The night fills with the familiar chirp of crickets and the irritating hum of mozzies. I swat at one. My chest tightens as I lick my lips, trying to will away the intrusive thought, and now guilty pleasure, of wondering if mozzies have edible brains. So, it is happening, and relatively fast.

After the zombie apocalypse, the government found a temporary solution and encouraged us to continue living our lives. Let me introduce myself. My name is Gavin, a 43-year-old cattle farmer from South Australia, with a love of cricket. As the one—year anniversary—now aptly named Use Your Noggin Day—and my gal's birthday, approaches, there has been an increase in zombie attacks.

Will I be able to protect Alara, keep my humanity and still play the match next weekend?

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