Lockdown (AM13 Outbreak Series)

by Samie Sands

  Oh God.

  On the brink of panic, I push my chair back, ready to rush to the toilets to have my meltdown in peace, but I’m distracted by the fact that every other person is crowded around one computer. None of them look like their lives are bursting at the seams, which baffles me. The negativity that’ll come from these news reports affects them too.

  Curiosity gets the better of me, and I abandon my initial plan and be nosy instead. As I near the crowd, I start to hear snippets of conversation. It seems that Aaron—one of the tech guys—has found a video of a virus victim that was filmed in the early hours of yesterday morning in England—at Heathrow airport in London, to be precise.

  They have it playing over and over again on a loop, so I get to watch it a couple of times. Admittedly, it’s the most realistic one I’ve seen. The ‘infected’ guy looks more human than the rest of the clips I’ve trawled through. Whoever created this strain of the hoax has actually put some effort in to make the actors look realistic. The background screaming is good too—people genuinely sound terrified. Of course, this one is also shot on a shaky handheld camera or mobile phone, but somehow it manages to make that work to its advantage. Somehow it makes it more believable.

  “Settle down, everyone.” Jamie’s voice instantly silences everyone. We all turn to face him. His expression is stern and grave. “This UK video follows the daily report I was sent this morning. The airport was in the process of closing when this infected man started to attack. He’s been taken to the nearest specialised medical facility, along with two others who have skin abrasions. We can’t report this yet as the police don’t want to cause any unnecessary panic, but we will as soon as we’re given the go-ahead.” He sighs deeply, looking around at us all. “Some of you feared that the Lockdown might be happening too soon. This proves that to be incorrect. Unfortunately, not all lives can be saved, but at least we know now that most people will be. Of course, we can’t report about this attack, but as you’ve seen someone from the site has released the footage online. If people see this, then it’ll serve as a warning to them all. If there are still people ignoring the Lockdown rules, then hopefully this will stop them.”

  Agreeable noises surround me. Clearly people don’t want to see the negativity surrounding all of this. They’d rather focus on the positives, the factors that prove we’re doing the right thing. I wish I could see it that way too. Maybe if I wasn’t so deeply linked to the story, I’d be able to. If it had been someone else to send that initial video to Jamie, maybe my mindset would be somewhere else entirely.

  If only…

  ***

  I barely sleep again that night. This time it’s different, though. It has nothing to do with everyone else, and everything to do with me. My brain just won’t switch off, no matter what I do. As the worry consumes me, I miss the numbness. I thought that was terrible, but it’s preferable to this. Having anxiety about something you can literally do nothing about is dire.

  Before it’s even light, I step out of bed. Lying down restlessly is achieving nothing, so I’d rather chill out by myself for a while with a cup of coffee in hand. I plod across the canteen quietly, listening jealously to all of the random bursts of snoring. I’m too tired to even get annoyed.

  As the kettle boils, I idly glance out of the window. I stop in my tracks and move to get a closer look. There’s a lone, dishevelled woman walking past the wall. She’s in a seriously bad way—her clothes are all torn and bloody, her hair is matted with grime, and she has a massive gushing gash on her leg. Something dreadful has happened to her, that much is clear. The awful possibilities race through my mind, sending me into a tailspin.

  I bang on the window to let her know I’m there and cry out for someone to call an ambulance. I’m desperate to do something to help her, but she doesn’t even acknowledge me. It’s as if she’s crazy, comatose, like she’s sleepwalking or something. Maybe the loss of blood has sent her into a state of delirium.

  Not knowing what other option I have, I turn to race outside. I can’t just stand here and leave her to die of her injuries. I’d never be able to forgive myself! But just as I’m about to rush out of the room, a feeling of unease spreads over me and stops me dead on the spot. I flick my gaze back out to the road and a cold chill comes over me. Now she’s looking this way and I can see her face fully. Her jaw has disconnected and is hanging down from her face and in her hand is a severed human arm.

