by Samie Sands
Everything in the world is absolutely perfect, nothing can shake this feeling.
CHAPTER THREE
Predictably, that’s when the world crashes around me and everything goes to hell.
It starts with me being woken up by a shrill ringing, which is totally annoying because my head is banging. I try and ignore it, but it just won’t stop. My body feels heavy, but I know the only way to get a bit more shuteye is to move and locate the source of that hideous sound.
I agonisingly force myself into a semi-standing position and shuffle across the room, stepping over my haphazardly discarded clothes that are strewn across the floor. How do I always manage to completely trash my bedroom when I arrive home drunk? I’m woozy and nauseated and if I don’t find a way to stop this noise soon, I’m going to pass out or throw up. I need to lie down!
I finally find my phone tucked under my handbag in the middle of my bedroom floor, by which point I’m in no mood to talk to anyone. To make it more insulting, it’s a withheld number.
“Yes?” I question rudely.
“Are you her?” comes the reply from an unknown voice.
“Erm.” I have no idea what’s going on and now my head is really starting to spin and my stomach’s churning like crazy. I really cannot handle my drink; I should know this by now. What the hell was I thinking drinking shots?
“You know, the, er, ‘zombie’ girl?” the deep voice interrupts my train of thought; the sarcastic tone is not missed.
“Um.” Still none the wiser and definitely in no state to come up with a witty reply, I just fall into an awkward silence.
“Are you the one who found the story?” he asks again. He’s not only treating me like a joke, but also as if I’m totally thick.
I’m about to rant and rave at him for calling me at some stupid hour, talking to me so disrespectfully, when my whole body freezes. I start to have the awful creeping feeling that I know exactly what this guy is talking about. My heart races as I wonder who this person is and how he could possibly know anything about me and my mistake.
In a state of panic, I quickly hang up the phone and throw it across the room, watching as it hits the wall and slides to the ground. Instead of caring whether or not I’ve cracked the screen, I race to the bathroom to finally be sick.
With tears sliding down my face and my throat burning, I run myself a hot shower. There’s no way I can go back to sleep after all of that—my mind is all over the place. But as the steaming water pours over me, I can feel my head starting to clear and my muscles relaxing. I can hear my mobile still ringing in the other room, but suddenly it seems a lot less important. Who knows, it could have been someone from work playing a practical joke—that would be just like Michelle—or even a wrong number. It could have been anything really, it’s just the hangover making me panic. In fact, it was probably a dream—just my worst nightmare coming true. I have been on edge all week, after all.
As I’m randomly pulling my comfiest clothes on, I can’t help but notice that I feel a lot better. I can now clearly see that I was being completely ridiculous. There’s no way that phone call was linked to anything that’s happened recently. It’s just an odd coincidence. This week has driven me crazy! At least it ended well with Jake…
The thought of Jake makes me smile widely as I relive how well last night went. It’s what I’ve wanted for…well, it feels like forever, and it didn’t take any fake fashion statements or stupid pranks to make it happen. He just likes me for me. It just took that tiny bit of alcohol for him to realise it.
***
It’s my weekend to work, and Jake’s too, so I have butterflies as I make my way there, excited at the prospect of seeing him again. I can’t help but wonder how we’ll act around each other. God, I so hope it wasn’t just a drunken kiss last night. He did insist it wasn’t when I questioned him at the time, and I definitely didn’t want to push it and come across as desperate. I guess I won’t know for certain until our paths cross in the sober light of day.
As I grab the handle of the office door, ready to open it, I realise my hand is shaking and I let out a nervous giggle. I take a deep breath and push whilst holding my head high and trying to appear confident and cool. I glance down at my outfit quickly, and instantly regret not taking more time over my appearance. Damn that phone call—it threw me completely off track this morning. That guy has a lot to answer for! Surely, one bad outfit choice won’t totally ruin things with Jake, will it? Well, if it does, I’ll just have to remember that I don’t want to be with someone so shallow anyway.
As the door creaks, everyone instantaneously spins around to look at me, completely wrecking the false confidence that I was trying to portray. I feel my face getting warm as I lurch over to my desk. Jake must have told everyone what happened last night, which means we’ll be the office gossip. Damn, I should have mentioned that we should at least attempt to keep it private. In fact, the constant scrutiny will probably stop anything from really happening—a thought that actually shatters a piece of my heart. I don’t want to have to give up Jake because of everyone else. That doesn’t seem fair!
Frustration starts to become anger when Michelle interrupts my emotional rollercoaster by whispering, “Toilets, now!” I follow behind her, eager to hear what she has to say. At least I know for a fact that she’ll tell me straight, even if it’s really bad.
Oh God, please don’t be really awful news.
As the door slams behind me, I realise in the harsh lighting that Michelle looks a little wild, as if she’s bursting with some news. This causes my heart to leap into my throat and my tremors to increase. Nervous is an understatement for how I’m feeling right now. I gulp down these emotions before speaking.
“Okay, what has everyone been saying? Is it that bad? I have to quit my job, don’t I? Damn it, Jake.” I tug on the ends of my hair, shuffling from foot to foot.
