by Samie Sands
I step inside, puzzled by the quiet. What the hell? There’s no one else here.
CHAPTER 15
ETHAN
Oh my goodness.
There are so many people here. The terminal is jam-packed. As soon as I see the sight of families, elderly, children, babies, teenagers, my heart lifts with hope. A lot more people have survived than I ever thought possible. It’s amazing; there really is hope for this dire situation we find ourselves in. Maybe the Lockdown was a much better idea than I thought. Without it, I doubt any of these people would still be alive. I wonder how they all managed to get here, undetected—I didn’t see a single healthy person on my travels.
I push my way through the throngs of the crowd, determined to make it to the front. I need my voice to be heard, now more than ever. I’m so focused on my goal, so happy to have made it this far, the faces of Clare, my parents, my family swimming through my mind, that at first I don’t notice.
Sniff.
Sneeze.
Cough.
Splutter.
As soon as I realise what’s happening, I can almost see the germs flying through the air, the wetness landing on my face. I can feel it, crawling inside my skin, making its way down my throat. My pores are filling up with the mucus, the bacteria. My stomach is swirling, collecting all the evil bugs, getting nauseous, making me sick.
Panic.
My heart is screaming, beating faster than ever before. My throat is closing rapidly; soon I won’t be able to breathe at all. I lose focus with my eyes. I can no longer see. I can’t concentrate on any sounds, it’s all muffled, overwhelming. If I don’t get out of this crowd soon, I’m going to faint. I can’t let that happen, I’ll be trampled. I’ll never survive the feet of all these people.
I shove, trying to move, but everyone keeps pushing back, the crowd control nowhere to be seen. All their fingers touching me, spreading it, forcing AM13 inside me. I turn, every direction worse than the last. Faces looming over me, words being yelled in my direction, a blackness threatening to take me.
I finally break free, out the back of the crowd; returning to where I started. I need to get away from here. There’s no way I can sit on a plane with these people. There’s far too much illness. At least one person is infected here, I can just sense it. If someone succumbs to the virus up in the air, there is no escape. Everyone will die. I’ll never make it; I’ll never be able to do it. I won’t be able to force my feet up the steps and into the cabin.
As a snap decision, I move towards the door, fresh air calling me forwards. Just as I’m about to leave, a clear voice breaks through my thoughts, causing me to pause for just a second. “Now everyone, we can’t answer any questions at the moment. We need to ensure everyone gets out of here first, so to keep us all safe, just do as you’re told and we will discuss at the other side.”
They don’t have any answers; the government doesn’t know anything yet. What a pointless trip this has been. I continue on, turning my back on them all. I’m finally paying attention to the negative voice again. This time I think it’s right.
CHAPTER 16
ALYSSA
I’ve been sitting here for hours, trying to work out where I went wrong. It can’t just be that no one else is here, that isn’t possible. The report on the radio—it told me to come here. It said to head to the local airport, that there would be ‘further instructions’ when I arrived. As far as I understand, this is the only airport for miles. It’s quite rural here, so I’m sure this is the main airport for a lot of places. I can’t possibly be the only survivor. I know I’ve been quite arrogant about my personal ability to survive; there must be others equal, if not better equipped for this. This isn’t logical, even if I was the only person left alive, someone from the government would have been here to meet me.
It doesn’t make any sense.
Unless, is it possible that I was sat inside my home longer than I first thought? Shocked and paralysed by what happened with Lexi? Maybe more time passed during that period than I realised, maybe the whole thing has had a deeper impact on me that I ever thought possible. If that’s the case, then I’m well and truly alone. Everyone else has gone off to some refugee camp somewhere. I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking for it.
I can’t even begin to contemplate the idea of coping alone. What will I do? It’ll just be me. And them.
How long can I fight? It’s become like a nightmare I can’t wake up from. The concept of a zombie apocalypse seems fun, exciting, a change from real life when you’re idly thinking about it. I admit I was always all for it. I thought a life where money, careers, and responsibility no longer mattered would suit me much better. Because I knew my life was destined to be full of failure, I wanted the drastic change to occur. But the reality of being alone, surrounding by flesh-eating monsters, it’s just awful. If there’s no chance of rescue, of finding the others, I think I’d rather be dead.
I think back to the wild-eyed guy from before. I wonder what he knew, if he chose to stay behind with his infected girlfriend. I’d like to see him again to ask him what the fuck is happening, especially if he’s the only one around. But then, he’s probably already dead by now. There’s only so long you can last dangling a zombie off your arm.
I liked having a motive, a mission. I don’t know if I’ll be as good just wandering about aimlessly, trying to survive. I certainly can’t head back home now. That thought is much too depressing. My cocky, positive attitude is waning in the dystopian reality that faces me. It doesn’t look like the ‘clean up’ mission is going to be completed any time soon. By the government or me.
Suddenly a glimpse of white catches my eye. I immediately jump up, on the alert. I scan the room quickly, ragged breaths highlighting my position to any enemies. I walk over to what I saw; I’m shocked and reach down to pick it up.
