Our little team spent a quiet night in the van, aided mostly by the unending deployment of jerky treats and peanut butter. Rachel and I took turns napping, recuperating for the day ahead. When the sun started to rise, we prepared to explore. I did a quick health check on all the team members and Rachel took some medication to top up her health bar. We all had a quick breakfast – namely bread we had pilfered from the warehouse, made into a variety of sandwiches for everyone’s tastes. Rachel had cheese and tomato, Rat and Jagger had peanut butter and Artemis had tuna, with Cooper having plain crusts and me having cucumber and cream cheese.

  “Are you having afternoon tea, m’lady?” Rachel joked, picking on my fancy finger sandwiches.

  “Well, if you can’t have tea sandwiches in a van packed with animals, sitting in the middle of an old farm, potentially surrounded by zombies, when can you?” I retorted.

  The two of us had a giggle as we finished eating. Light poured over the horizon and illuminated the area in front of us. The dirt road on which we were parked led down to what seemed to be a makeshift village, flanked on both sides by small whitewashed and wooden buildings and waist-height fences.

  The big building we had seen last night sat to the left of us, next to a large lake. It was a two-storey whitewashed building with pokey little windows and a terracotta-coloured roof.

  The team and I got out of the van and started wandering around.

  “Gosh, this place looks very old!” I said to Rachel. “Like it’s not meant to be in this game. I thought we were in the 1990s?”

  “We are. I wonder if they have a mod installed?” Rachel replied.

  I looked across to Rachel and shrugged, having not ever used a mod and not really knowing what she meant.

  “I think perhaps it’s best if you keep your scatterguns in your overalls,” I said to Rachel, remembering the party of ‘friends’ that attended the warehouse.

  “Yeah, yeah, okay – but no setting the place on fire!” she quipped back, smiling with an impish grin.

  I unzipped my bag and closed out of the menu, noticing on the way that I had gained a skill level in first-aid, filling the first two boxes completely. I reached into my bag and pulled out the crowbar.

  “I do love the TARDIS bag,” I said to Rachel.

  She grabbed her hatchet and we started to walk down the road towards the big house.

  Rat and Jagger ran ahead to the building and started their prowl. Jagger had now started to copy Rat on his recon missions, spurred on by the promise of playing with his toy upon completion of a good job. Cooper sat on my shoulder and Artemis trailed behind Rachel, begrudgingly following along on the adventure.

  After the dogs returned, it seemed there were no immediate zombie problems, so we walked up to the house and opened the small wooden front door.

  “This is such a short door!” Rachel said. “I nearly have to duck – and I’m practically a hobbit!”

  We walked inside and I asked Rat to do a check of the place. He and Jagger ran upstairs as Rachel and I checked downstairs with the others.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  After a couple of minutes, we had established that the place was empty, but it was empty in a strange way. It was like we had come into a museum rather than a lived-in house.

  In the front entrance room was a small, sooty open fireplace, a small carved wooden table with a candle, and two shonky Windsor chairs. Next to the fireplace lay a small set of bellows and a pot that had been suspended inside the fireplace by some sort of iron-chain contraption. With nothing terribly relevant to pilfer, we headed upstairs to a pair of small bedrooms. Beds and standalone wardrobes were in each. The beds were cloaked in pale-coloured patchwork quilts, and one had atop of it a long brass and wooden bed warmer.

  “What on earth is that?” Rachel remarked.

  “That’s a bed warmer. You’d put hot coals inside to heat up your bed back in the day. I’m sure I’ve seen one before, a long time ago,” I replied.

  Rat jumped on the bed and shoved the bed warmer to the floor, curling up on the comfy quilt. Rachel and Jagger went over to the second room and I started snooping.

  Looking through one of the wardrobes, I managed to find a small crinoline, a ruffled pale-blue bonnet and a pair of off-white lace gloves.

  Rachel was rifling through the other room’s wardrobe and stuck her head out into the tiny adjoining hallway.

  “Look at this!” she said, frolicking about with a shako on top of her curly brown locks. “I’m keeping this!”

  “This place certainly is weird. Maybe it’s some sort of antiques shop?” I pondered aloud.

  We walked downstairs and headed back out to the road. As we continued, a field was on our right, surrounded by a short wooden-post-and-rail fence. On the side of the field, close to the fence, were several animal troughs, some full of water and some with grain and chaff. In the middle of the field was a wooden teepee-like structure. Curious, I decided to jump the fence and check it out. I walked into the paddock, dogs and Rachel trailing behind me. Way across the field, I noticed a small white sheep, silently munching on some grass. I approached the triangular contraption and found on the ground a long leather whip.

  “Wow! I could use a whip now I’m a cowgirl!” I said.

  I picked up the whip and decided to test it. I had never picked up a whip in my life, so it was unlikely much would happen.

  “CRACK!” The whip snapped in the air, the tiny sonic boom ringing out over the field.

  “BAAAA!” The sheep bleated as he scurried off, spooked.

  “Whoops!” I said, turning around to the crew.

  “Dude, you’re Level 7 on rope – what did you think was going to happen?” Rachel said.

  “I didn’t think I could do it!” I replied as we all hurried out of the paddock, away from where the sound emanated.

  We got back over the fence and continued down the dirt road. Coming up on the left was a smaller path with a pole at the crossroads. The pole was clad with arrows pointing in different directions. A sign pointing left read ‘Tea Shoppe’, one pointing straight read ‘Privvys’, and another slightly more to the right read ‘Tavern’, seemingly pointing at the small brick building with bay windows ahead.

  “I think I know where we are!” I exclaimed. “I remember coming here when I was a little girl!”

  I thought back to a photo album I’d looked at many times with my mum, going through our trips together. “I think we’re in Old Sydney Town!”

  Pleased with my recollection, I looked over at Rachel and smirked.

  “So is that like an amusement park?” Rachel asked.

  “Think less like Disneyland and more like Colonial Williamsburg,” I replied. “There should be some cool stuff here!”

  “And we haven’t seen anyone at all so far; I guess no-one came to work during the zompocalypssssse…” Rachel said, drawing out the sibilant as a wince came over her face. Rat grunted, preparing to defend.

  “We’ve got company,” she said.

  Plonking clumsily down the road was a rather hefty zombie man. He was wearing a trefoil hat, blue waistcoat and white shirt. He kicked dirt along as he dragged his feet on the track.

  “What’s that he’s got in his hand?” I asked.

  The zombie raised his left hand and a glint of sunlight reflected off the shiny brass bell he was carrying. He brought his hand down violently, the bell tolling as he shook it around.

  “Gararagh!” the zombie called out loudly.

  “Awowoooo,” Jagger replied in earnest.

  Pouring out of the surrounding buildings came a varied cast of characters. Soldiers in their red coats, women with aprons and parasols, vagrants, prisoners and even a reverend.

  The throng collected behind what we now knew to be the town crier and started towards us.

  I turned to Rachel and steadied my crowbar. “Looks like they had no sick leave left!”