drm 30 8 10

on gangster film sets, were the gansters are real. doing odd jobs that i am not very good at. then in houses on the edge of town, preparations for a celebration or the coming of a war. there is a pub half made of menhirs, or stones that used to guide the way. we go inside a great tudor house owned by a family we know. the inside is vast like an institution, with playing halls and the like. we have stored food, and preapre for the end of the world.
but then it goes wrong, and we are not safe. i flee with a young child to try and get to safety, there is no room across the roofs, the undead have blocked that path and are lurking there. we try across the ornanental suburban gardens, white picket fences should keep them at bay.
we run but there are soldiers falling from, the sky, shooting anything that moves. the child runs but i am trapped, i fall as if dead and the soldiers are fooled. they do not move away though. the war is over, though they do not know they too will not be allowe to outlive it. there are bombs attached to them, and i hope that i am far enough away when they detonate them.