Sigur Thormarsson

Sigur looks like his name suggests he should: the epitome of the word 'Viking'. He is well over 6ft tall, built like a champion weightlifter, and still wears his hair long despite the fact it is now mostly white. Due to the northern latitude and his occupation as a fisherman, his experiences were different at first than many people.

He explains in his own way:

"We used to spend months out at sea drifting around the frozen seas up by the northern ice. This is where the people of the Faroe Islands belong you understand, not sitting in some office ticking off numbers or rustling papers on a desk."

Sigur pauses a few moments to fill his pipe before lighting it, thoughtfully puffing out a huge cloud of smoke.

"We had a radio of course, but we kept it playing music. We did not need to hear the trials and tribulations of the modern world, although I have to say the modern world does make life easier when you're out on the endless grey sea. Thousands of albums we take with us now on these MP3 players. Endless music. It's good.

"In hindsight, it might have been useful to know what was going on around us. We didn't know what was happening until it hit us personally, and we turned on the radio pretty quickly then I can tell you.

"We were a long way north of Iceland when our cabin boy spotted a body floating in the water. We had a radar trace on a shoal of herring and he was keeping a lookout at the prow. We drew alongside to have a look: unfortunately Icelandic law states we have to pick up any bodies. You may look shocked, but you'd be surprised how often we come across them. Besides, it might have been someone we knew. Face down it was, but it didn't look to have been there too long as the seagulls and other scavengers hadn't had a go at it.

"It was frozen stiff. We hooked it out of the water and dropped it on the deck like a giant Popsicle. I know it sounds odd, but we forgot about it for a little while. We covered it over with a blanket to be decent of course, but the massive shoal of haddock we'd spotted on the radar were moving towards us and we were in the money. All we had to do was fill the freezer hold, and we could go home and take it easy for a few weeks.

"We left the body in the wrong place. The deck above the engine was warm enough that the damn thing thawed out. As soon as it did, it reanimated. The first thing we knew about it was when Erik screamed. He'd only been on the crew for a few weeks; the younger brother of one of the other men. He was a good lad, just twenty years old.

"We had all been looking out over the side monitoring the nets, and Per the Captain had gone to make the tea. It was damn cold out there you know. Erik starting screaming so loud we heard it over the engines and the winches which were groaning under the weight of full nets. The thing wasn't moving too well, I'm not sure whether it was due to it being a Zed or being still partially frozen. It had clamped to Erik's neck and was ripping through the muscles along his shoulders. I hit it as hard as I could with the boathook we'd used to get it out of the sea. It didn't stop it. As Erik hit the deck screaming in agony, it came for me."

Sigur stops now and relights his pipe. I pretend not to notice his hands shaking as he draws the flame of the match into the bowl of the pipe. He thinks for a few seconds and then continues.

"In my younger days I liked a good fight. But I had never seen anything like that thing; though I saw too many more in the months and years that followed. It staggered backward from the force of the blow and came at me again, its teeth snapping as it made the horrible moaning noise they make, the noise that even now can make my blood turn to ice. I remember the Captain stepping up onto the deck behind it; remember the sound of the breaking china as the mugs of tea hit the deck, and I remember the dull thud as Leif hit it over the head with the oar from the lifeboat. He hit it so hard that it broke the oar.

That stopped it. But that wasn't the worst of it.

"Erik was gravely injured. We patched him up as best we could and made him comfortable. Mercifully he didn't regain consciousness, as he'd lost a lot of blood. We'd turned on the radio then of course; heard all the reports of the Zombies and we headed home as fast as we could. We all knew Erik would not remain dead and down, but Leif refused to believe it until he'd seen it. He locked himself in his cabin with his brother and a gun.

"At 2am we were woken by the single shot. At 7am we had a burial at sea.

"Unfortunately, we had no choice but to stop and refuel. Any other time this would have been a time for celebration. Normally it was a time to sell our catch; spend some money, get drunk, and try to persuade a willing Icelandic lady she didn't need to wear so many clothes. We tried Akranes, in the southwest of Iceland first. We picked up a couple of shivering survivors who were desperate enough to make a swim for it. Once we'd checked them over for bites, we let them on board. Iceland for some reason had been caught napping and the place was overrun.

"It still is.

"We were lucky. We came across an abandoned trawler just outside the harbour. We pumped out the fuel tanks and ran for home as fast as we could.

"It didn't end then of course, but the Faroe Islands were not too badly affected to begin with. We are not a popular tourist destination like Iceland, we are difficult to get to, and our people don't tend to travel, other than us fishermen of course. Once more our ancestors gave voice to a battle cry through us as we defended our Isles against a new and terrible invader. The sea provided food. We drew on the knowledge of our forefathers and started drawing up plans. We know how to survive the climate but due to our generally peaceful nature we ran out of bullets for guns quite quickly. So we had to resort to more traditional methods."

Sigur stands and moves to the fireplace, lifting a giant two-handed sword from the wall, pride shining in his eyes.

"This sword has been handed down through my family for hundreds of years. This is the sword that among others on these Isles provided a ring of steel no Zombie breached during the dark years of the War. It is still used in anger and will be until we, the People of the Isles, have reclaimed the seas from the Infected."

He hangs the sword back over the fire and turns to me, his arms open in welcome.

"Now, you will stay for dinner eh? We are having fish!"

- Iceland is still categorised as a White Zone, forbidden to all but UN forces to enter. As far as the authorities can ascertain, there are no survivors there and intermittent freezing does not seem to reduce the lethality of the Zombie horde. Do not be tempted to investigate.