by Samie Sands
I just need to carry on as normal; all these feelings will soon pass me by. I’ll just forget tonight, pretend it never happened, and all will be fine. Really, with flesh-eating zombies roaming around the country, a little bit of mixed emotion is a tiny and insignificant problem. I need to remember that I’m out here camping—my very worst nightmare. I need to ensure I survive so that tomorrow I can tackle Randy and Pete.
It isn’t long before Sarah comes to join me, my watch turn already over. As Pete hasn’t woken up yet, I decide to sit with her for a while, prolonging the time before I have to return to the confines of the tent. We talk about everything and nothing. Mostly tales about our lives before AM13. I’m surprised to find out how cool she actually is. She’s much more laid back out here in this one-on-one conversation. I can clearly see how she has slotted into the ‘caring motherly’ role that our group really needs, but in reality she is so much more than that. It’s nice to be able to feel close to her, knowing how far she’d disconnected from everyone.
After a while, Pete arrives, bleary-eyed and yawing, and I can no longer find a reason to stay. As I wander back to the tent, fatigue starts to get to me and I’m actually asleep before my head hits the pillow. Obviously sitting alone was the best thing I could have done, clearing out any unwelcome thoughts. I never thought I’d be able to rest out here, putting my life in the hands of others. In the past, that would have never happened.
In the end, I’m woken up by everyone else rising. I’m shocked to see that morning has arrived, at one point it felt like that would never happen. Emily barely speaks one word to me over breakfast and again I find myself desperately trying to figure out what I did wrong. She was asleep during my hours of contemplation and I thought she didn’t really notice my initial reaction. Have I somehow given the impression that I’m just another judgmental person? How can I convey to her that couldn’t be further from the truth, without accidentally giving across another incorrect notion?
As soon as the food has been eaten, Pete starts up again about our movements for the day. I try to see if anyone else is starting to find the concept of this lifestyle as insane as I do, but to my intense disappointment, people are either barely listening or showing signs of bare acceptance. Now is the time to speak up. If I don’t right now I’ll be forced to suffer another night in a tent.
“How about we—”
“Come on, Alyssa, now isn’t the time for arguing,” Randy interrupts me again. I can’t work out why he suddenly has such a negative attitude towards me. I thought we got on fine, I never noticed any disapproval from him before. As I glare towards him, I suddenly notice how exhausted he looks. Maybe he thinks I’m just trying to cause trouble, I don’t know what would give him that impression. Instead, I’m spurred on by the prospect that I just know my suggestion is better.
“No, I don’t want to cause issues. I just want to at least discuss my idea. Give everyone another option from this constant wandering. It won’t do us any good in the long run.” My pleading eyes go unnoticed but no one interrupts. “If we could find somewhere safe, somewhere much more suitable than the church, couldn’t we at least attempt to stay there?” I look around to see everyone is intently listening. Finally I’m being considered again. I need to run this home while I have everyone’s attention. “We’re going to need a few days’ rest eventually, this is going to become tiring quickly. If any signs of us becoming surrounded arise, of course we’ll move on and try somewhere else. Camping won’t be ideal forever; we have to consider elements outside of the zombies. Cold, for instance.” I find myself gesturing wildly as if I’m really getting into this role. “And we mustn’t give up hope. I don’t want to accept that England is lost forever. We need to at least believe that one day someone will come back for us. Surely they’re going to want this country to be inhabitable again at some point? We know for a fact that the human race hasn’t died out, this isn’t your typical Hollywood zombie apocalypse film, this is real life. A life where the government has a contingency plan, we just happened to miss it. They’ll come back; we just need to keep on going until then. Finding somewhere safe to stay will help us succeed.”
I’ve gone off on a slight tangent, taking this monologue a bit too far. I’ve started spouting things that are only a minute possibility as if I’m utterly convinced that they’re true. White lies aside, it seems to be working. I spot flickers of positivity and it drives home just how fed up everyone has been. Even me. I always had abstract fantasies about myself thriving in this sort of situation. I envisioned myself becoming a better person simply through living in my own horror film. I thought anything was better than the hollow, shallow life I was surviving in before. But it’s a lot tougher than I could have ever suspected. I may have formed much stronger bonds with people, I’ve actually been in the same place long enough to find friends, but I don’t think I’ve thrived. I don’t think I’m a better person. I think all of this has highlighted how weak I really am. Maybe not physically—I have fought well against the zombies—but mentally. It’s brought to light how little I really know about myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been a full person with an entire personality. I’ve never sat in one place long enough to know a single thing about myself.
A small voice pushes this upsetting revelation aside. Leon pipes up in a tiny voice. “I agree with Alyssa. I liked it better inside than out here. It’s scarier than I thought it would be.” Ben nods emphatically beside him. I smile warmly at them both. I’ve not had a great deal to do with the children; I’ve been trying to include myself in the ‘adult’ section of the group. I’m so pleased that they’ve spoke up for themselves, and not just because they’re on my side. They deserve to be considered in our decisions as much, if not more, than the rest of us.
