They preferred the cold silence of the abandoned things we left behind. The derelict coastal towns weren't enough any more. It was only a matter of weeks before they began to actively chase us out of our homes so that they could move further inland.
We were becoming trapped, landlocked on an island with our escape routes routinely being blocked or barricaded by the bodies of anyone who hadn't moved fast enough. After what felt like years (though in reality was about five weeks) they had us caged somewhere in the Lake District, surrounded by mountains of stone and corpse alike.
I was one of the lucky few who never found someone they knew in the walls, most of the others caught glimpses of familiarity and either took comfort in knowing that their loved ones weren't suffering or took it as an insult that their dearly departed weren't resting below as they should be.
Close to the walls you can hear the rumbling and cracking of our captors as they destroy everything in their path, carving their utopia from this new dystopia.
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