Luckily, this is the country. To slightly mangle a quote from Hot Fuzz, everyone and their mums are packing heat around here. Just as well, really.

It started this morning. Or at least, this morning was the first inkling. Who knows when it started, really.

A stray dog bit the postwoman. I was just working up the courage to go out and help her when she bit it back.

We knew things were bad when we saw two young guys in the street, one in a Celtic shirt, one in a Rangers shirt, ignoring each other and tearing into (literally) a third party. Who turned out to be my old primary school teacher, so I wasn't really that upset until she got up again.

So now I'm holed up upstairs. The shitty local radio station stopped broadcasting twenty minutes ago, and apart from the shuffling the village has gone quiet. No cars. No lights coming on. Who knew that my fucking agoraphobia would one day end up saving my life? Don't know if it's a blessing or a curse.

I think I might be the last living person in the Triangle area.

I've got six bullets left.



BLITEOTW