by Samie Sands
My hint works and he does exactly what I want him to. He takes over the conversation, telling me about his own travels. “Yes. The three people I was with—the ones I mentioned before—well, they were my girlfriend, Maya, and her younger sisters. We were actually on the way to their parents’ house when we were caught.” He stops for a moment, taking in a deep breath, as if this is difficult for him to say. “We all lived together in university housing. Her sisters were a year younger than her, twins.” He says this quickly, as if I’m going to doubt his story by picking holes. “Obviously we’d heard about the AM13 virus, but didn’t take too much notice. I don’t think anybody did at first.” I don’t tell him anything about my original discovery of the video, even though this is the perfect time. Something is telling me to keep that information inside. “Then, two days after the Lockdown was supposed to have started, one of the other guys we lived with came home looking as if he’d been beaten to a pulp, and acting all crazy. Maya phoned the police immediately, while he trashed up the house in a rage. It was totally out of character for him—he was one of those really quiet, studious people. The operator on the phone got all panicky and ended up telling us to leave immediately, to try and find somewhere else to stay for the time being, while they got someone to the scene to sort it all out. As we were rushing out, one of the twins got the message that their mother was in labour, so we decided that it was the best choice for us all to head there.”
“Wow.” I don’t know what to say. I already know this story has a tragic ending, so there aren’t any questions I can ask.
“Yeah, so we quickly came across a police riot van and waved it down. We were actually relieved to see them—we thought they would help us. The officer just got out of his van and shot the three girls without even looking at them.” He tries to disguise the break in his voice with disgust, but the emotion is clearly just too raw. “I was screaming at them, as I’m sure you can imagine. I don’t know how they overpowered me, but before I knew it, I was in the back of the van, and it was taking me to that…place.”
I suddenly feel incredibly terrible. His story must be true—it matches up with so much of the police brutality that I’ve witnessed myself. I can’t believe how much this man has been through. He saw his girlfriend and her family members killed, he got taken away to somewhere strange and then had God knows what done to him. He’s been through a million times worse than me, and all I’ve done is judge him and assume the worst. His odd behaviour is probably post-traumatic stress disorder, or something similar!
“I—” I start, but he surprises me by continuing with his story.
“I don’t remember too much after that.” He stares down at his feet. “I was in that cage, watching the scientists continually bringing in victims of the virus—and they were all being locked up, just like me. Some of them seemed healthy at first, but they quickly turned too. I kept thinking I was going to be next, but by some miracle, it never seemed to happen.”
“Maybe you were the one uninfected they kept—the control,” I say. Surely he would know by now if he was infected, so it must be a good sign that he’s displaying none of the symptoms.
“Possibly. I mean, they took a lot of blood samples from me, but they did from everyone. I asked. I asked the scientists all the time, but none of them even acknowledged my existence.” A shudder runs through him as he remembers the horrors. That place still gives me the creeps and I wasn’t there for very long. It must be so much worse for Mike.
I wonder what happened when the scientists returned to find the building empty—if they didn’t get attacked on the way. If they died, it’ll serve them right for treating Mike so badly, but if they’re the only hope we have for a cure, then we might find ourselves in a lot of trouble.
“I’d actually given up hope of ever surviving.” Mike grins weakly at me. “I knew I’d seen too much for them to just let me go. But then you came along to light up my life, like an angel!” As he laughs at his silly joke, I find myself warming to him, and not just because of his compliments, but because he’s just so human. I’ve been demonising him because he seems a little strange, and that’s really unfair.
“Shall we stop to eat?” I eventually ask, hunger gnawing away in my stomach. I quickly pull a can of beef curry out of my backpack, opening it and embracing the mouth-watering smell. It seems crazy to me now that I spent so much time limiting my diet to a vegetarian one. All I seem to crave is meat, so obviously my body needs it!
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
The next couple of days are just a cycle of endless walking. Everything hurts now, even my lungs. Breathing has become a phenomenal challenge. Jake’s estimations of how long this journey was going to take seem way off. I have no idea exactly how long I’ve been going, but it feels like a hell of a lot longer than five days.
During this time, we don’t come close to any infected, but we still see hundreds. I become positive that they’re multiplying rapidly as the days go on, but I’m not sure how. The only plausible explanation is that the Lockdown has failed, but that’s a possibility that I don’t want to face. I just can’t imagine where that will leave us.
The only thing that seems to be going our way is our presence doesn’t seem to be attracting the attention of the infected at all. It’s as if we’re just outside of their radar. Fortunately this means that we can just carry on as if they aren’t there. If we had to hide every two minutes, I don’t think I’d ever make it home!
Because of this, we spend all of our nights sleeping outside now. Trying to find somewhere to break into seems like an unnecessary stress if we aren’t in any danger. On top of the infected ignoring us, there have also been no sightings of the authorities. This just proves the theory that I don’t want to accept. Clearly something has gone terribly wrong, but I can’t dwell on that. Not yet. One step at a time—that’s the only way I’m going to be able to do this.
