AM13 Outbreak Series (Book 2): Forgotten (13 page)
“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 threatened. 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!
DR. JONES
March 17
th
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.
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?
The real issue is, as the days pass and the more he puts the idea into everyone’s minds, the more zombies seem to be surrounding us. I don’t know if they’re finally wising up to our scent, or if our trips outside have led them back to where we are. I don’t know where their intelligence levels are at. I have my own preconceived notions, but I can’t rely solely on them.
During one of Pete’s rants, I suggested that he up and go it alone and leave us be, but Sarah got really angry at me for that. She’s far too kind-hearted to see him as he really is. She’s the sort of person that likes to see the best in everyone. That’s not a
bad
quality necessarily, but I do think it could put her in avoidable danger. The worst thing is Pete has a charm and charisma that I can see slowly winning everybody over, one by one. My mood is becoming more thunderous by the second. If they all decide to follow him, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Emily has been colder towards me since we returned. If I try to discuss my annoyance with her, she ends up snapping at me. “Well, it’s your fault he’s here in the first place.” I don’t know what has got her so rattled and she won’t tell me. I’ve tried to talk to her, I’ve tried giving her space, and nothing seems to work. I’m finding this negative quality in her hard work on top of everything else. If I’ve done something to upset her, I’d rather she just tell me. I can’t stand having to second guess myself all the time. I’ve got far too much else to worry about. To be honest, this struggle is all new to me. Emily is the first person whose opinion has mattered to me. No one else has been in my life long enough to have any impact.
If I try to discuss my issue with anyone else, the frustration just bubbles out of me and I end up coming across as irrational and hot-headed. I just can’t seem to keep my cool. I can feel everyone slowly drifting away from me. It’s as heart-wrenching as it is enraging. I thought I was starting to earn respect here, I thought my outlook mattered. Why is everyone so quick to listen to the newcomer? He hasn’t been forced to earn his respect in the way I feel like I have.
* * *
Predictably, something soon happens to sway everyone’s decision permanently. A zombie finally manages to crack the glass of one of the stained glass windows and the constant clawing is making the hole bigger. All the others become far too terrified too quickly and begin acting irrationally. I’m sure if we just secure the place better, we would be able to stay, but no one even pauses for a second for me to say any of this.
Of course, I can see their logic. This place was never going to last forever and while the zombie army grows outside, soon we won’t be able to leave at all and we’ll end up starving to death, but right now I’m far too fractious to allow myself to see any common sense.
Frustrated tears prick my eyes as I squeeze my fists in temper. I’m watching everyone gather up their belongings rapidly around me and I
want
to refuse to leave. I want to stand my ground and insist everyone listen to me but I know it’s far too late for that. I’m not ready to say goodbye to this place yet. As unsatisfied as I’ve found myself feeling, it’s the best ‘home’ I’ve had since the zombie apocalypse started.
I stalk off over to my things and hold my sleeping bag between my fingers. I sense another person approaching behind me. “Pete, if that’s you trying to put your arms around me, I swear I’ll—” I trail off as I turn to see a distinctly female face in front of me. Emily. At the sight of her, the tears start rolling. I can’t even begin to stop them. Her presence has cooled my hot temper, but a barren numbness has replaced it. I hate this sort of emotion, the profound sense of hopelessness, I prefer the anger. Rage I can deal with, I can turn it into something positive. Sadness makes me weak and vulnerable.
Her arms snake around my neck and I rest my weary head on her shoulders. The sound of the zombies snarling lustfully outside is getting much louder. There’s nothing I can do, this place is over. I try to accept this in my heart, but the fear that we’re going to lose people is too much to bear. In here, we’re protected. I’m not sure of my group’s chances out there on the harsh road. They just haven’t experienced it yet, and I don’t want their first time out there to be fatal.
As Emily pulls away, patting me on the back, I try to adapt the old faithful tactic of imagining that none of this is real and I’m on a film set, but I can’t find the enthusiasm for it. This
is
reality; the people that die are lost forever. The zombies outside are actually a real thing and anyone who becomes one can’t take off their makeup at the end of the day and return to normal life. Using my imagination as a coping mechanism has been a childish method of getting by. I can’t block out my worries in that manner anymore. Something inside of me has irrevocably changed.
