28 DAYS LATER: THE AFTERMATH - A writer's survival journal. Day 1 - steveniles

Friday 13th 2007

It’s just short of midnight, only minutes before Friday the 13th 2007 as I sit and write this. Up until now I have kept the shocking events leading up to the creation of AFTERMATH a secret.

But now that I fear for my life, I feel the tale must be told. If anybody out there reads this, spread the word. Tell the world. Tell them I didn’t miss my deadline and I’m not dead.

It all began with Lieb. Fucking Lieb. Evil, evil Lieb.

Don’t let his boyish looks fool you. He is a soul-sucking creature of the night and will stop at nothing to create terrifying and entertaining comics.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. I can’t seem to think straight. I’m locked away in a room waiting for some word from the outside world it’s safe to come out.

When Lieb approached me about creating a comic that would bridge Danny Boyle’s classic horror film 28 Days Later with the new film 28 Weeks Later, I had no idea what I would be exposing myself to; chaos, infection, madness and really, really tight deadlines.

But I was hungry and Lieb dangled the bait; working with Jimmy P and some of the best artists working in the industry. How could I refuse? I couldn’t. I signed on the dotted line with my blood and prayed I wasn’t infected.

I spent the first few days in total darkness watching 28 Days Later over and over until my eyes bled like one of the infected in the film. Then while I waited in the darkness for morsels of information, Lieb slipped me the script for the sequel into my cell.

I read it by candle light. My last candle.

It was good. Damn good.

Now I had to figure out how to bridge the first flick with the second. I wrote outline after outline sitting in that dark cell on the Fox lot. Have you ever tried to write in the dark? It’s hard. Trust me.

In the beginning I thought one Eighty-eight page story would do the trick, but then, as I unraveled more and more of the ugly truth behind the virus and the infected I realized no ONE story could be told.

I decided to take a chance. I was already trapped. What did I have to lose?

I pitched four separate stories through the peephole in my cell to a group of movie executives, producers, and of course, the mastermind Herr Lieb.

I told them we needed to understand certain aspects of the first movie to bridge fans into the second. The idea was to create a comic book (or graphic novel as they say at the studios) that not only filled in some of the blanks but to also deliver the fans right to the doorstep of 28 Weeks Later.

It had been days since I’d had anything to eat or drink. My mouth was dry and delivering a dramatic, convincing comic book script wasn’t easy.

After the pitch, there was a long silence and then I heard the sound of keys unlocking my cell.

“Okay,” the executives said, “Go home and write those stories, but remember, there’s a quarantine so you’d better watch your step heading back home.”

I had to get home to my boarded up house, to my trusty keyboard, but it wouldn’t be easy, and once I got there I had a mission of utmost importance.

I had four 28 Days stories to write.

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