I occasionally worry that we’re getting sloppy, and I pray this won’t be our downfall. Fortunately, these worries no longer prevent me from sleeping. In fact, I’m actually managing to get a lot of rest. It’s as if I’m blacking out. There’s no thoughts, no feelings, no affect from the cold…I must finally be acclimatising to these crazy conditions. I’m finally toughening up!
Mike and I no longer have any issues—mainly because I’ve stopped caring about things that might go wrong, and I’m zoned in on the end goal. We’re stumbling along together, sometimes talking, sometimes silent, both simply moving. At one point, I thought he was about to tell me he was leaving. Sure, I rescued him and he made me a promise, but he must have his own journey to go on. I would have understood if he’d gone, but I was relieved when he said something completely unrelated. I definitely would have missed him.
He hasn’t once mentioned how slow I’m being, even if it must be bugging him, which is just another thing that I’m extremely grateful to him for. I just can’t get my body to go any quicker, I’m so tired all the time. Even more so than before. I’m not sure if it’s the emotional upheaval, the grieving, or simply the sheer amount of walking, but I’m finding it all really difficult these days. I just want it to all be over.
During the one time that we’re forced to walk through a town, I find myself staring aimlessly into shop windows, trying to keep a grasp on reality, on my old life. I try to think and behave like I did before all this happened, but it just feels like a character, not connected to me in any way. Why was I so obsessed with pointless things? Stuff that’s so useless—fashion, gossip, the few pounds I wanted to lose. It all just seems like such a waste of time.
“I don’t think we’re far away from your parents’ home now.” Mike has mentioned how close we are to my destination a few times, which is weird because I don’t remember mentioning exactly where we’re going. I can’t recall a lot these days, though; it’s as if I’m losing myself to fatigue.
As I look around, trying to see where we are this time, I realise that I can’t focus because my eyes f
eel weirdly steamed up. I nod, not having a clue where we are, so having to trust Mike’s words.
I can feel the conversation hanging in the air, and the obligation to extend an offer overcomes me. I don’t want to say these words, but they spill out of my mouth anyway. “What are you doing after?” I want to slap my palm over my lips, to stop me from continuing, but it’s too late. The can of worms has already been opened. “I mean, I’m sure my parents won’t turn you away in this…” I can almost hear the uncertainty in my tone.
“I don’t think your family would approve.” He laughs, almost sinisterly. “I have my own plans anyway.”
I don’t insist or question him further, but that answer was odd enough to have me wondering what he means.
***
During the infinite silence, I often find my mind drifting towards thoughts of Jake’s family. I’m still absolutely determined to make sure they know what happened to him—that’s one of my main driving factors. They must be frantic with worry by now, even if they did ignore his calls in the beginning. Things have gotten much bigger than a row between exes at this point.
I certainly don’t want Harry to grow up thinking his dad just forgot about him or didn’t care when he tried so hard to find them. That’s not fair on him, or Jake’s memory, and there’s only me left to do anything about it. I still blame myself for Jake’s death, and although I can’t change that now, I can do this.
Thinking about Jake always brings with it a crippling sense of sadness. I will never ever be able to get over what happened to him. It was so gory and brutal—easily the worst thing I’ve seen in my life. I always avoided watching horror films because I can’t stand the sight of blood, and it was like watching my worst fear happening right in front of me. His body was completely tattered and shredded to pieces. In the end, there was literally nothing left. I couldn’t have even buried him if I wanted to. It was unbelievable.
The worst thing is I can’t help but think I could have really fallen in love with him, given half a chance. Now that opportunity has been stripped away from me, and I’ll never be able to get it back. He’s gone, and so is our potential future.
I think back to the happier times we had together, in an attempt to bring a smile to my face. I remember making such a fool out of myself in front of him, desperate to get his attention. I spent so much time talking about him, planning my outfits, thinking about what I should do next. All with the aim of making him like me. That all culminated in me sending that stupid email—the one I knew was going to end up ruining my life. Granted, I didn’t think it would end up like this!
Then I drift over to the memory of the kiss. I was so happy after that finally happened. I was convinced it was the start of something real. So much happened afterwards, sidetracking us, distracting us away from what could be. It almost restarted, though, the night at the petrol station…
Oh my God!
The thought hits me so hard that I stop dead still where I am. That night in the petrol station was crazy, mad, spur of the moment, no thinking or planning, just living…
Except now I’m thinking that I could be pregnant.
Is that even possible? Could I really be pregnant right now? I’m not sure, I don’t know anything about babies, I’ve never had any interest in them at all. On the rare occasion that someone has tried to talk to me about anything to do with this subject, I’ve always zoned out. It was one of those things I figured I’d learn about when the time came.
Crazy emotions, meat cravings, tiredness…aren’t they all supposed to be signs? I’ve got no idea and I’m really starting to panic. I’m pretty sure we didn’t even consider protection in our drunken haze, which I’m now realising was a particularly dumb move. What an idiot. Stupid, stupid idiot! I can feel a sort of iciness in my spine as my blood is running hot and cold.