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  The next thing I’m aware of is ice cold water hitting my face, making me jump up with a start. When did I fall asleep? I try and tell what I saw, but my panicky garbled voice is not making any sense to anyone. I jump up onto my feet and point out the window, gesturing wildly as I can’t quite find the words to explain the horror. Not one person is showing any signs of recognition or understanding, which just causes me to freak out more. The tears are burning my skin and my throat starts to feel constricted. In the end, I’m forced to give up trying to form words, and concentrate on breathing properly again.

  When I actually calm down enough to think to look out the window, I can clearly see there’s no one there. The battered woman has gone. Did I imagine her? Have I started hallucinating? Is that what all this worry has done to me? Oh God, now I have to try and pretend to the others that I’m sane so they don’t instantly send me to some psych ward.

  I sit myself back down quietly, hoping that everyone will simply assume my ranting was due to me passing out. That’s a side effect, right? I’m starting to actually see faces in front of my eyes, rather than just the messy blur of before, and everyone looks concerned. A hot shame washes over me as someone hands me a glass of water to drink.

  “Sorry,” Michelle mutters, almost to herself. “I didn’t think the water would shock you that much, I just…didn’t know what else to do. You were yelling for an ambulance. I ran in and found you on the floor, and you were out for so long.”

  I nod, trying to act like I understand, but the words don’t quite make sense in my addled mind.

  On the outside, I now look cool and calm, but my brain is whirring round and round trying to decide if what I saw was real, and if so how to explain it. I’m aware of the troubled chatter surrounding me, about how to ‘deal’ with me, but I’m no longer affected by it. Trying to figure this out feels more important.

  Suddenly a loud shouting that seems to come from nowhere breaks through my thought barrier. Is it her? Am I about to be proven sane? Everyone follows me and dashes to the window to see what’s happening and there, lying in the road, is a man who has fallen off his motorbike. He looks pretty messed up, so on instinct we all run outside to do whatever we can to help, Lockdown completely dismissed. I can hear someone on the phone to the emergency services as we go. All thoughts about me and my little incident have been immediately forgotten in the midst of this newest drama.

  The cool, refreshing air hits my face and takes my breath away, which must be a direct result of the fainting. I pause for a second to regain myself, by which time everyone else has already reached the main entrance gate. They’re shaking it and screaming for it to be opened. No one has their work pass with them to unlock it. I guess they’re all tucked away somewhere in their bags—I know mine is. We’ve had no use for them since we’ve been here.

  Although we’ve always been told that they are the only way to get in and out of the premises, security must have another option. I turn desperately to look in the window and see one of the security guards, Lucas, looking at us all, but doing nothing. As I try and communicate with him that he needs to open the damn gate now—after all it is a matter of life and death—he turns away whilst shaking his head. What the hell? Surely he can’t put the Lockdown before this. That’s insane!

  “The medics are on their way!” I hear one voice yell above the rest, which makes me feel slightly more at ease. At least we’ve managed to do something.

  I rush forward, my body trembling with adrenaline. When I finally get a good loo
k at the injured man, I can clearly see just how afraid he is. It’s a pure unadulterated terror that isn’t really justified by his fall. Surely, as a biker, he’s had minor accidents before. Plus, the wounds he’s sustained don’t actually look that bad from down here.

  No, it has to be something more than that.

  I watch him carefully, finally noticing he’s been staring in the same direction for an extended period of time. Even as we’ve been down here, yelling, screaming, rattling the fence, he hasn’t even glanced our way once. Whatever it is he’s looking at must be more attention-grabbing than a bunch of noisy nutters.

  I need to find out what it is.

  I run further along the wall, trying desperately to find a way to get a better view. My addled mind hasn’t quite recovered from the fainting, so I’m nowhere near thinking straight. Just as the panic is about to kick in, I’m distracted by a loud crash, which causes me to spin back around to face the gate.

