Read more of Ella at The End Of The World
We’ve been driving for what feels like forever, so we’ve stopped for the night.
Apparently, we are close, and I’ve learned my lesson from last time, so I’m taking Martin’s word for it, although, he apparently has no clue where we’re going either and is just following Mary’s instructions…
He’s been so lovely today. I felt a bit ill earlier (a headache from lack of sleep, he reckons), so he pulled over for a bit and let me get into the back seat so I could sleep for a while, and he kept checking on me all day.
When I woke up, he had the radio on, very softly. It was Frank. We hadn’t heard him for a while, but he was updating everyone about how things were in London. Apparently it’s been brutal. Some of the soldiers had turned against the government and were refusing to “clean up the streets” but there isn’t enough good guys to outweigh the bad. People in London won’t dare to go outside, in case they meet the wrong kind of soldier. The government are spinning it, and saying that the only people shot are infected, but Frank had a soldier on air with him who swears different.
Apparently, a very ill looking Boris Johnson was wheeled out for a press conference too. He didn’t say much, and most of it was Rishi Sunak answering, while Boris stared off into the distance. Frank reckons they’ve tried some kind of experimental treatment on Boris after he (allegedly) got infected, and they’re still working on making him appear more human. I tried to find a clip on YouTube or Twitter, but they’ve all been mysteriously taken down, which kind of makes Frank’s claims seem a bit more realistic, to be honest.
Anyway, zombie PM or no zombie PM, it’s time for bed.
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