by Samie Sands
I make the decision to post what I’ve seen online, to try and encourage people to get themselves indoors. If what Jamie said is true, and people really are ignoring the Lockdown, then they’re putting themselves in terrible danger. If people haven’t seen it yet, they might be struggling to believe—just as I was.
Michelle wanders over to my desk to sit down next to me. She stays there in silence, while I type manically, trying to get my message across in the most firm and sane-sounding manner possible. It’s not until I turn around to get a good look at her that I see the red blotchy face and puffy eyes—she’s been crying. I clearly see nothing I say or do will make her feel better, so I just pull her in for a hug.
After about five minutes, she finally speaks. “That was—” She chokes a little on her words. “That was insane. I just…I don’t understand…” She rubs her eyes furiously. “I mean, I knew this virus was bad, but that. I can’t even find words to verbalise it. We heard about it, we spoke about it, but actually seeing it…”
“Yeah…” I mumble, wishing I could articulate any of my emotions.
“We’re never going to be locked up here for only two weeks, you know.” Her voice starts to gain more strength, more determination. “They will never get rid of this virus in that time. I tried to tell that to…well, just about everyone. They were too concerned with budgets to listen.” She looks up at me, desperation evident in her eyes. “We’re going to die here. Do you realise that? There’s no other possible outcome. How are they going to get all the infected people cured in time? I don’t think they even have a cure. In fact, I don’t think they even know what’s caused this, never mind how to solve it. If you think about it, nothing has been confirmed. I just—I don’t want to die here, not at work, for Christ’s sake! Surrounded by people I don’t really even care for.”
The more she speaks, the more my veins ice over with fear. Could she really be right?
***
As I lie in bed that night, sleep totally evades me yet again. Even though I know these sleepless nights are going to catch up with me soon, I can’t switch off. I can’t stop thinking about Michelle. I’ve never, ever seen her like that. She’s the most positive, upbeat person I know. She’s practically famous for surviving off the happy and bubbly mode—no matter what’s going on around her. The fact that she was so distraught has really struck a chord with me.
After her rant, she started to talk about people from her past—a subject we never really discuss. She talked about her stilted relationship with her mum, and an old boyfriend, ‘the one that got away,’ her ex-best friend from college that she misses dreadfully. I went along with the conversation, not once mentioning the undertone of her words. The way she talks, it was as if she truly believes she’ll never see them again.
The worst part about all of this is the fact that she voiced everything I’ve been too scared to really think about. This worry about not seeing my parents stems from the fear that I’ll never get to see my family again.
I just…don’t know what to do about that.
I mean, I can’t exactly leave, can I? I’d be stupid to try and brave the world outside of this office to get back home. I’d get caught out, I’d die just like Tim did. I’m protected here, I’m registered for food supplies here, there’s just no way I’d be able to survive out there, with those horrible flesh-munching creatures.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Again I rise a long time before everyone else. I just can’t continue to lie there, knowing that sleep is far out of my grasp. This morning, however, I spend my time a little differently. I flick my computer on, allowing the glow of the screen to fill me with a sense of calm. I can finally use the Internet for something other than procrastinating. I can use it to clue myself up about everything to do with the AM13 virus.
I’ve already been through all of the online forums, the blog posts, the social media mentions—but now I can look at them through a fresh set of eyes. One that knows for certain that this is all real.
As I read, I make notes. I don’t know what I’m making them for exactly—or maybe I do, but I’m just not ready to admit it yet—just that I want to know absolutely everything. The survival tips that are presented on one of the blogs are fantastic. It really covers all sorts of things you wouldn’t normally think about—including exactly what you need to take if the situation surrounding you turns dire, and you need to escape. This is more of the sort of thing we should have been talking about on the news. I know they were desperate for people to understand that the Lockdown was important and that anyone infected needed to go to a specialist medical facility—but this feels like an important lesson that we’ve missed.
As I write the words ‘Bug Out Bag,’ a feeling stirs inside of me. A decision I’ve made, but am not fully ready to come to terms with. I will be though, I’m sure of it.
I actually start to feel a little more positive about my ability to survive—if it comes down to it—until I come across a detailed article about how to prevent yourself from getting bitten, and what to do if it happens. These are things I’ve scrolled through before, but paid no attention to. Now that I’m seeing it with new knowledge, the morbidity of it makes me feel sick.
It states that if you get bitten, it’s too late for you. By the time you’re showing the early signs of the AM13 virus, you’re ‘already dead.’ The flu-like symptoms will be followed by your organs shutting down. This will cause searing agony and horrendous hallucinations, eventually leading to the comatose, ‘zombie’ state. The writer of this post suggests that at this stage, you’re classified as dead, and that there’s no cure or comeback from this.
From what I’ve seen, I think I actually agree with this! Even if someone had brought that woman from outside back, how much brain function would she be able to maintain? The damage to her body was horrendous, plus the killings…how much of that would she remember? Maybe the AM13 virus really is fatal. If so, how long would you remain in that in-between state before you actually die?