  Someone has managed to climb over the gate. I race back to see what idiot it was, all the while wondering how the hell they managed it, it’s huge! Oh my God, it’s Tim—one of the human resources guys. He’s now swaggering over to the injured man, acting as if he’s some sort of action hero. I roll my eyes, callously thinking that his motivation is linked to the attention he’ll get for doing this, rather than to help.

  After a few seconds of talking to the man and trying to catch his attention, Tim clicks on to what I’ve already noticed. He follows his eye line, trying to see what has him so captivated. I’ve never seen a man go from pure adrenalin rush high to pale, terrified shock so quickly.

  He staggers backwards, losing his footing more than once. When his body finally crashes against the gate, I quickly meet his eyes. In that split second, shock jolts through me and I instantly know what he’s seen.

  “Get back. Move away from the gate!” I scream at everyone. The fear in my voice must be obvious, because everyone jumps back as if they have been electrocuted. That doesn’t stop me. “Move, come on!” I’m pulling people backwards, throwing them to the ground, desperate to emphasise my point. I can’t think about anything except my goal of clearing the way and keeping everyone else away from harm. I haven’t got any time to explain, and I still haven’t figured out how to vocalise all that I’ve seen.

  Tim jumps and tries to pull himself up, as I guess he did before, but the fear must have gotten to him and the pressure has made his palms too sweaty because he keeps slipping back down. I’ve been so focused on getting everyone out of his way that there’s no one left to help him, to try and push him up and get him over the top quicker.

  My heart is in my throat, fear is pouring through my veins. I have no idea what to do, what decision to make, the best way to act. It’s all going wrong, and I’m paralysed with shock. As I scan my eyes around, it seems that everyone else is in the same position.

  Then we’re all forced to witness the horror descending on us. It happens in slow motion, and I can’t even begin to move a muscle to do anything useful. The woman I saw earlier, the monstrous, bloody, destroyed woman is back. This time, however, she isn’t alone. She’s ambling over with two men—if you can call them that—both in a similar condition as her. She heads straight for the easy target, the biker trapped by his own injuries, whereas the others drag Tim, kicking and screaming, to the ground. And there’s no other way to describe this…

  They start eating them.

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  This is all my fault. A man—well, two men—are dead because of me. I may as well have murdered them myself. If I had just said something to someone about seeing that awful woman from up in the office, or shouted sooner, or even mentioned that the biker was staring at something up the street. Something. If I hadn’t been so bloody obsessed with pulling everyone out of harm’s way, we could have pulled Tim over the gate. Every decision I made was the wrong one, and this is the consequence. Death is the result.

  If I’d done everything differently then Tim would still be alive and here now. I assume that the biker had already been attacked, and that’s what had caused him to crash. His injuries kind of suggest that much now I know more, so I feel much worse about Tim. Plus, I knew Tim. I worked alongside him on a daily basis and that makes it much harder to comprehend. We weren’t great mates or anything—he was just someone I said ‘hello’ to in passing—but still, he was one of us.

  And now, I’ve contributed towards his death. I’ll always be a part of his history…in the worst possible way. I didn’t know it was possible to hate myself this much. I feel utterly useless, hopeless, like a void of negativity.

  I could tell myself that no one would have believed me, that everyone would have dismissed my claims anyway so it doesn’t matter, but somehow that argument feels weak. This virus is real. AM13 has been here all along. It really has been the life-threatening disease that it was portrayed as. The only person who couldn’t see that was me. I was so stubborn, so convinced that it was all an overly elaborate hoax. That I’d set something in motion.

  And I was wrong.