“Are you okay? Leah? Leah?” Eventually Mike’s voice begins to penetrate my shock barrier. I didn’t even realise I was mumbling to myself like an insane person.
He sits me down and hands me a bottle of water. I allow the liquid to trickle down my throat, soothing me and calming me down as it runs through me. Mike starts to talk naturally, as if he thinks this will help me return to normalcy.
As I feel my heart rate return to a calmer level, I start to explain my story to him so he can help me. This dark eyed, crazy looking man is the last person in the world that I want to tell this embarrassing issue to, but it isn’t like I have many options available to me. I can feel my cheeks heating up in a blush as I attempt to give minimal details about the problem. I know that it’s silly to feel this way, but I can’t help it.
“And…where’s Jake now?” he asks me as I finish speaking.
I don’t trust myself to say the words aloud, so instead I simply shake my head. At this, the tears start to really cascade down my cheeks and I feel myself wanting to scream. What the hell have I done? I wouldn’t know the first thing to do with a baby, especially one without a father. This is insane.
“Okay, well there’s no point in worrying without definitive evidence. I’ll go and find you a test now. There must be a pharmacy nearby.” He glances nervously towards me. “You just…stay here.”
“Yeah, all right.” I take in a few deep breaths as I watch him leave. As soon as he vanishes from sight, I realise I should have asked him to also have a look for something that could help me with my shoulder wound. It’s getting unbearably itchy now. I find myself scratching it constantly, even when I’m asleep.
As I sit alone on this rock, I’m vaguely aware of all the infected wandering around, not too far away from me. In the past, I would have been petrified about this, but they don’t bother me too much anymore. I’m actually really used to their presence. Their disgusting, vile presence. Luckily they aren’t too concerned with me either, because I’d be no use fighting them off in this state!
CHAPTER THIRTY
Negative.
The pregnancy test is negative, but as I’m reading through the instructions, it’s hardly surprising. Apparently it won’t show for a few weeks, either way. I can’t stand that, I need to know now. How do people wait for weeks before getting the answer? It’s a nightmare! Doesn’t the television advert say that the test can detect pregnancy after day one? Surely technology has developed that far!
I tear up the unhelpful page of instructions, throwing it on the floor in frustration and temper. I’m annoyed at the situation and I’m angry at myself. How did I let this happen?
Now the initial, irrational panic has subsided, I’m starting to see that there are many other reasons I could be experiencing the tiredness and crazy mood swings. After all, this isn’t exactly a normal situation I am going through. I think I’d just feel a lot better if I could rule out the pregnancy once and for all. While it’s still a possibility—however tiny—it’s going to remain lodged firmly in the back of my mind.
I guess if I really think about it, all of this has been developing steadily since I managed to obtain the wound on my shoulder. It’s not great that I don’t know what caused it. The more I look at it, the less I understand how it came to be. I wonder if Mike knows more than he’s letting on. He’s sort of sketchy when I bring it up, and he was behind me when it happened. But then again, it was in the midst of all that chaos, so it’s possible that he’s telling the truth.
I remain out of Mike’s sight for a while, trying to compose my thoughts. I’m a mess right now, and I can’t continue acting normal in front of him when my mind is all over the place.
“Just get through this day,” I mutter to myself. “Get home, then none of this will matter anymore. Just get home.”
Luckily, Mike had the intuition to pick up some painkillers and antibiotics from the pharmacy, so at least the trip wasn’t totally in vain. I pop a few pills, not paying too much attention to what I’m taking, just wanting the agony and irritation to subside.
“I can’t find out for sure yet, but it says negative.” I shrug my shoulders, trying to seem unconce
rned as I get closer to Mike. He nods, his expression stoic. He clearly has no idea what to say—but by this point, there’s really nothing he can say. I smile at him, hoping that through the blur of medication it comes across as sincere.
“Okay, let’s keep on moving?” Mike says this as if it’s a question.
“Sounds good to me.” My voice sounds hollow, devoid of emotion. I’m going to have to put more effort into sounding normal if I don’t want him to pick up on my negative feelings.
I tell myself this, but I have to focus so much attention on getting my body moving that I don’t have enough brain space left for it. In fact, the next time I actually feel fully aware, we’re settling down for the night. So many questions float about in my mind.
When did it get dark?
How far have we walked?
Where the hell are we?
But I don’t vocalise any of them—mainly because I’m afraid of the answer, and what conclusions Mike will jump to. I mean, it isn’t like anything serious is wrong with me. It’s probably just because I’ve been in a daze after the crazy events of today. Or maybe I’ve just become so used to the same routine now—walking, eating, sleeping, walking—that I’ve started to do it on autopilot.
Flames start to flicker in front of my eyes, bringing me back to the present moment. Mike must have started a fire, which is a really stupid, risky move. It puts us right in the firing line.
Just as I’m about to say something, I spot a lot of empty cans strewn around. “Did you eat all of that?” I ask indignantly. “That’s just ridiculous, that’s got to be all of our food supplies gone!”
