J.L. Bourne’s vision of undead Armageddon was originally documented on his website, where he released the story in regular sections, gradually building up a decent readership, hooked by the convincing detail and logical thoughtfulness behind the unfolding events.

Permuted Press was digging a twisted little fiction furrow all of its own; evolving organically, from mainly zombie-focused fiction to all sorts of apocalyptic scenarios. J.L. Bourne’s Day By Day Armageddon eventually found a new family. As authors continue to take nourishment from George A. Romero’s sequence of Dead films, (themselves ultimately inspired by Matheson’s I Am Legend and it’s undead vampires), pushing out their own personal raptures for our ravenous reading pleasure, Permuted Press’ insidious influence will remain – for as long as they continue to cherry-pick those efforts such as Day By Day Armageddon that are most deserving of our attention.

The chow-down apocalypse can’t come quick enough as far as this geek is concerned. Bring it on. It’d be so cool wouldn’t it? I wouldn’t have to go to work any more! I could kill people, who aren’t really people! It’d be way COOL! Wouldn’t it? Yes, as long as I was safe and secure, with bucket-loads of ammunition and a few survival skills I’d be fine, wouldn’t I?

The main protagonist in Day By Day Armageddon remains unnamed, (or eponymous). He’s a survivor, and a product of the American way. He’s a Navy pilot, trained in survival techniques and how to fire guns. He owns loads of guns. He’s good with electronics. He built a big brick wall around his house, just in case. When the flesh hits the teeth-fan he’s able to barricade his own house relatively quickly. He has supplies from his job that are part of his everyday world anyway – packaged food, weapons, ammunition, gadgets; he has mates on the inside giving him a unique perspective on the growing calamity, plus healthy doses of cynicism and paranoia; and a conscience to boot. He must be the best-placed and well-rounded character ever to face the challenges of an undead world. Monitoring the steadily deteriorating circumstances around the world he quickly makes up his mind to fend for himself, failing to report to base when ordered, justifiably placing more faith in his own abilities than the ponderous bureaucracy of the authorities.

Seriously, this got me thinking. Could I, Mathew F. Riley, be one of the (un)lucky, (unlucky, my arse! Better off dead? My arse. I want to LIVE!), few that survive the outbreak? I commute into London, so by the time the news was out I’d be fricked, unable to avoid contact with the tens of thousands of possible zombies that trek in to the City five days a week. When the bird-flu scare was doing the rounds last year I thought about how I’d avoid becoming a victim if I had to continue going to work. Impossible, so assuming it’s an airborne or touch-transmitted virus I’d be fricked; I get a cold easily since a bout of pneumonia a year or so ago, and have you seen the state of the trains these days?

If, by some miracle of circumstance, I wasn’t undead and wobbling around looking for a nosh, (say I was working at home for the day), then I’d be busy securing my suburban semi-detached Victorian cottage, (with the new decking, which I had to get a carpenter to install as I’m rubbish at DIY), by locking the doors and hoping nobody looks through my net curtains. Actually I’m not rubbish at DIY; I just haven’t done much DIY. Or killing. Could I shoot a zed in the head? Could I plug my neighbour Miriam if she came after me, with her hands outstretched and a sub-bass moan reverberating in her chest? (Let me think about that for a minute…) And, I can’t even wire a plug without the instructions. Oh, another minor detail, I can’t even fricking drive! I think I’ve got my priorities wrong. Having said that, The Day of the Triffids did provide me with an invaluable education, (I never stay up to watch shooting stars if they’re mentioned on the news and I never, ever hang around for an eclipse). I’ve read Max Brooks’ Zombie Survival Guide, and I’ve seen ALL the films, several times. So if it came down to a trivia quiz I’d be fine, well maybe only slightly nibbled, (although we all know that’s enough to turn…)

J.L. Bourne’s survivor knows he has to keep on the move to avoid the millions of trudging undead. Forced from his house to an airport’s control tower, to an island, and ultimately to an off-the-map underground military base (where things get interesting given his insider knowledge), he picks up a few strays on the way, all of whom, for once in a book like this, get on with each other and are able to contribute their talents in an effort to survive. What J.L. Bourne does differently, is to concentrate on those day-to-day details, the small tasks that, when performed individually and as a team, make a real difference to the chances of those caught up in this zed mess. The survivor utilizes his training to ensure he can take care of those who come to depend on him – routine, structure, check, re-check, make lists, be realistic not optimistic.

And there’s another point of difference here. Day By Day Armageddon isn’t just concerned with blood and gore and grinding teeth, (well not much), it’s about the people struggling with their own humanity and struggling to remain in control as government’s fall, (but not before they’ve exacerbated the problem by nuking all the cities and helping slow the zombies’ decomposition with the resulting radiation – cool! Bourne continues this theme of possible zombie evolution by hinting at things as he keeps watch on the zeds through night vision goggles).

In diary form (taking us from January 1^st until May 19^th), Day By Day Armageddon, like the survivors in the story, is pared-down and functional, effective and thoroughly hypnotic. (The sequel’s on its way, and I can’t help but think it’s gonna be a doody, taking this scenario onto a much, much bigger scale as evidenced by the sample chapters included in the back of this edition).

PARAGRAPH(S) OF RESONANCE:

18 54 hrs

I just got off the phone with my buddy Shep in the Marines. He said that there were armed National Guardsmen on the street corners in San Diego and that he was being called in to be a part of his base’s security team. He told me that he was told to move his wife on base to the cold war shelter that was being reopened and that they were going to close the gates and quarantine the base in the event there was an outbreak in that area. The sun is down now. I have motion sensor lights on my house around the perimeter. In the event a looter sneaks over and tries to steal anything, at least the light will go on. When I go to sleep tonight, I will sleep with the Glock under my pillow and the CAR-15 next to my bed.

So, the reality is, I haven’t got a basement, or an attic big enough to hide out in for several weeks or months. I live in Surrey for frick’s sake, in the cul-de-sac of the dead, and I wouldn’t even be able to get my hands on a gun. I haven’t even got a golf club, which is shameful I know at my age, but I’ve never been a fan. I can’t fly a plane, don’t like riding my bike and I struggle to get the damn Tom Tom working. I couldn’t afford to store up a few month’s worth of food from Waitrose either, so I’m absolutely fricked if there’s a zombie apocalypse, or an apocalypse of any kind. I’d be soooooo dead.

BUT, I still can’t help thinking how cool it would be.

And if I were J.L. Bourne, I’d be ready.

Paragraph(s) of Resonance – those passages that particularly hit a nerve with me, and might with you, hopefully giving you a taste of what to expect.

Bookmark to