by Samie Sands
We move in slowly. Everything seems quiet. I start to wonder if someone has already been in here and cleaned the place out. I open my mouth to ask Randy if this is somewhere that he’s visited before, when a crashing sound comes from nowhere. I emit a small squeal before I can stop myself, and immediately try to cover it up with a cough. Randy isn’t paying any attention to me, he’s on high alert. His gun is held high, aiming in a variety of locations, trying to focus in on its target. How is he so calm?
Nothing happens. Not at first. Randy signals at me to keep moving, so I keep close to him. My heartbeat thunders, my eyes tingle with water. I hate this anticipation, I wish whatever is going to happen would just get on with it. It’s the waiting that I can’t stand. I can hear all sorts of small sounds in every direction. I’m not sure which of them are real and which have been created by my overactive imagination.
A growl, right behind me. This one I know for sure is genuine I spin round; ready to defend myself but before I can even move Randy has plunged a knife into its forehead, forcing blood and filth to cover me. I watch in amazement as it slumps to the ground, its life rapidly ebbing away. He did that so quickly I didn’t even notice it happening. He’s already moving on, not even reacting to what just happened. Is he just so used to things like that? Do they no longer scare him? And if he didn’t see them as zombies, how did he know to kill them like that? I try to think back to the news reports, maybe they instructed this sort of thing, but it’s so hard to distinguish what I heard, what I read, and what I already knew about zombies.
“Okay, so as we discussed, we’ll meet back here as soon as we’ve got everything. If I’m any longer than 20 minutes or anything happens to make you feel insecure, head back to the church—you know the way—and I won’t be far behind you. Don’t, under any circumstances, allow yourself to get hurt.”
He turns on his heel and is gone before I can reply, before I can tell him that I don’t actually remember the way, I was too focused on following his footsteps to notice landmarks on the journey. I shake my head and take a deep breath, promising myself that there’s no point in worrying, it won’t even come to that. I look around, realising I don’t even know where to begin in this place. I’ve never been here to know the location of any of the shops.
I force my feet to move. I’m sure it won’t be too difficult to locate what I’m looking for, and standing still certainly isn’t going to get me anywhere. My heart beat is screaming loudly, my brain buzzing with thoughts, making it very hard to hear anything else. Movement. I heard something, I’m sure I did. My eyes flicker around in every direction; my body is ready to fight. My pulse rate increases rapidly, my head starts to ache with tension.
Nothing. It’s nothing. I’ve got to stop it. The zombie Randy killed has got me paranoid. I don’t know why I’m feeling so frightened, I’ve been through a lot worse. Get a grip, Alyssa.
I continue to creep until eventually I turn a corner and find myself face to face with a pharmacy. The relief of this sight calms me right down. Any more fear might have given me a heart attack. I quickly sprint in, eager for this mission to be over. Much as I’m glad to be outside, being useful, I can’t wait to return and know I’m safe. Then I can reflect on all of this and see the positive aspects with hindsight. I grab boxes of all kinds of medication; pain killers, insulin, antibiotics, a first aid box, anything I can get my hands on. This is a really good idea. Any illness in the zombie apocalypse can be the death of you. It isn’t exactly like medical care is easily accessible. It’s a huge possibility which people probably don’t consider until it’s too late. I feel a little smug at how prepared my group is.
My brain concocts another noise which makes me violently jump, only this time when I spin around, my face smacks straight into a man’s chest. It was real this time, I wasn’t just paranoid. After a split second of panic, I raise my axe, trying to get it above my head, only to feel it come lose and be pulled out of my grip. I try to grasp tighter, but my palms have become silky and useless with sweat.
“Hey, hey,” a calm voice immediately eradicates the possibility of zombies. “There’s no need for that, little lady.”
I look up to find out where the smooth voice is coming from, just to find myself faced with an extremely handsome man, who’s probably in his early 20’s. I’m stunned into silence—his crinkly, infectious smile wiping any possible witty remark right out of my mouth. He’s very tall, about six feet, with pale red hair and sparkly blue eyes. He has a cool preppy look about him—underneath all the dirt and grime. I can just imagine how many girls have fallen at his feet, unable to resist him. In the old life anyway.
“Erm, I, uh—” I stutter, unable to form words. I can’t get my brain to engage, I can’t make it power my voice box. What’s happening to me? I’ve never found myself rendered quite so speechless. I can see he’s amused as my face gets hotter. I hate looking like an idiot and it’s making me even more flustered.
Finally he breaks the silence, trying to put my obvious discomfort at ease. “May I ask what you’re doing here?” I find him so incredibly likable that I start to unwind just from those few words. I don’t even consider distrusting him.
Conscious of time, I tell him a very short, abridged version of the events that led me to here. “Long story short, a group of us are staying in a church nearby. We’ve just come out on a supply run, I’m not actually by myself, but I’ve got to get back soon, so if I could please get my axe back, that’d be great.” I keep looking over my shoulder, trying to highlight the fact that I really need to go. I desperately hope that he doesn’t ask me for more details. Now just isn’t the time to go into my whole saga.
