Speaker 1: M HM. Welcome to Dark Tales uncovered. As we continue
our descent into the nightmare of Zombie Island, White to
the Living Dead. In chapter to the Last Fairy, the
terror deepens. The few remaining souls on the Isle of
Wight are desperate to escape. The sun sets over the
horizon as the Last Fairies very depart prepares to depart,
but something is wrong. A fog. Thick fog rolls in,
swallowing the coastline with it. Eerie sounds echo from the shadows.
The Fairy becomes a beacon of hope for the survivors,
but also a target for the growing Horde of the undead.
Time is running out and escape is no longer guaranteed.
Will the survivors make it across the waters, or will
the Last Fairy be their final ride into darkness? Stay
tuned as the horror intensifiers. Chapter two, The Last Fairy,
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the Isle of
Wight and an eerie twilight as the group huddled inside
the old lighthouse. The air inside was thick with fear
and uncertainty, punctuated by the distant sounds of waves crashing
against the cliffs. Emma could hear the tourists whispering amongst themselves,
their voices trembling as they tried to make sense of
what they had just witnessed. Emma's mind raced as she
replayed the events of the last few minutes. It's the
man's bloodstained teeth, the unnatural hunger in his eyes. There
was no denying it. Whatever was happening on the island
was beyond anything she could have imagined. She had to
think clearly to figure out what to do next. We
need to stay calm, Emma said, raising her voice just
enough to cut through the rising panic. The most important
thing to do now is to stay safe and find
out what is happening. Does anyone have a working phone?
A few people checked their phones, but the shaken looks
on their faces told her all she needed to know.
No signal. It was if the island had been cut
off on the rest of the world great and had
muttered under her breath. She turned her attention to the
back door, pressing her ear against it, listening for any
signs outside, any sounds outside. The silence was almost as
unnerving than the growls she had heard earlier. She needed
to know of the zombie if that's what it really was,
was still out there. I don't hear anything, she said
after a few moments, stepping away from the door. But
we can't stay here forever. We need to figure out
a way to get off the island, or at least
get to a safer location. The tourists exchange nervous glances.
One of them, a young man in his twenties with
a backpack slung over his shoulder, stepped forward. My name's Mark,
he said, and I think we should head back to town.
There's got to be authorities handling this, right, police, military, someone.
Emma hesitated, that's the logical thing to do. But my
brother just called. He's a paramedic, and he just said
things are out of control and sanddown. The police are
overwhelmed and the fairies have stopped. The virus is spreading fast,
and we can't assume the towns are safe. But we
can't just stay here. The middle aged woman who had
question DeMar exclaimed, what if more of those things, those
things come will be trapped. Emma knew she was right.
The lighthouse, while sturdy, wasn't built to withstand a siege,
especially not from something as relentless as a horde of zombies.
They needed to move. But where do any of you
know the island world, she asked, scanning the group. Mark
shook his head, as most of the others did, but
while man, older and dressed in a tweet jacket, raised
his hand. I've been visiting the island for years. I
know a few places that might be safe, at least temporarily.
Emma nodded, feeling a flicker of hope. Good. What's your name, George,
the man replied, But there's an old manor house about
a mile in land from here. It's been abandoned for years,
but it's sturdy and there's a good chance it hasn't
been overrun yet. But we can make it there. We
might have a good chance of holding out until or
help arise an abandoned house. Another tourist, a young woman
with a camera around her next, said skeptically, that sounds
like the beginning of a horror movie. Emma couldn't argue
of that, but they didn't have many options. It's either
that or they stay here and wait for those things
to find us. If we're going to move, we need
to do it now before it gets completely dark. The
group fell silent, considering their options. Finally, Mark nodded, Okay,
the manor house is let's go. Emma unbolted the door.