Fortunately Sarah is immediately swayed by her son’s words and I can see Randy being pulled in every direction too. I keep silent, knowing that I no longer need to contribute. It won’t be long before the majority agrees with me.
“Yeah actually, Mum, I agree with Alyssa too. Camping isn’t as safe as being inside a building. Maybe if we compromise and move between buildings every few days, we can be safer. Plus, we can always keep our eye out for other survivors. We know there must be others.” Emily’s words are unexpected. I thought she was angry at me for some reason, but maybe she is smart enough to realise that this isn’t about me and her. The logic she provides sways everyone onto the right choice. Even Pete can’t find disagreement with her words.
As we walk, I start to think about something else Emily said. Other survivors. We still haven’t found E. This is bound to change that, whoever it is must still be in the area somewhere. We’ve just got to find E now. I pull the battered piece of paper out of my pocket. The words are illegible now but I have them memorised. Plus the writing on that wall has been committed to my memory. Now that I know I’ve gotten my way with our living arrangements, I start to obsess over where E might be now.
CHAPTER 38
ETHAN
Clare.
Clare.
Clare.
I’m back at her townhouse. I finally got here. I finally managed to get myself to do what needed to be done, and she’s not even here.
All those days, weeks of persuading myself that there was no better end than dying alongside the love of my life—even if it did mean getting that disease—and it was all for nothing.
I don’t know if I left the door open as I ran away last time, giving her the ability to escape, or if someone else has been here. All I know is that my world has fallen out from beneath me. I’m sitting at the bottom of her stairs, thinking her name over and over again. I’m probably rocking back and forth like a crazy person…but who cares? There isn’t exactly anyone around to judge me!
I just…I don’t know what to do now. I’ve been focused so long on this one goal, and now I have nothing. If Clare isn’t here, then I have no idea where to even begin looking for her—that’s just an impossible task.
I keep desp
erately wishing that this would all end and life would go back to normal. I miss having a life. Anything is better than this. But if it did return, would I even be able to survive? Look at me, I’m a mess. Too scared to do anything. I was always bad, but now I’m incurable. Even if I thought there was a hope for the human race to overcome this, I don’t believe that there’s a hope for me anymore.
Maybe I should just get it over and done with, and just really kill myself this time. No more waiting until I’m brave enough, or it feels right. Just get it damn well done already. It’s not like I have anything left to live for. I have no one—the entire country is empty! I’ve already accepted that I’m going to die; I came here ready to do it, so maybe I should stick to that plan and do it anyway.
It doesn’t really matter—I’m dying anyway.
I haven’t eaten for…I don’t even know how long. I’m exhausted, skinny, and finding life harder than ever. Death would be easier than this!
But how will I do it?
Just as my mind comes up with hundreds of different concepts of how I could end my miserable little existence, another thought pops into my mind. A woman—one that I haven’t given a passing thought for a little while now. The one that’s still stuck inside my home. Whatever mistakes I made with Clare won’t have happened here. I was sure to lock her in.
I may not be able to die with the woman I love, but surely it’d be better to die with my one remaining family member.
Leah.
She came to me for a reason. I had no idea what that was at the time, but now I do. I’m far too cowardly to actually kill myself. I can think about it as an abstract concept, but actually doing it—that will never happen.
A spark of excitement flickers deep inside me at the thought of having an answer. It may be a crazy one, but right now, I think I am crazy. I jump upright off the stairs and move towards the door. Now that I know what I’m doing, I can push all of the agonising pain that’s racking through my body to one side. I can even live along my doomsday voice, because what it’s screaming at me is what I want to do.
Leah, I’m coming, Leah!
CHAPTER 39
DR. JONES
March 30th
1:25 p.m.
Cough.
Sniff.
Sneeze.
These sounds have started to haunt me. I can no longer ignore the fact that Jason is starting to finally display the early signs of AM13. I’ve been pointedly ignoring the festering wound on his forearm. I’ve been trying to act like it isn’t even there, even though it’s been difficult to take no notice of the fact that it’s been getting more disgusting as time has gone by. Even though I haven’t had a specimen long enough to see the deterioration occurring as much as I would like to, I can see it in this area. It’s black, rotting, and the smell is horrendous. Even though I never comment on it, I can see how much difficulty Jason is having using it. It’s becoming a useless limb.
I can’t help but wonder how much of this is to do with the lack of cancerous cells he now has in his body. Have I brought on the effects of AM13 much quicker by taking away the disease that seemed to be blocking it? He’s still taking his medication, but I don’t think it’s holding the virus off any longer. I can’t help but worry that he will progress through the three stages much quicker having avoided them for so long—and it’s all my fault.
I’ve worked with all the medications I noted previously, I’ve run test after test, but still haven’t come up with something satisfactory. Isolating each chemical hasn’t provided me with a link to which one was holding off the AM13 virus. I’m not entirely sure if Jason has just been lucky. AM13 is so unpredictable, that’s as much of a possibility as anything else, unfortunately.