He doesn’t answer immediately so I attempt a different tact. I try pleading with him through my eyes. I try to get across that I can’t leave without my weapon. I feel naked and exposed without it. I start to feel frustration bubbling up inside me. I don’t need this right now. Isn’t the fact that it’s the zombie apocalypse bad enough?
Eventually he laughs, showing me that he was messing with me. I don’t appreciate that at all. I glare at him under my eyelashes, not wanting to escalate the situation, but wanting him to know that I’m annoyed.
Then his expression turns serious. “Okay, I’ll make a deal with you. I’m sick of being here by myself. If I can come back with you, join you at the church, you can have your axe back.”
Initially I’m stumped. Of course I understand his dilemma—I was in the same position myself not so long ago. I know that it’s much safer being with others. Plus, who knows what skills he could possess. He does look very strong and able. I try to picture him fitting in with the group. They were very accepting of me, and Randy did say he wanted to find others. In fact, the more I think it over, the more the obvious answer has to be yes.
I nod silently, unable to trust myself to speak. I’m really hoping Randy is okay with my decision, even though it’s never been appointed; he’s clearly the leader of us all. I can’t think of any reason why he wouldn’t be, but I feel really cheeky making the decision for the group.
As we walk, a thought hits me. “Are you by any chance E?” I hold my breath, praying for him to say he is. I think everyone will be glad to find the mystery person who has been leaving us all messages. That’ll make my decision seem more rational.
Unfortunately he shakes his head. “I’ve seen a message from someone calling themselves E though around town. I’m actually called Pete. How about you?”
“Alyssa,” I answer flatly, disappointed. I can’t believe after all this time I still don’t know who left that note for me in the airport. Now that I know E is still alive, I wish they’d just reveal themselves. Whoever it is must have seen some sign that we’re all still here. So many of us have seen the messages, E must have seen at least one of us.
Luckily Randy is at the entrance of the shopping centre waiting for me. He’s immediately on the defensive as he spots the man behind me. It does look as if I’m being held hostage, or being thre
atened. Pete is looming over me, gripping onto my axe, while I dejectedly shuffle in front of him.
I hold my hands up. “Don’t worry, Randy; it’s not as bad as it looks.” He doesn’t relax his stance. “Pete just wants to come back with us, if that’s okay with you? He’s been here by himself for some time.”
“I’ll have to see what everyone else thinks,” he states, buying himself some time. “Why don’t you tell us about yourself while we walk back? Let me get to know you a bit.” Randy’s being smart with this one—learning all he can about Pete before making a decision.
“Sure, thanks.” Pete smiles widely before launching into his own zombie apocalypse story. “I never trusted the government, even before all of this kicked off. They’re just so corrupt, you know?” I nod, even though I don’t have any idea what he’s talking about. “Well, I knew the Lockdown was never going to work, the AM13 virus was absolutely raging out of control before they even attempted to get a handle of it. I stayed in, of course, I’d have been absolutely crazy not to, but I knew it wouldn’t be long until they had to do something else.
When the news came that they wanted us to fly off to some exotic, supposed safe haven I knew I wasn’t going to go along. The government have no idea what to do and I wasn’t going to get myself killed for another ridiculous plan of theirs—I bet no one survived that journey. So I stayed here, living day by day, minute by minute. I’ve been moving around a lot. That’s how I survive. I don’t think staying in one place for longer than 24 hours is a good idea, that way I never risk getting myself surrounded. I’ve still been through a lot of terrible things, I’m sure we all have to have survived this far, but I do my best to prevent killing where I can.”
I listen intently to his words, trying to picture his experience. It sounds so wildly different to mine, but not in a good way. Personally I think the constant moving sounds exhausting. That idea seems even worse than me stuck bored and alone!
CHAPTER 32
DR. JONES
March 17th
12:20 p.m.
I don’t know what I can write here anymore. I have no further progress to report. It’s all the same. The specimens come through in various stages. They go through stage one and two and end up in stage three. No matter what, that’s what happens. The process might be slightly different and happen at different rates for each specimen, but the end result is the same. I really don’t think there is anything anyone can do to stop it.
No matter what tests I run, what research I do, or even what angle I look at it from, there is no rhyme or reason for why it affects people differently. I think I could look forever more and not find anything out. It’s just ‘one of those things.’ This virus is full of anomalies.
I don’t know what to do now. I’ve been feeling more and more desolate as the days go by. The board is breathing down my neck, demanding results, and I don’t know what I can say to them. If I tell them that I’ve come to the end of everything I can do, they’ll kill me. I just know it. I don’t want to die without at least seeing Ashley and Melody. I can’t allow that to happen. I need them; they deserve to hear all that I’ve done wrong. They need my apology and I want to give it.
As the days whizz past, I’ve been spending more and more time playing chess with Jason. He is still unbeaten, it’s amazing. I know this is a huge waste of time, but it’s utterly miserable watching people change from humans to former shells of themselves. Everyone that comes through here is going to end up going through a painful, terrifying death. I don’t know how much more of it I can stand. It’s utterly demoralising. Without blowing off some steam, I think my mind would collapse under the mental strain. I never planned to allow myself so much pressure in my career. I was always happy in my role, I haven’t ever been one of the overly ambitious, determined to get to the top. I only took this job to ease my guilt and because I was so sure I’d be more of an assistant. I never suspected I’d be the leading scientist. I wouldn’t have even considered taking the job if I had.
