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I wanted to help the horse so much but I knew they would of tore me to pieces, so with tears rolling down my eyes I watched a pack of at least a hundred dogs drag it to its doom. The Rottweiler watched as the horse was dragged towards it, they seem to have locked eyes at one point and the Rottweiler bit down hard on the magnificent horse’s throat. A few of the dogs started to bite into the horse but the Rottweiler growled at them to leave it alone.  Once it was sure the horse was dead the Rottweiler ripped off a front leg and sauntered over to the pile of torn panties next to the rape bed and it lay down on them and started to chew at the severed appendage. The other dogs swarmed on the horse’s carcass after a few seconds only the bones remained. I waited for what seemed like a eternity until the dogs once more moved off for

 another hunt, as the dogs passed by my car I held my breath so as not to make a sound. Once I was sure they were gone and with a heavy heart I set off back to my bolt hole to get drunk and to raise a toast to that magnificent creature that had met its fate on a bed of soiled petals.

My bolt hole no longer felt safe after what I had just witnessed. I decided that I would head down south and leave the countryside once and for all.

Martin turned off his Dictaphone and got back into his car. His drive to London was fairly uneventful; he had on three occasions had to drive down the railway tracks because of the cars and dead bodies littering the roads. He found that by using this method of travel he was able to reach his destination fairly unhindered.

As he drove down the railway track towards King’s Cross station, he noticed that someone had used a bull dozer to smash down two of the ticket barriers to make a gap big enough for a vehicle to get through. He wondered who did that, after all as far as he had seen he was the only person left alive without the Goya virus.

There was one other curious little scene of devastation up ahead of him; Platform four had suffered the impact of a major train crash.

He decided to park his car up and have a quick look around before he made his next move.  After walking past the entrance to the London underground, he found his advance blocked by a huge traffic jam.

He gazed around at the silent vehicles all around him, he was disgusted to find that some of the vehicles still had occupants, albeit silent one’s.

He spent a few hours sight seeing; he hadn’t been down to London since his father’s stag night nearly twelve years ago. His fathers new wife was a nice woman, he had been glad at the time that they had been happy. Like all the rest though, they were dead now.

Once he had decided that he was going to stay at Kew gardens for the night, he spent the next hour or so walking there. Once he was safe and secure in the security room, he flicked on his Dictaphone.

As my feet echoed through the cavernous building I came across a scene of devastation. One of the trains had plowed into platform 4 it was clear that it had hit people who had been waiting for the train. The handle of a charred buggy glinted up at me from underneath the remnants of the train’s nose. I knew straight away the fate that had befell a child, retching I turned away leaving the train behind me.

On my way out I decided against having a look down the underground platforms, all I wanted really was somewhere warm to sleep, somewhere safe.

After another half an hour of sightseeing I decided that I needed to make plans as to where I was going to spend the night.

I started to remember my childhood and I remembered going to Kew gardens with my father, when I was a young boy.

Kew gardens was set up as a place where horticulturists could expand there current knowledge of botany and science under one roof, they did everything from researching the unmapped the DNA barcode of plants to preserving exotic butterflies from Peru .

I remembered when I was about ten years old that my father had took me there as a treat. We arrived early so we could see the place before the tourists arrived in force. We more or less could wander around the place and pretend it was our own. We played a game of hide and seek, and we fed the beautiful coy carp in the indoor pond, it was a great day. I remembered the splendor of temperate house, at the time it held Britain ’s largest collection of subtropical plants. There was a plant there called the Proteas it was a beautiful red and yellow crown of a plant that hailed from South Africa .

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