Read a ZWN embedded reporters own account of being lost and having to survive the undead hordes and roaming bandits in Haiti.

Part one
Part two
Part three

"I felt something, a pain both sharp and dull at the same time. I looked down at my thigh and saw my pants leg welling up with blood."
Part Two:
Will to Survive

Port-Au-Prince, Haiti
A ZWN exclusive interview with Zandra Corbes by Kim Harwell
Posted: December, 2006 Bookmark and Share

Part two:
This interview was conducted at the bedside of Zandra Corbes, at the converted military hospital aboard the QE2 docked in Port-Au-Prince today.

ZC: We waited till the bandits passed the alley we were hiding in. Then we peered around the corner to see where they were headed. Fortunately they stopped just across the street. I guess they were not looking for us anymore. They parked and went into a store, looting. Only one bandit was left outside on guard.

We maneuvered into a position about ten yards from him. He was facing the other direction. Lighting a cigarette. We hid round a corner and watched. It was clear that our only means of escape would be through the bandits demise. We needed the truck. It was as black and white as that. They, of course, would be reluctant to part with it. Our pilot was nursing a broken wrist. Our co pilot was limping on a broken ankle. Guess who that left to take out this guard?

ZWN: You are kidding. Please tell me this isn't going where I think it is?
ZC: Oh yes. I'm afraid it is indeed. Who else was there? We would give our position away within seconds if either Lt. Mavern or Pt. Goodson had tried to sneak up.

So I slowly walked up behind the guard. He was sitting half in the drivers seat of an old Toyota pick-up truck. Rifle resting on his knees. Cigarette freshly lit. I would have to say, that for a guard, he was pretty lax. Which no doubt made it easier for me. I got within four feet of him. I was on the passenger side. I pointed the gun through the window.

ZWN: But what about Lt. Mavern (Pilot)? Couldn't he have used the gun with his other arm?
ZC: He's right handed. And he broke his right hand. He could have used his other. But don't forget, he was supporting a large shrapnel wound to his left shoulder. He had been without medical attention for two days. He was weak and almost delirious.

ZWN: So what was going through your mind at this point?
ZC: I had never done anything remotely like this before. Not even close. Who has? You never know how you will react until you are there in the moment. My survival instinct kicked in. You know? The reptile brain. But I did keep thinking "Is this right? We don't know for sure that he shot us down. Is he really the enemy? We are not at war with him. Will I get charged with murder if we ever escape, and all this gets reported?"

Well, I needn't have worried. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. And missed. I mean missed by miles. But it was enough to shake him up. He leapt off the car seat and dropped his gun on the ground.

ZWN: Did the gun fire arouse the other bandits?
ZC: No. Oddly enough. There were guns going off all the time inside the store. I think they had come across some other necros.

Anyway, the guard and I just stood there frozen for what seemed like hours. It was probably only a couple of seconds though. Then the standoff was broken by Pt. Goodson pressing a gun in the guards face. He told him to leave the keys in the truck and climb in the back along with Lt. Mavern.

I had a huge sense of relief. I had come up to the edge of killing someone. But in the end, didn't have to. It's a hard feeling to describe.

Pt. Goodson leapt from the truck and almost as an afterthought, took out his survival knife and began slashing the tires of the other vehicles. That done, we peeled in reverse, with Lt. Mavern holding his gun to the guards head. Despite whatever was going on inside the store, the sound of our truck screeching in reverse got the attention of the bandits. They came running out and when they saw us, all hell broke loose. We took a lot of fire. The drivers side door was peppered. I should mention at this point that I was driving. I felt something, a pain both sharp and dull at the same time. I looked down at my thigh and saw my pants leg welling up with blood. I had to put it out of my mind. We just gunned it away from them.

There wasn't a whole lot of undead presence on the street. Necros tend to well up in large numbers. They will find something that holds their attention for a while, and just gather around it. So we would see pockets of zombies. Then nothing. Then another pocket of zombies. This is how it was driving through the town.

We were able to evade the undead and also put a large distance between us and the bandits. We drove for about 30 miles. Then our luck ran out. Or rather our gas did. We occasionally saw vehicles parked by the side of the road. I got very good at siphoning gas. Tastes disgusting. Most had already been emptied though. Nevertheless, this got us a few miles further. Our luck had been waxing and waning all day. But there is nothing more deflating (no pun intended) than the knowledge that you have just gotten a flat tire, in a vehicle where the only guy not wounded, is your bandit prisoner. And you are lost on a remote road, teaming with the undead.


Part one of this exclusive interview with ZWN embedded reporter Zandra Corbes

Part three
of this exclusive interview with ZWN embedded reporter Zandra Corbes

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