Michelle’s smile falters. “Oh God, you don’t know, do you?” My blank stare must have answered her question because she carries on. “The story, you know, the one you sent Jamie by mistake…he ran it on the news last night. The news anchor kind of read it as a joke and then Jamie got really mad and starting shouting at him in his ear piece and he got all flustered and said your name, live on the news!” She looks at me as if I don’t understand the enormity of being named on the ten o’clock news. I don’t. I mean, it’s the local news that no one ever watches anyway. I just feel stunned and more than a little confused.
“But why?”
“Well, I think he just panicked…”
“No, no, no.” How can she misunderstand so badly? “No, why did he put that story on the news? I mean it was a hoax. What the hell was he thinking?” I start pacing up and down, freaking out. “That is what the phone call this morning was about.”
“Phone call?” Michelle asks, but before I can reply another one of the girls wanders in, forcing us to return to our desks to continue the conversation.
***
If I was expecting all of this to die down quickly, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Michelle might think all the attention I’m getting is great, but I strongly disagree. The more the day drags on, the worse it becomes and the more terrified I feel.
The local papers keep on ringing, asking all sorts of peculiar questions, and we’ve actually had a call from a national. As it turns out, more people watch our news show than I’d originally thought. Unless some idiot has put the clip all over YouTube, which would just be typical of my life. Fame where I least want it! Everyone keeps crowding around my desk, making me coffees and asking me questions about it all. It’s driving me insane. I’m just speaking in monosyllables, wondering how I’m only finding out about this ‘news story’ now, when everyone else seems to know so much about it.
Actually, thinking about it, we were out. Of course. I haven’t watched any TV or read any newspapers since last night. Damn hangover. I mean, I don’t normally watch the news or read papers until I’m forced to at work, but still
.
I start feeling really claustrophobic, like I need air. A lot of it. I glance around, trying to spot an escape, but I’m completely blocked in. Just as I’m about to succumb to panic, the atmosphere of the room abruptly shifts.
“Everyone get back to work!” Jamie’s voice booms through the room, shocking me out of my comatose state, and I stand up, almost as a reflex action. Everyone shuffles back to their respective desks, mumbling and talking under their breaths. I watch in disbelief as he stomps over to my desk. I’m undoubtedly afraid, but to my surprise he almost looks as if he’s smiling at me. This is definitely a first. “Please follow me into my office,” he says very quietly.
I’m acutely aware of everyone’s eyes boring into my back. The air is rife with tension as I tentatively shut his office door behind me.
“Now,” Jamie starts as I sit down, still feeling like I’m having an out-of-body experience. “I’m very sorry your name was mentioned on the news last night. That was a very unfortunate mistake.” I can’t help feeling everyone is focusing on the wrong thing. “Of course we’ll help you in any way possible—” I can hear him speaking, but I can’t really focus on the words he’s saying.
“But why?” I interrupt sharply, and then immediately freak out. I have never spoken over someone like that, especially not a boss. I’m practically known for being a bit of a goody-two-shoes towards authority.
“What do you mean, Leah? Why did I run the story? Have you actually investigated the link you sent me?” He laughs. “It’s brilliant.”
“It was supposed to be a joke,” I trail off feebly. He stares at me and I feel like I have to continue. “To, you know, impress a guy.” My cheeks heat up. This has to be the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.
“Well, maybe you should look a bit further into it. It may look on the surface like a hoax, but it’s linked to some real scientific research.”
I stare at him, blindsided by his words. What the hell does he mean, ‘scientific research’? Does he hear how insane he sounds? I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes out. Instead, Jamie tells me more about what he’s learned—even if I don’t want to hear it.
As I try to process each word that comes out of his mouth, my brain zones in on one fact alone. Jamie really seems to believe that there’s some zombie-type virus spreading which could threaten everyone. I mean, he’s not actually used the word zombie, despite the fact that’s what my whole email centred around, but from his description that’s exactly what it sounds like he’s talking about.
I must be dreaming. That’s the only conclusion I can come to. Any minute now I’ll wake up warm and toasty, if not slightly groggy, in my bed.
CHAPTER FOUR
I plonk back down at my desk, praying I’ll wake up at home. This can’t all really be happening, can it? I sip my tepid coffee and internally try to assess the situation. I feel stunned, there’s no other way to describe it. I just can’t believe all this is happening to me. I can hear the usual office chatter going on, and I’m sure some of it is being directed at me, but it’s all just white noise blending together. It means nothing.
I have no idea how much time has passed. It could have been a few minutes or even a few hours, but I suddenly jump and realise I can’t sit here all day doing nothing. For one, I could end up losing my job. For two, I probably look like I’ve just come from the nearest insane asylum. I guess everyone has given up on me because as I glance around the room, no one is paying me any special attention, much to my relief.
I really feel like a total fool and I’m worried everyone thinks I’m an idiot. In fact, I’m sure they do. I need to do something, just to make myself feel better, to take my mind off of the humiliation. I want to feel useful, and I figure there must be some way I can redeem my reputation before it’s completely ruined. The question is what?