Peeking outside, the path was clear and there was no
sign of the zombie that had chased her earlier. She
motioned for the others to follow her out into the
cool evening air. The wind had picked up, and the
shadows of the trees loomed large and menacing against the
darkening sky. Stay close, Emma whispered, as they began marking
their way along the cliffside path. We don't know how
many of those things are out here, and we can't
afford to get separated. The group moved quickly but cautiously,
their footsteps muffled by their grasp by the grass on
the foot. The only sounds were the wind and the
distance crashing of the waves, which seemed to grow louder
as the night descended. Emma kept a vigilant eye on
their surroundings, her heart pounding with each step. She couldn't
shake the feeling that they were being watched. As they
rounded the bend, a faint glow of distant lights came
into view down below. In the small harbor town of Yarmouth,
the last ferry was preparing to leave the island. From
their vantage point, they could see a crowd gathered at
the dock, people pushing and shoving to get aboard. Mark pointed,
we should go there. If we can get on that ferry,
we could get off the island. For a moment, Emma
was tempted. Their ferry was the best shot escape, and
the idea of leaving the island before things got too
worse was under deniably appealing. Or she knew that heading
down into town went walking straight into potential death trap.
The ducks were crowded, and even if one person there
was infected, no, Emma said, firmly, shaking her head. It's
too risky. If those things are already in town, we
could be walking right into a massacre. We need to
stick to the plan and move and head for the manner.
The group hesitated the allure of the ferry pulling at them,
but eventually they all nodded in agreement. They continued along
the path, leaving the flickering lights of the harbor behind.
As they moved further inland, the sounds of the town faded,
replaced by the rustling of lees and the occasional hoop
of an owl. The manner was just ahead, hidden by
a dense grove of trees. Emma could feel the weight
of their decision bearing down on her. She prayed they
had made the right choice. Suddenly, the sound of branches
snapping echoed through the air. Emma froze her eyes. Darting
towards the source of the noise and the dim light,
she saw a movement figures emerging from the trees. At first,
she thought it might be other survivors, but as she
came closer, she saw the telltale signs of tattered clothes,
lifeless eyes, and blood soaked mouths. Run Emma shouted, adrenaline
surging through her veins. The group broke into a sprint,
racing towards the manner. As the zombies emerged from the woods,
their moans growing louder more desperate. Emma could hear the
heavy breathing of the others as they pushed themselves to
move faster. The manor house climbing into view through the trees,
Mark leading Away reached the front door first and threw
it opened. Get inside quick. One by one, the group
rushed into the man Emma bringing up the rear. She
glanced back as just as the first zombie reached the
edge of the clearing, it let out a guttural snarl,
its eyes locking onto where as it charged. Emma slammed
the door shut, bolting it as the first of the
undead slammed into the wood with a sickening thud. The
others were already barricading the windows with whatever furniture they
could find, pushing old, dusty chairs against the table and
tables against the glass. We can't stay here long, Emma said,
her breath ragged as she helped drag a heavy bookcase
from them in front of the door. We need to
find a safer room, something with fewer windows. George, who
had been frantically searching the house, cooled out from the hallway.
There's a cellar. It looks secure and the door is
solid oak. We can barras barricade ourselves down there. Good thinking,
Emma replied. Everyone moved to the cellar. The group hurried
down the narrow staircase. The sounds of zombies pounding against
the door grew louder with each pass and second. Emma
waited until the last person was inside before shutting the
heavy cellar door behind them. She secured it with the
metal bar and leaned against it, her heart racing. In
the dim light of the cellar, they huddled together, their
faces pale with fear. The only sounds were the frantic
beating of their hearts and the muffled buds of the
undead above them. As the adrenaline began to wear off,
the reality of their situation settled in. They were tracked
in an old, abandoned manner on the island that had
been turned into a nightmare, with no way of knowing
that what awaited them in the coming hours. We'll be
safe here for now, Emma said, trying to sound more
confident than she felt. We'll wait until the morning and
then we'll figure out our next move. The group nodded,
too exhausted and terrified to argue. Emma sat on the
cold stone floor, her back against the wall. She couldn't
stop thinking about Tom, about the last fairy leave in
the harbor, and about the unknown horrors that awaited them
on the Isle of Wight. Outside the island was silent,
but it was a silent filled with a promise of dread.
The night had only just begun,