkway onto the roof of the pub and into the room on the top floor Helen had sent the distress call from. She hadn't really paid any attention to the room last time she was in it but it was nothing spectacular. At the back of the room were the two backpacks of supplies that she and Mark and had brought yesterday, expecting to resupply the safe house with them. Allister picked up hers and they went back onto the walkway, this time crossing the gap across the road to the roof of the church. Helen definitely wasn't a fan of that.

The walkway across the road was made up from the same erratic collection of materials as the rest of the walkway and relied heavily on the overhanging trees for support. Rather than make a solid structure that could be brittle, Mark and the others had designed the bridge as more of a floating platform.

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