User:Wootle

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My Borehamwood profile- [1]

Journal of a Borehamwood police officer

18th December 2008

Found an old book; decided to write to calm my nerves; every day seems darker and every night seems colder, they roam the streets, familiar people rendered unrecognisable. Saw Karlin-or, what's left of him, he was with a small mob of them, gathered round a police station like moths to a flame. Travelled the various buildings; people are huddled together for warmth, complete strangers united; criminals and decent people united by one emotion: fear. Saw one cornered by one of them; he looked to me for help, but with a heavy heart and an empty gun, I left him to his fate. Bullets are a precious commodity, getting rarer and rarer each day; worth more to me than my weight in gold. Went to a police station; they had broken in, I grabbed a clip, fired twice, hit once, and left.

19th December 2008

Collected more ammunition, fired at a couple of them; heading south. It is a surprise that the station is not ruined yet, but it shall happen; it is almost a certainty that everything will be destroyed and that everyone will be killed, a fact I try to avoid as much as possible. Only 3 clips and 2 shells. The man I saw yesterday is most likely dead...there was nothing I could do.

20th December 2008

It is almost over. Radlett was almost taken today; moved south; forced to take shelter in the wilderness like an animal - but there is no true shelter. Had time to think; perhaps there is no escape from that fate of an animal, we either are slaughtered like common, squirming animals in the dark, slaughtered by friends, family, companions, never to be seen; never to be known of; left in the dirt to be forgotten, a statistic in a document locked deep underground. Or, we become one of them, a creature only driven to feed; a creature with no feelings, or capacity to reason; and when that happens, when every man woman and child in this city has been turned; then what? Thoughts linger on absent friends, on the Row; that hellish night. But there is still hope, as long as there is life, there is hope.

21st December 2008

Continued to move south, found a ruined building for shelter; was rudely awakened by one of them; slept outside again. I haven't felt the warm, reassuring comfort of a bed for a long time, no one has.

22nd December 2008

I have left the countryside and I am now back in the city; found a safe pub to sleep in; time to drown my sorrows; time to think. But I must move on, there is no time for respite. Is this our fate? To live a life of relative comfort only to be brutally ripped away from friends and family; only to spend the rest of our days running; running from a certain death, only to eventually fail; never to be buried, no one leaves roses, no one cares for Borehamwood.

23rd December 2008

I must keep moving, I fear Elstree will be next. Have not seen my surviving colleagues for some time; I presume they are dead. That leaves me, last man standing of a once great establishment. I still remember how we were before; spirits were high; crime was down. The morning before we found a man; collapsed on the road, heart attack we assumed. We checked the CCTV at Adair Lane; man just fell down and lay there, stiff; last hour of shift, the others were watching that TV show again; that's when we saw it; it suddenly made sense; phoned the morgue; no answer. A friend of mine in the north east phoned me; army was setting up around the border; never heard from him again. We knew what we had to do, we didn't like it, but we did it; confiscated firearms were handed out; prisoners joined our cause; and it began. Perhaps we were foolish, thinking we would be safe, it was irrelevant however; we were police officers; we did our jobs.

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