A note.
CHAPTER 17
Alone
DR. JONES
Acetylcholine Malassimilation 1.3 Report
February 28th
5:35 p.m.
Presently, I have seven specimens to assist me with this report, all displaying the varying symptoms of Acetylcholine Malassimilation 1.3—commonly referred to as the AM13 virus.
The virus is evidently RNA, the capsid is impenetrable, protected by a further layer—or virion. It appears to be caused by Orthomyxoviruses, which is why the early symptoms reflect that of influenza.
All of the specimens have an infected upper respiratory tract, which links to their shivering, coughing, aching. However, I cannot see any evidence that interferon is being released and no antibodies are being created—why? Must look further into this. It’s the normal body’s reaction.
MDOS is the next step, causing an uncontrolled inflammatory response and in some cases septic shock. Similar to pathophysiology; respiratory failure, hepatic failure, gastrointestinal bleeding, renal failure. Mortality rate at this stage is 100% as the chance of survival diminishes as the number of organs involved increases—in the case of the AM13 virus, all organs are targeted too rapidly for medical intervention to assist. What would normally take at least a week is taking mere hours.
Brain scans of specimens in the third and final stage of the virus display some unusual activity—expected, as the level of brain activity after all organs have shut down should be zero—that I intend to investigate further during my time working on this report.
The neurons’ cell bodies have a lot of damage—endoplasmic reticulum, ribosomes, and mitochondria are all affected. Only the nucleus, which contains DNA, appears unharmed. The myelin has been stripped from the axon on the interneurons, leaving all the peripheral nerves unprotected—must find out what effect this will have on the senses in the long run, research ganglia?
The cerebellum appears to have lost the substantia nigra, which allows voluntary movement. Without this, it seems the infected are simply living by their instincts. Explains why their motions are often ‘jerky’ and uncoordinated.
The hypothalamus and pituitary gland are not working at all, the activity in these areas are completely null. Disregards previous evidence that the specimens are run by the desire to ‘eat’ human flesh. Have seen this occurring in video evidence however, something I need to look into a lot further—are there any other viruses with similar conflictions?
The cerebrum is no longer made up of the grey and white matter we are accustomed to seeing, it is almost an entirely black area. This explains items highlighted in previous reports into the virus:
The parietal lobe is no longer processing the somatosensory input—will not feel pain. Evidence of sensory aphasia, specimens cannot understand any languages, and do not speak any, but will make sounds.
The frontal lobe and limbic process which contains thought process, memory, and emotions is another completely black area. Specimens show absolutely no activity here, correlates with all previous understandings of victims of AM13.
The occipital lobe and the temporal lobe are allowing sights to be seen, and sounds to be heard, but they are no longer interpreted in a logical manner.
This report is going to be my main aid in determining the origins of the Acetylcholine Malassimilation 1.3 virus, how humans are surviving this infection when the victims are technically ‘dead,’ how the virus is spreading at the pace it is, and a cure.
I’ve been allocated all the possible resources available to help me complete this task. As we are currently in an undisclosed location, I do not have everything within my reach, but I will continue with what’s accessible to me.
I have determined from this initial enquiry that I need to delve a lot deeper into understanding AM13 before I can progress, as I’ve not been able to submit full findings at this stage.
CHAPTER 18
ALYSSA
“Will you just…give up!” I pant as I bring the axe down repeatedly, finally forcing it through the head of an old man. Scratch that—a zombie. I never let myself think of them as people. They are hungry, cannibalistic monsters, nothing more. As soon as you start remembering what they once were, you get distracted. Then you die. It really is that simple.
About a month has passed since I finally made it to the airport, late and alone. A month of surviving by myself, of killing more infected than I ever thought I would have to, of trying desperately to find the refugee camp where everyone else is. I travelled for miles trying to find any signs and clues; you’d think the government would have left directions somewhere, just in case. But nothing. I started to think that maybe everyone was flown somewhere; after all, the meeting place was the airport. I guess that makes sense.
So I was forced to give up, accepting that I was never going to find anyone. I found myself somewhere safe to hole up. I actually got very lucky and found somewhere amazing—almost as if it was designed for this exact situation. A little B and B, all alone down a country lane. It’s brilliant. As it isn’t near any shops, it was stocked high with food and water. It’s also too far out of the way of any towns for the zombies to have noticed it yet.
Of course, I had the unpleasant task of clearing it out initially. Probably the B and B owners and a couple of guests. It didn’t take me long. Luckily they didn’t really have much fight left in them and I was full of determination and confidence. The odd zombie, like the old man I just finished off, occasionally ambles down this way. But apart from that, I’ve been living quite a good life. Considering.
I mean, if I had one complaint, it’d be that it’s boring. The electricity cut out pretty quickly when everyone left, along with the water and gas. So with no television to watch, no one to even talk to, it’s hard. Each minute feels like an hour, each hour could be a week. The only reading material I have access to is a bunch of religious books, which are way too heavy for me to want to read right now. I don’t think this is the ideal situation to have some sort of spiritual enlightenment.