The chess games are the only thing that’s keeping me going. It’s uplifting to have something else to focus on that takes my entire attention. It’s escapism. The conversation with Jason is rarely about AM13 anymore. I’ll occasionally discuss theories with him, but I much prefer learning about his life before this disease came along to control it, and it’s a weight off my shoulders to discuss mine. Pre-virus tales remind me that there’s much more to life than the board members and this little room. Without Jason, without chess, I wouldn’t be able to function.
Even my dreams are filled with bites and blood and death. I wake up so many times during the night—heart pounding, covered in sweat—and the nightmare doesn’t end there. I can’t break away from it. It’s so difficult to return to sleep with the growling and screaming infiltrating my mind. The nightmare continues, whatever I do.
I don’t know how much longer I can fend the insanity off. When Jason goes, the madness will consume me quickly, I’m sure. I don’t want to think about the prospect of him ending up as dead as the others because I can’t bear it. In the dark of the night, when the tears start to roll down my cheeks, I can’t focus on anything else.
Luckily for now, he hasn’t progressed anywhere near into stage two. In fact, all of his flu-like symptoms seem to have vanished. He still has traces of AM13 in his blood stream, of course, a clear sign that he’s still dying. Although the cancer drugs still seem to be slowing it down, they aren’t powerful enough to stop it.
Jason’s cancer treatments include:
Monoclonal Antibodies—Panitumumab, ‘target therapy,’ targets and attacks cancerous cells.
Immunotherapy—Bevacizumab, encourages immune system to attack cancerous cells.
Angiogenesis Inhibitor Therapy—Intraconazole, inhibits the growth of new blood vessels.
He has previously been involved with chemotherapy, radiotherapy, and hormonal treatments, but this is the current medication he’s taking, and has been since the Lockdown.
The next stage for me is to separate these medications to figure out which one of these is having an effect on AM13. I can’t do this within Jason, which would provide the most effective response, without endangering him, so I’ll have to do it the old-fashion laboratory way—test tubes, etc.
At the moment, Jason’s the only specimen I’m continuing to run tests on. The others are all in stage three, without any humanity at all, and at this point I don’t see what else they can show me. I can’t see any point in endangering lives just to learn what I already know. Jason is showing me new things. His medication holds some sort of answer; I just need to work out what this is.
It’s the only lead I have at the moment so I have no other choice. I’m praying that this will help me find a way to create an antidote. I hope I’m right to pursue this path.
3:30 p.m.
I can’t help but wonder who put these idiots in charge? Who decided that they were going to control this encampment? I certainly didn’t vote for them. I can’t imagine that they were part of the government beforehand; they seem to have a terribly brutal way of going about things. It feels more like a dictatorship. I can’t help but be suspicious when the threats against me become more violent.
They never say anything outright, but to be honest, they don’t have to. The meaning is very clear. This time it was subtle threats suggested that I’m never going to see my family again. That’s inhumane—they won’t be able to continue treating people this way when life eventually returns to normal, people won’t stand for it. Right now, things are up in the air, confusing, hard to deal with, but soon they’ll get their comeuppance.
I feel hollow. I should feel sad, angry, frustrated. But I don’t. I just feel empty.
When I came here, I just accepted them as the leaders because they told me they were. Is that how they forced themselves in charge? Maybe no one thought to argue with them. I wonder if life for civilians is as bad as it is for me. I wonder if they are run in such a tight fisted manner. Or maybe they
’re just left alone because they haven’t got a job to do, a purpose to fulfil. I’m sure I’d have heard about rioting and rebellion if things were that bad, wouldn’t I? I don’t really know how cut off I am from everything. I just can’t help but imagine these things happening.
For me, things are reaching their boiling point. It isn’t going to be long before things become really dire. I’ve got to get on; I need to make some kind of progress before the next time I see them. I don’t want anything bad to happen to me or my family. I’m so scared for them. Much more than for myself.
I told Jason to stop distracting me with chess. I tried to pretend it was all in good humour with a weak smile and he responded by telling me I was just chicken. But we both know that things are going downhill. He knows how serious things are becoming, it’s obvious. In fact in light of this, for the past hour, he’s been acting as my assistant.
It’s a sign of how awful this virus and the situation is when one of the specimens is helping the scientist that’s experimenting on him.
I really hope we both make it out of here alive. We deserve to, we haven’t done anything to deserve the harsh lifestyle that’s been thrust upon us.
CHAPTER 33
ALYSSA
I can’t believe how annoying Pete has become already. He’s messing absolutely everything up. I almost wish we’d left him behind at the shopping centre. I wish Randy had dug his heels in and refused to bring him along. I know that thought is really cruel, but I’m just so frustrated. He keeps talking all the time about moving. He’s trying to convince everyone that we need to constantly keep changing our location, in the way he has been doing up until now. I can’t see the point of that. Why put ourselves in unnecessary risk when we have a good thing going right here?