And then it hits me. It’s so obvious what I need to do, I can’t believe I’ve only just thought about it. Jamie is somehow convinced this crazy virus stuff is real, so maybe I just need to do what he did, and really look into it. I can use all of my journalistic and research skills that I’m supposed to have learnt over the last few months to help me. Maybe I can find the source of all this ‘scientific research’ he was going on about, and somehow prove it’s real. Or at least possible.
I don’t really know why I’m the one who has to convince people of the story’s validity; I don’t even believe in it myself. It was only supposed to be a bloody joke. It’s already gotten way out of hand. I guess it’s because my name has been intrinsically linked to the story by the news anchor’s mistake, and it’s me all the other members of the press are seemingly coming to for answers.
I feel a sense of foreboding as I start typing. I know I’ll just be forcing some kind of belief, but I have to do something…
Oh. My. God.
It takes me a while to locate the original link where the YouTube video came from, but I eventually find it on a foreign website. This links to all kinds of weird and wonderful web pages and forums. Although I can’t figure out exactly what had Jamie so convinced—all the ‘scientific’ stuff seems made up to me—it’s mesmerizing nonetheless.
All the believers of the virus are referring to it as ‘AM13’—which I imagine is an acronym for something, but I haven’t managed to find out what yet—and state it’s categorically not a typical ‘zombification’ virus. Personally, I was not aware there was a typical ‘zombification’ virus, but there you go! This is because the victims don’t appear to die before the infection takes over. Their organs, brain function, and nervous system just slowly shut down, changing them into something else entirely. Is that not pretty similar to death? Surely no one can survive their heart stopping, or their brain switching off.
The diagrams used to show how this happens look just like the ones found in school textbooks, but that doesn’t make it real. Anyone can say anything they want on the internet, everyone knows that.
There are a lot more videos and photographs, very similar to the original hoax I found, showing an ‘infected’ person either roaming around in a comatose state or attacking and biting someone else. These are all gruesome and some are even quite graphic. I’m not sure how the pranksters have achieved the special effects shown. I would have thought such convincing body parts being eaten or pulled off by someone’s teeth would cost a lot of money, but I may be wrong—film makeup isn’t something I’m particularly familiar with. Weirdly, everything is filmed on crappy handheld cameras or mobile phones, but I guess that’s the way to make them look more authentic.
The strange thing is so many people are really falling for it. I can’t quite get my head around their genuine belief. Don’t people have enough common sense to know this is impossible? I know I logged on to find some answers, but all I’m left with is more questions.
The main forum that’s been set up to discuss the AM13 virus is filled with people going totally wild over the imminent threat. They seem completely sure the end of the world is actually coming; some of them have some massively over the top, obscure plans to survive when the infection gets out of control. It’s when I get to this point in my reading that I start to manically scribble everything down—just because I’m so interested in these insane people. I want to know their motivation, why they feel so strongly about this.
I eventually stumble across an interesting thread, debating why this is happening. Is it religious retribution? Drugs? A government conspiracy to control population? I get sucked into this argument for much longer than I intend to. It’s the passion in each person’s post that has me so gripped.
My search takes a darker turn when I get to survival tips. At first it’s all about what to take with you if you’re forced out of your home during the inevitable apocalypse: medical supplies, weapons, food, that sort of thing. Then, it turns to defence. Apparently there’s no way to come back from the virus, so if you do encounter any infected, you need to kill them. I guess we do
n’t have to worry about the law then? But—according to this—if you don’t murder them, and you allow them to touch any of your skin with their teeth, you’re also done for. It won’t be long, and no one can calculate the exact amount of time, until you become the same. That’s why AM13 is spreading uncontrollably. So uncontrollably no one has even heard about it? Are these people crazy? It just sounds like the plot of a really bad horror movie.
Admittedly, despite my reservations, I get totally lost in it all. It’s the most interesting thing I’ve ever read at work. Much better than the usual local police reports or school events that take up my day. It’s not because I believe this ‘deadly virus’ is a threat, but because it has inspired so much fear. It almost seems like a very convincing cult with hundreds of thousands of followers, and my brain desperately needs an answer for why they’re all so damn caught up in it. There has to be a reason for it, I just can’t put my finger on what it is.
It isn’t until I eventually look up from my computer screen that I realise the room is completely empty and all the lights have been switched off. I do have a vague memory of Michelle saying goodbye to me, but I’m not even sure if it registered enough for a reply.
God, I’ve been so spacey. I need to get out of here!
***
As I’m walking back to my flat, I’m still deep in thought about everything I’ve read. I know it’s all fascinating and I did get drawn in, but I just can’t believe Jamie, who is a very intelligent man, full of common sense—that’s how he got the manager’s position, after all—put it on the news. The ten o’clock news at that. The one it seems everyone watches.
Well, except me. Actually, that’s a good point. I still haven’t seen the news segment. Maybe that would help me understand.
I switch the computer on as soon as I get home, even though I have a headache from staring at a screen all day, and find the news piece almost immediately on YouTube. Figures. Wow, it already has thousands of hits and hundreds of comments, which I quickly—and stupidly—scroll through.
