Molotov Cocktails aren’t actually full of alcohol.
Most people might not realise that.
Surprisingly, movies and video games sometimes turn the dials down on ‘realism’.
It’s just a ‘fun name’. Because War is fun.
Alcohol doesn’t burn that well; anything less than 50% is just a waste of Liquor.
The best substances would be turpentine, diesel, or jet fuel.
Unfortunately I’ve not been stranded next to an Airport fueling station for the past fortnight.
Fortunately, I’ve been stranded on top of an outdoor strip mall for the past fortnight.
Unfortunately, the dead rose a fortnight ago.
Fortunately, they’ve not been able to get up to my roof fortress, booby trapped in pigeon shit and cigarette ends.
So, swings and roundabouts really.
There’s an access hatch on the roof that leads to all the stores. At night I grab food and supplies from the 7/11 and the kitchen of the Chinese and Mexican restaurants.
But mostly I go down to get booze from the liquor store. It’s got a steel gate and no windows. I’d sleep in there if it wasn’t for the moans and thumps against the gate.
Oh, funny thing. I sleep in a pillow fort on the roof. It’s mostly cushions I grabbed from the furniture store and anything else that would fit, braced and taped together. But yeah, it’s a pillow fort.
There’s nearly 400 of them out there.
I’ve counted. About five times.
Some are unique and stand out, ‘main characters’ if you would. Beard guy with rebar in his chest. Old man in a windbreaker missing an arm. Poor man’s Amy Adams, with bullet holes in her chest. Zombie 18th century Professor.
I’ve not burned them yet. A couple are too far, and some I’ve just grown accustomed to. Like fish.
I’ve burned a lot though. Makeshift molotovs have become my post apocalyptic hobby. I went through about six bottles before I realised high grain content works best.
Whiskey and Vodka primarily.
I drank a few bottles at first, just to try and get to sleep and wait for help.
I gave up that idea and, on a desperate whim, tried something more practical with all that booze.
At first it sickened me, the fact I was burning something ‘human’.
It was just a panicked survival instinct, bought about by wild necessity. I thought maybe I could burn them all away and escape. But there’s too many, and it seem like more join the audience every day.
But then what unsettled me was the harrowing nonchalance of it all.
How the glass would smash and whip tongues of fire over them How the couple who caught aflame would march as usual. Uncaring. No screams or pain, just emotionless, purgatorial indifference as their flesh bubbled and skin peeled. Like a building slowly collapsing in on itself, or a drunk stumbling home.
It’s enthralling now. Honestly, I enjoy it. A lot.
I never imagined I would.
But it’s mesmerising in it’s simplicity and erosion.
Like watching a candle melt, or time lapse footage of ants on a carcass.
I time it.
I try and alternate between hitting feet, then torsos, then heads. Multiple undead burning in various areas, creating Zombie screensavers of flame and rot.
I see if I can create chain reactions, dousing a ‘patient zero’ in flame and see how many others they spread it to.
I’m honestly addicted to it.
I’m an alcoholic you could say.
Just of a different kind.
Part of me hopes this never ends.
There’s liquor in there for months. I haven’t touched a drop in weeks. I sleep just fine now.
I ran out of rags so had to use fabric from the furniture store. I threw everything wooden I could carry over the edge and made a disassembled wicker man.
That burned for a while. It was fun.
I’m going to have to start using pieces of my pillow fort soon, but fair enough, I need all the fun I can get.
I burn dozens a day, but the herd never thins.
The first step is admitting you have a problem right?
Pete Smith graduated Lancaster university with a degree in English, creative writing and practise, and immediately put it to zero use.
He writes short horror stories, and has worked freelance for sites such as cracked.com and https://thenewsdump.co.uk/. He once got paid by the BBC for a joke about putting your finger up your bum.