  I knew people wouldn’t go to these extreme levels without any proof. Yet somehow, I had myself assured that it had happened anyway. I led myself to think I was instrumental in all of this. It turns out I was, but surprisingly in a good way. Maybe I should feel okay about that—after all, I had wished the virus could be real so I wouldn’t be viewed as an idiot any longer. But that suddenly feels like the least important thing in the world. Why would I care about how people look at me now? Everyone always says be careful what you wish for. How right they are…

  I look around at everyone else’s faces. They all look as stunned and disbelieving as I feel. I’m sure my expression is mirrored in all of theirs, just tainted with the knowledge that I actually had the power to prevent all of this from happening.

  As soon as the horror plummeted into a feeding frenzy outside, before any of us even had a split second to react, the emergency services arrived. The paramedics rushed out in blood-splattered white protective boiler suits, armed with all sorts of medical equipment. It all happened so quickly that I couldn’t quite follow their actions, but before I knew what had even happened, the infected and their victims were motionless and being bundled into the back of the ambulance.

  Then they were gone.

  I don’t know where they were taken. Maybe they’ve been buried right away or maybe they’ve been taken to the specialised medical facility for testing. Every time I try to think about it, my brain hurts and I feel sick all over again.

  We all just stood there, silent and unmoving, while they drove away without even acknowledging our existence. It felt like hours before someone finally turned around and went back inside. We all followed slowly, like sheep, and no one has uttered a word since.

  Jamie stands up and clears his throat as if he’s preparing to say something, but falls into silence. Finally he opens his mouth again, and this time he manages to speak. “I’m sorry, everyone, I don’t know what to say.” His voice catches. “This comes as a massive shock. For an attack to happen to one of us, on our doorstep, is unthinkable.” I wonder if he wants to tell us ‘I told you so.’ After all, Tim did defy his rules by breaking out. Thankfully, if he feels that opinion, he respectfully keeps it to himself. “Tim was our colleague and our friend. The only thing we can do is to make sure his death wasn’t in vain. We’ve just witnessed an attack that’s derived from this virus. Now we need to work even harder to make sure everyone follows this quarantine—there are people out there still ignoring what they have to do. We have a responsibility to ensure this doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

  One person bursts into sobs, but everyone else makes agreeable noises. I feel a fire rise up in my belly. Jamie’s right! Okay, we might not be able to change what has just happened, but we can help other people. If I made mistakes back then, I can rectify them a little by making the right choices now. We may not have any footage of what just happened—how the hell anyone gets
it together enough to pull out a camera in that situation is beyond me—but we are in the unique position of having an outlet to get our message across.

  As soon as we all separate, I ring my mother. I’m not entirely sure how much she really knows about this virus, and I want her to know for certain that it’s true. I want her to understand just how dangerous it is. I try and explain it to her, but I must sound a little like I’m cracking up. My voice is coming out all hysterical and stressed, and I can tell her concern for me overshadows any chance of her actually paying attention to what I’m saying.

  “Can I speak to Felix?” I finally ask. My brother might be a typical stubborn seventeen-year-old, but he’s also the only person who might take me seriously. He’ll know I wouldn’t be saying these things if I didn’t mean them.

  I stumble through all the events of the day, trying to skate over the blame that lies on me. It’s not that I don’t want to tell him the truth, it’s just not the time or place right now—anyone in the office could overhear me if they really wanted to. Eventually he shuts me down, clearly trying to prevent me from getting too emotional. He promises to keep Mum and Dad indoors; he says that he will explain it all to them very carefully, ensuring that they’re completely clued up. His words don’t totally fill me with confidence—after all, he’s so laid back he’s practically horizontal—but it isn’t as if I’m left with any other choice.

  “Keep in touch, sis,” he says firmly at the end of the phone call, and I eagerly agree. At least if we text regularly, I’ll know more about their fate for certain.

  I remain seated for a while after we’ve hung up the phone, unable to shake the uncomfortable worry that’s firmly consuming the pit of my stomach. This is all just…unbelievable. I can’t even begin to get my head around it. This really isn’t a time that I should be away from my family. Now I can see just what danger we’re in, it’s more upsetting to me that I haven’t been allowed home.