Horror films, sci-fi books, survival television shows. They never show you the incredibly dull side of just getting by. They show all the stress and excitement, which may not be ideal, but this is just…snooze.
I’ve been waiting for a helicopter to come and rescue me. That’s what always happens next, isn’t it? In all the things I’ve watched, the characters always end up being picked up by some sort of military vehicles, just as it seems all hope is lost. I know I’m not quite at that stage yet, but if something doesn’t happen soon I’m going to lose my mind.
I suppose realistically, I don’t actually think I’m going to be rescued; it’s just a little daydream of mine to while away the long, boring hours. They probably thought that everyone was saved in the first place. I imagine they assumed no one would be stupid enough to get left behind. Well, they were wrong. I’m here, for one!
I don’t even imagine myself as an actress anymore, nothing interesting happens anymore to warrant that.
Another bit of bad news is I’m actually starting to run low on the supplies. I’ve somehow managed to get through almost everything in the weeks I’ve been here. I have rationed my food a lot more carefully in recent days, at first I was giving in to a lot of boredom eating; I guess I never assumed I was going to be here this long. So it looks like soon I’m going to have to live out the stereotypical zombie apocalypse fantasy. I’ll leave this solitude and try to find a group.
As always, I envision there’ll be the jock, the geek, the girly girl, the badass girl—I’d quite like to take that role—and maybe even an older married couple with kids. We’ll all put our obvious differences aside to use our combined unique skillset to survive. That’s how it always happens, right? Hollywood says so.
Although it’s been a very long time since I’ve seen a single living person, I’m confident of my chances of finding others. I didn’t find them before because I was too busy looking for a large encampment. But I already know for a fact that other people got left behind too, that I’m not the only one in the UK. Of course, I just have to hope that they’re still alive. The man I saw outside my house with his zombie pet girlfriend—not that I particularly want to be around him—and E.
I’m still here, and if you’re reading this, it means you are too. I’ll come back every day at 7 p.m., so meet me here. E.
The note from the airport. The one that brought me a smidgen of hope in a bleak situation. I went back to the airport for three days, eager to meet E, to have someone alongside me in this new, unusual situation. Just to find myself alone, every single time, so I gave up, dejected. E could’ve been dead, and I wasn’t about to let myself fall to the same fate waiting for this unknown person. But I’m certain there must be others. I cannot be the only one. I don’t want to accept that it’s just me and the zombies.
Well, anyway, I’m about to find out, aren’t I? I already have my bags packed, ready to go. I’ve collected together the minimal supplies that I have left and tomorrow morning, I head out. Nothing will stop me; I don’t have anything to lose anymore.
I actually can’t wait. I don’t feel scared at all. It’s time to inject some excitement back into my life.
CHAPTER 19
DR. JONES
March 2nd
9:50 a.m.
In all of my reading of every single related medical document I have available to me within my given time frame, I’ve not been able to find any past research or diseases that display anything similar to Acetylcholine Malassimilation 1.3, which will help me within this report.
In this case, and with my previous knowledge, I cannot see vaccination being the solution. Even the smallest virus cell entering the body will cause full infection; there’s been sufficient evidence to support this. I’m also extremely wary of the possibility of a cure. With this much damage to the human body, will victims be able to recover and live full lives again? There is no evidence that it is possible to reanimate an organ that has gone through the entire MDOS process.
The specimens I have in front of me have terrible damage to their bodies. I’m going to list this, plus all of the knowledge I hav
e on them below, so it’s all in one place. Locating odd bits of paper is wasting too much time:
1. Julie Parnell, 37, Primary School Chef.
5”9’, 61kg, dark blue eyes, cropped brunette hair.
Existing medical condition—Trigeminal Neuralgia.
Husband, two children, and her mother are in the camp.
She is in the latter stages of MDOS. Not dealing with the pain well. Currently a lot of screaming coming from her enclosure. She wasn’t coherent from the moment she was brought in. She has numerous knife wounds in her stomach and a broken bone in her arm. I understand there was a big struggle just before she was brought in.
2. Mark Andrews, age unknown—possibly late 50’s/early 60’s?
6”2’, 82kg, blue eyes and blond hair.
No information on existing medical conditions.
Doesn’t seem to have any family, can’t find many details about him at all. He was brought in off the plane immediately, showing flu symptoms. At first he was communicating on and off—that’s when I learnt his name. He progressed quickly through the stages and has been in the final stage for two days now. He has scratched and torn his skin throughout stage two, so has a lot of surface damage, but nothing too serious.
3. Oliver Normans, 20, College Student.
5”7’, 68kg, brown eyes, brown hair.
No existing medical conditions.
Parents, three brothers and a large selection of cousins in the camp.
His torso is full of bullet holes, one even piercing through his heart. He was brought in during the third stage of infection, and hasn’t changed since. He has been banging away on his glass enclosure every day and night with no let up. He can be riled up easily, but not calmed down. He is missing a leg. It’s my understanding that this happened after he got infected, it wasn’t a pre-existing condition.
