I don’t see a single soul as I wander Docklands on a Thursday evening.
The only sounds I hear are my own footsteps as I trudge past dark, empty stores. I clamber around garbage bags, upturned shopping trolleys, wooden pallets strewn across the ground. In the distance a dodgy fluorescent light flickers on and off. Then a horde of the undead break through a window and try to eat my brains.
