Robert Beetlebum, Esquire at your service. This is my story.
Born and bred in Malton, and I guess now I'll die here too. I was a proud member of the Malton Fire Department, proud husband and father of two. Then a few years ago I hurt my back during a five-alarmer. It was that time when Atkins Cinema burned down, killing all those people; you remember the headlines: "Fifteen fry in Fryerbank." So the Department pensioned me off.
I didn't take well to retirement. Went through a string of pen-pushing jobs, all of which I hated. Let myself go a bit, put on some weight, started drinking. That's when my wife left me, left Malton and took the kids with her. Well at least Bob Junior and Little Susie are safe now.
Then the zombies came.
I was sleeping off the effects of a couple of bottles of the good stuff when I got woken. Some strange noises from downstairs; growling or something and stuff breaking. So I grabbed my old fire axe - a little memento from the service - and stumbled downstairs still in my pyjamas.
Heard someone in the kitchen so I poked my head around the corner. There's this guy, he's got his back to me and he's kinda clawing at one of the cabinets, but there's something weird - like he's not moving right. I figure he's a junkie or something, a wee bit more wasted than I'd been last night.
I call out to him, "Hey pal!". He turns around and, oh my god, half his head is missing. The bastard charges at me. He was on top of me so quick I didn't have time to swing my axe. And there we were rolling around on the kitchen floor, him clawing at me, hissing, trying to bite my face off. I managed to get on top off him, grabbed his head and just slammed it against the floor. Again and again. When he stopped moving I got my axe and chopped his skull in two.
After catching my breath I got up, grabbed myself a beer, plopped down in my armchair and turned on the tv. That pompous wanker Burgundy was doing a special bulettin and saying that zombies.. zombies for fuck's sake.. were crawling through Malton. I just sat there and watched for a while.
Some time later, I heard scratching on the front door. I just got up, retrieved my axe from Mr Zombie and walked out the back. There was a pair of old gumboots in the backyard, and my old firefighter's jacket hanging in the shed.
And that was just the beginning.