I can’t let anyone else die. However much I’ve tried to convince myself that losing my family hasn’t bothered me because it was their own fault, I’ll never get over that loss. I’ll never forgive myself. I can’t let the same happen to my new family. I’ve let people in, I’ve allowed myself to care, and now I’m paying the price for that mistake. I always said sentiment in the zombie apocalypse gets you killed, but loving these people crept up on me. I didn’t notice it happening until it was far too late.
I stuff everything into my backpack, trying not to over-analyse my actions. I’ve got to fuel myself forward, however I’m feeling. I need to try to prevent my emotions from being the death of me, I know that, I’ve told myself that so many times, so why do the words feel so hollow now?
I can hear the children talking excitedly between themselves. They have no true idea of the danger we’re about to embark on. This is all a big adventure to them, they’re probably glad to be getting out of here. Being stuck indoors is no good for boys of their age. Everyone else is talking, but I feel detached, more like I’m having an out of body experience and I’m just watching the scene from somewhere else. I’m just a useless void and I need to snap out of it if I’m going to be any use outside of these four walls.
I attempt to focus my attention; I look intently at every single member of the group, trying to gauge their opinions. All their faces show varying stages of distress and fear, except Pete, who looks oddly relieved. He shoots a smile my way and I can’t help my reflex reaction by grinning back. For some reason, the look he gives me makes me feel like we’re the only people in this room. The way he’s gazing at me makes me feel important, like I
really
matter. I can’t fully explain it, even to myself. I feel like he can see into my soul and instead of making me uneasy, the way I’d like it to, I feel a bit flattered by the attention. I hate that. I want to despise him so badly. However irrational my feelings are, I blame him for all the bad things that are currently happening. When I focus on all the problems he’s created for me, it’s easy to. But when he’s looking at me like that, it all melts away.
I drink in his entire appearance again, just like the first time I saw him. Back then I only noticed his looks; I didn’t have a clue about his personality. Now that I know him a bit better, his kind, sweet side shines through, making him that much more attractive. I realise then that he’s exactly ‘my type’—the sort of guy I used to date. I never had a serious boyfriend, of course, we moved about too much, we were never in one place for longer than six months, but I did go on a lot of dates. If I’d met him under any other circumstances, I’m sure I would’ve been flirting like mad by now.
I shake my head, wishing these thoughts away. I’ve just allowed them to enter my brain because I’m feeling upset and maudlin. I can’t think with anything other than my brain during the zombie apocalypse, I don’t want to end up dead because of my feelings for someone else. I’m already too attached to everyone in this group; I can’t add romance or love into the mix. That’ll finish me off for sure.
My ears suddenly zone in on the conversation Randy is having with Sarah. He’s discussing the imminent need for camping material. Panic consumes all of my previous emotions. I can’t camp, I refuse. When watching
any
horror film, I always said that the biggest mistake that the characters made is setting foot inside a tent, leaving just a scrap of material between themselves and the monsters outside.
I refuse. I flatly refuse to allow that to be me.
“No, we should find a—” I’m shushed immediately by Randy. He looks at me impatiently like he doesn’t have time for my nonsense right now. I’m taken aback by his rudeness; he’s never treated me like that before, like an impertinent child. I know we’re all stressed but there was absolutely no need for that.
I’m ambushed by hurt and confusion. I almost consider sitting down and refusing to move until he apologises for treating me that way—however bratty and unreasonable that may be—but then Emily slips her hand into mine and a calming sensation rushes over me and I find myself starting to empathise with Randy. This
is
a tense situation, which we all need to work through together. I shouldn’t take his snappiness so personally.
“Okay, everyone. Me, Pete, and Alyssa will go first, making a route for Emily and Sarah, who will bring Ben and Leon. Understand?” He says this in an authoritative voice, which none of us can disagree with. He’s taking charge, shouldering the responsibility of the decision. Now we just need to make it work.
I watch silently as the doors swing open.