According to this, the infected have to be killed—but that doesn’t seem right, does it? Surely the virus will eventually kill them completely, especially if their insides are failing. If I were to take this article at its word, then I’d be forced to believe that not only do you have to murder the infected, but you also have to completely destroy the brain. Shooting them in the head seems like the only way to do that, and that’s where I would fail. If I did make the completely irrational choice to go out there, I’d never be able to kill. Not even if I had a gun at my disposal.
It’s not that I don’t have faith in the armed forces to wipe out the infected for me—which is clearly what they are really doing out there. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if there is no ‘specialised medical facility’ either. That’s probably just a ploy to get you somewhere safe to be murdered—it’s just that we did see three infected, right outside our office building. I couldn’t be one hundred percent certain I wouldn’t come across any. And if I did, I wouldn’t know what to do.
I can’t help but think that when this all comes to an end, won’t there be consequences for killing people—even the infected, in self-defence? If the armed forces are doing it under instructions, then I’m sure that’s okay, but for normal, everyday people, I’m certain the rules must be different.
Eventually the others wander into the office one by one, causing me to hide what I’m researching. I don’t know why I feel the need to be secretive—I’m sure that if someone saw, they wouldn’t be suspicious, but I want to keep it to myself all the same.
As soon as I see Michelle, she looks at me with a guilty, saddened expression that really tugs at my heartstrings. She actually feels bad for her rant yesterday!
As she sits down beside me, she quietly whispers, “I’m sorry; I think I was suffering from cabin fever yesterday.” She laughs weakly, but I’m nowhere near fooled.
The choice that I made somewhere along the line, but solidified in my mind last night, finally c
omes to the forefront of my thoughts. A nervous, panicky feeling rises up, but it’s mixed with something else. Something positive. Am I really, honestly considering this? I can’t explain it, not even to myself, but I am. If I don’t do this, then I’ll spend the rest of my life blaming myself and wondering ‘what if?’
I take one of the pieces of paper containing my notes, and write a simple message on it to show my best friend.
I’m getting out of here.
She looks up at me, shock in her eyes. After a few moments, a smile starts to play on her lips.
She writes back:
Me too.
I examine her expression. Is she serious, or is she just saying that because of me? No, she wants to do this. She was the first one to verbalise it. Deep down, I knew she was going to agree to it, which is probably what has given me the confidence to really think about it. At least if I had Michelle by my side out there, I wouldn’t be alone. And she’s much tougher than I am, both physically and mentally.
In the end, I nod and smile at her, trying to turn my nerves into adrenaline. I really need to be a little excited about this, rather than solely afraid, but somehow, that isn’t happening.
“Everyone.” Jamie’s commanding voice bursts into the room. “We need to have a meeting.” We all gather round, hushed by his serious expression. Clearly whatever he has to say is going to be bad; you could cut the tension in the room with a knife! When he speaks, though, the words he has to say are worse than I could have imagined. “Today we are to make a very important announcement on our national news segment. Because of all the people endangering themselves but not following the rules of the quarantine, there is going to be a nationwide crackdown. Anyone found on the streets after six p.m. tonight will be considered infected, and treated as such. They’ll be taken to the hospitals, or arrested if the situation requires it. Guns are going to be in action, so any real trouble causers will run the risk of being killed. Of course, this is necessary to prevent the virus from spreading further than it needs to.”
I feel hot and panicky as I consider the implications of this. Escape is definitely not an option now. What the hell are we going to do? I glance at Michelle and her face looks just as frightened and pissed off as I feel. While everyone else shoots off questions, my mind is working overtime, thinking about what Jamie has said and any possible solutions for us.
I glance around the room, seeing the reactions of others to this news. Their facial expressions vary massively. Eventually my eyes settle on Jake. It’s like looking at a stranger now. Everything that’s happened has pushed us so far apart; I don’t know if we’d ever be able to get it back. He must sense me looking at him, because after a couple of seconds, his head snaps up and our eyes connect. I can see him mouthing something to me, but I don’t pay any attention. Instead, I’m noticing his greying skin, the bags under his eyes, his sweaty forehead, and red, bloodshot eyes.
My previous suspicions were right, he’s ill. But he’s definitely not normal ill. He’s infected. He’s actually sat here in front of me, showing signs of the AM13 virus. I can’t believe I didn’t realise it before. A cold panic trickles through me. We’re locked inside with someone who is about to become one of those beasts.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
For a whole second, I’m totally frozen. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. Do I scream and panic? Secretly phone the emergency services? Calmly call a meeting and tell everyone else that Jake is about to turn into one of those things? I think he senses the pure fright in my eyes, because I see a range of emotions cross his face: fear, denial, anger, and then a strange kind of relief. He must want someone else to know what’s going on. It must be a huge burden to tolerate on your own. Maybe he wants to be outed so that he can finally be cured. Well, that’s what he thinks will happen. I know better. When they take him away, that’s the last we’ll ever see of him. He’ll be murdered in cold blood, but probably for his own good.