Using my professional head, I have come up with another—possibly very substandard—theory. Using Jason’s wound; I wonder how long it would take the infected to literally die out. Maybe, without any opportunity to spread the virus further—or a ‘food source,’ of course I still can’t be 100% on my previous notes—maybe the infected will not be able to survive for long. It came to me as more of a passing thought, but the more I obsess over the concept, the more I realise it could be correct.
I can’t see the board being pleased with this idea. It offers no miracle cure or antidote. In fact, all it suggests is that we wait it out until the UK could possibly be much safer. It’s a tough grey area too because judging by the variation in the specimens, it could take a long time for them to all deteriorate into non-existence. Then of course, without the knowledge of what brought this virus into being, the possibility of another flare-up will be an ever present threat.
Part of me wonders if someone somewhere does know where AM13 came from. I would have thought that a lot of time, money, and energy would be put into finding this out. It’s quite possible that it could be some sort of nuclear weapon. Maybe this is World War Three and none of us have worked that out yet. At any rate, I haven’t noticed too much concern about this topic from the board members. Why aren’t they bothered? It’s so curious.
Maybe they started it to get to where they are now.
Ignore that last remark, I’m allowing my emotions and imagination to get in the way of my work again.
4:15 p.m.
16. Kevin Hall, 32, Factory Worker
5”9’, black hair, dark brown eyes.
Previous medical condition—diabetes.
His wife and father are in the camp.
He was brought in during the latter stages of stage two. He’s now in stage three. His body is already showing signs of the deterioration I’ve seen in Jason. I wonder if they’ve all shown this, but I’m just noticing it now as it’s something that I’ve decided to focus on?
17. Joanna Scott, 39, Magazine Editor.
5”2’, red hair, green eyes.
No previous medical conditions.
I have no knowledge of any family left in camp. One of the soldiers has implied that she’s related to one of my previous specimens, but I’m not sure how much truth there is in that.
She’s in stage one, but incredibly ill from the flu symptoms. She’s the first I’ve seen so affected by this. I’ll need to keep an eye on her to see if this not only affects her development, but her condition after reaching stage three.
18. ‘John Smith’
I have no information on this specimen. Nothing was brought with him. I can only assume that he’s in his early twenties. His features are now indistinguishable due to the damage his body has received. He appears to have been in stage three for a long time now—I don’t know why I didn’t receive him earlier. I can’t continue to question the mysteries of what goes on around here—it causes me more trouble than it’s worth.
Whilst the soldiers were in here delivering my new specimens, they attempted to take away specimen fourteen. I managed to convince them to leave her—after all she’s now the ‘oldest’ specimen I have. I wish I’d managed to hold onto some of the others, especially those twins. They were showing some interesting signs, but I let them go because I hadn’t even considered my latest theory at that point. Once they’d delved into the latter part of stage three, I lost interest. They no longer held any merits for me. That’s where my main mistake has been.
But now I’m going to use specimen fourteen, and possibly some of the newer entries, to see if I’m right. Apologies to Rachel Lawrence and her family for using her body for science in such a way. It’s cruel to prolong her agony, but she could give me the greatest clue to all of this.
8:30 p.m.
Something terrible just happened. Something I don’t even want to note down because of the horrible implications that come along with it.
Jason just lost a game of chess to me.
Seeing it written down like that doesn’t even begin to display the catastrophic nature behind the sentence. I feel the need to explain this information further.
As I’ve previously noted, I’ve been playing chess with Jason during the evenings to help me wind down from all
of this intense research. Rather than being a distraction, the change of activity has been helping with my work. Jason is an exceptional chess player and this has been a running joke between us. He hasn’t lost to me once. I’ve taken it all in good humour, enjoying the motion of playing much more than the competition, but this loss has brought everything to light. Everything that I suspected has shone through.
His brain function is starting to fail him.
When I knew that the tables were beginning to turn and the odds were working in my favour, I started to study him intently. He looks terrible. Much worse than when he was inflicted with a combination of cancer and AM13. He’s dying before my very eyes and I’ve failed him because I haven’t worked out a way to save him.
His blood will be on my hands.
I need to get out of here. I’ve got to find a way before I end up insane. I fear that losing Jason on top of everything else will strip me of the little sanity I have left.
4:30 a.m.
Is this what depression feels like? I’ve studied it at some point in my education, but trying to remember it now just brings back fuzzy memories of textbooks and long terminology. That’s the problem with learning, until you fully experience something first hand, you can never truly understand. I’m sitting at my desk and I don’t want to move ever. If I died right now, I wouldn’t care. Not for myself anyway. Of course I couldn’t be so selfish for the impact it could have on Ashley and Melody. But if I only had myself to consider, I’d happily end it all.
Why am I even here? What’s the point of bothering at all?
