World War Zed

8. Interview with: Jenna Lehmann

Boulder, Colorado, USA

Interview with: Jenna Lehmann

One of the more unusual locations for an interview perhaps, but I meet Jenna in the middle of a field of potatoes. She works with a team of other tanned and healthy-looking people, and as I approach her, she leans on her hoe. The only slightly odd thing about her is the Samurai sword that rests on a blanket nearby.

Her team leader agrees to give her a few minutes to talk to me, and we sit on a rusting plough that stands idly on the side of the field, her sword slung jauntily across her back. 

Although a grey day, it is warm and muggy with the promise of a storm that will roll off the heights of the Rockies, and the workforce is uniformly attired in jeans and t-shirts. They form the main farming team for the commune that has sprung up in the shadow of the mountains since the end of the war. Jenna takes a swig of water from a flask and begins her tale:

"I wasn't really sure what woke me up, but I really wasn't in the mood to face it. I'd had a particularly bad trip the night before, and had ended up drinking myself into oblivion to try and knock myself out before my demons got me.

"As was my morning habit, I rolled a spliff, smoked myself stupid, and passed out again.

"I was a mess. I'd been living in a cramped loft for six months with an on and off boyfriend, and I'd hit a new low: I'd started selling to support my own habit. Unfortunately, I wasn't very good at it, and I'd overindulged on what I was meant to be selling. That meant I now owed gang members money.

"The second time I came around a few hours later, it was to a muffled thudding. The loft was at the top of a three-storey building. Up until 1950 or so it had been an old school apparently, but it had been badly converted into a group of shitty apartments. It was a shame really, the building was lovely, and had an ornate staircase that ran up through to the skylight at the top of the stairs.

"The thumping at the door carried on, and I thought the gang had come to get me.

"Dwayne, my fella, was a bit of a loser, but he came tooled up and ready for situations like this. He'd been a dealer off and on for years, so was used to getting busted or beaten up occasionally.

"I knew it wasn't the police, they usually shouted "This is the Police" (bit of a giveaway really) or just busted the door. The door was still holding due to the number of bolts Dwayne had put on it, but the thudding was getting intense, so I grabbed Dwayne's gun from under the pillow, and then, shaking like hell from fear and drugs, I went to the door.

"It was rattling in its frame. I quietly slipped off the safety, undid the bolts and flung the door wide open, pointing my gun at the hallway outside. As I did, I shouted at the top of my voice, telling them to shut up and er... go away. It wasn't the gang. It wasn't Dwayne either. It was something far worse.

"A dirty looking man stood there in tattered clothes, staring right through me. Blood was crusted around his mouth and his eyes seemed to be utterly colourless. He raised a hand and sorta lurched towards me, moaning horribly. I don't know why, but I just reacted. I shot him in the head.

"As he keeled over backward into the hallway, more moaning started up from outside the halls of the apartments below, and more still from outside. I slammed the door shut, slammed the bolts home and barricaded it with a solid chest of drawers. Then I looked out of the window.

"It was chaos. A few people were running around screaming, one poor old man was being physically torn apart by a group of about five Zeds. As far as I could see there were shambling forms moving into houses and pulling out people or animals.