I stomp across the room, not caring who sees me, and pull him out into the hallway by his sleeve. My ears are buzzing with the knowledge of what Jake could potentially unleash on us all and I need to discuss it with him. Once I’m certain were alone, I start.
“How the hell could you? Knowing you’ve got that”—I mouth ‘AM13’ to him, still careful; I really don’t want this conversation to be overheard. The panic it’s going to cause will be extreme—“and you stay here endangering us all.” I’m getting more and more worked up. My breaths are started to become a little laboured and my throat constricts with terror.
“No, no, no,” he interrupts, waving his hands in front of my face. “It’s not what you think.” I stop and look at him, perplexed. I can’t tell from his expression where he’s going with this. “I’m not sick, not really. It’s stress. And no sleep, it always has this effect on me.” I shake my head; of course he’d say that. He’s scared. That’s understandable, but he can’t lie to us all, and then kill us! “It’s hard to explain,” he continues, letting out a huge sigh before carrying on. I’m sure he’s just buying some time while he prepares his lie.
***
After he finishes talking, I’m positive every word that has come out of his mouth is truth. His story makes me so sad—it’s filled with a desperate situation that sees no positive outcome. He has a six-year-old son, Harry. He never told anyone here about him before because he didn’t want to be judged for his situation. Harry was conceived during a one-night stand when Jake was only seventeen. He tried to make a relationship work with Harry’s mother, Pippa, but they were both far too young for that kind of commitment. Harry now lives with Pippa in the next town, and because of bitter rows in the past, Jake only gets to see his child one weekend every month. He told me that’s why he never really made much effort to get close to me, despite always wanting to. He thought all of this would have put me off. Much as I’m shocked by his admission of feelings, I’m more taken aback by how little I knew about his life.
It was just coming up to Jake’s weekend with Harry when the Lockdown notion started being broadcast. Pippa wouldn’t hear of Harry leaving her side, even for a day, just in case he couldn’t make it back. Jake got so angry by her reaction that the rows escalated and some awful things were said on both sides. This soon turned to heartbreak when Jake learned just how real the virus is—it put everything else in perspective. The only problem is ever since the incident with Tim, Jake has been desperately trying to contact Pippa through the phone, emails, Facebook, but no success. He has no idea where they are, or even if his son is still alive.
It’s now obvious why he looks the way he does. It doesn’t even bear thinking about.
I know he could be trying to fool me with this story about a child that no one has heard of before, but he says it with such a conviction that not a shadow of a doubt crosses my mind. Plus, his tears seem extremely genuine. My heart is racing with the injustice of his situation, and the fear he must be feeling. And I thought I had reason to worry. At least I know my family is safe!
“I’m a genius!” I suddenly cry out, completely changing the atmosphere between us. I can see Jake looking at me strangely, so I begin to explain my escape plan with Michelle. I invite him to come with us on our breakout mission; that way he can get to Pippa’s house and find out for certain about his son. All thoughts about the crackdown escape my mind; with Jake alongside myself and Michelle, we will definitely make it.
He smiles at me sadly. “Don’t you think I’ve already thought about that? Jamie has a tight regime around here, there’s no way of escape. In his mind, he’s doing it for our own good. Even if we did get out, how would we evade the infected and the armed forces?”
I have no answer to that, so I fall into silence.
***
I’m downhearted for the rest of the day. Of course Jake is right, but without the plan to escape, I’m stuck with the reality of remaining here—waiting to die. I try to convince myself that it won’t matter anyway, because the Lockdown is g
oing to be effective, but I can’t make myself certain.
My instincts are screaming at me that if I don’t at least try, then I’ll never see my family again. Just the thought of that brings tears to my eyes. I may have never done anything rebellious before, and I may sacrifice my job over this, but if what I witnessed with Tim doesn’t teach me to live in the moment and to do what I think is right, then nothing will.
I want to go. I really, really want to go.
I try to sleep on the problem, knowing that a clearer mind will be able to make a more rational decision, but by the time the sun streams through the window, I’m still set on this desire. This time I make the choice, fully knowing that I might be going it alone. If the others decide to come, fully understanding the risks they may have to cross, then fine. If they feel the reason they want to leave is worth the possibility of death, then they’ll know they’re doing the right thing.
But if not, I still don’t think I can stay. I may not have always been as close to my family as I would have liked, but I think that seeing them again is worth the possibility of dying. I love them, and being with them again will give me a second chance. I’ll be given a new lease on life, and this time I intend to do things better—no matter what happens with this virus.
As soon as I get the opportunity, I explain what I’m doing to Michelle and Jake separately. I state that I fully understand the risks, but that it hasn’t changed my mind. It takes a while, but eventually they both come back to me saying they want to come. Obviously Jake’s love for his child overshadows his fear of death, but I’m still not sure what Michelle’s true purpose for leaving is. I can sense there’s someone she wants to see, but I don’t know who. I’m sure she’ll tell me as soon as she’s ready.
