Lockdown (AM13 Outbreak Series) (12 page)

I grin at Jake as I spot the rows and rows of chocolate bars in front of us. I rush forward quickly, grabbing handfuls of treats. You don’t realise how much you miss sugar until it’s gone. I peel open a wrapper and scarf the bar so quickly you’d think I hadn’t eaten for months. The taste is so sweet and heavenly; it brings my taste buds alive and forms a contented warm feeling in my stomach.

Until I notice that Jake hasn’t joined me. He’s still by the door, frozen on the spot. Why isn’t he eating anything? He must be starving, I know I am. My instincts tell me to walk over to him, to find out what has him so worried. I creep over to him slowly, trying not to make any noise, suddenly feeling sick with fear. All I want to do is grab Jake and hide behind him, while we get as far away from here as possible.

Something’s wrong. Something’s
really
wrong.

The feeling of unease suddenly explodes inside of me, when I see what Jake is looking at. The shop owner. Stood there, right in front of us. How the hell did I not spot him before? I open my mouth to apologise, to tell him that I’ll pay for the food, to convince him that we’re not infected and he’s safe in our presence. My mind is running ten to the dozen, trying to figure out exactly what I should say first. He shuffles forward, his age obviously slowing him down. I back away.

When he steps into the light, I understand. There’s no point in saying anything. Nothing will work. He’s no longer human. He’s infected. He’s dead.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

He’s disgusting. I’ve never seen one this close before, heading towards me with such vigour. I’ve always done my best to avert my eyes from the infected, but now time seems to freeze as I can’t drag my gaze away. What I thought was him shuffling was actually him dragging his broken, bloodied leg behind him. This wound is so deep I can see bone poking through. I can’t help but retch.

The bite on his shoulder is absolutely huge and rancid—all blackened from the infection. His arm is hanging down by his side, completely useless. He’ll never be able to move that again, no matter what happens. His face is also in a terrible state. His skin is a deep grey, much murkier than the others I’ve seen. He must have been infected for a very long time. The bags under his eyes droop incredibly low, causing his face to look deformed. The blood running down his skin, staining all his clothes, looks really old. Scratch marks cover his torso; he looks as if he’s been brutally beaten in some awful fight. I would
never
have thought someone could survive these injuries, they’re just so severe. People have died over much less, and yet here he is, still moving towards us, baring his teeth, ready and waiting to eat.

Jake pulls me hard and I stumble backwards, tripping over a box. I hit the ground hard and suddenly find myself unable to move, as if I’m physically paralysed by fear. It’s almost as if I’m having an out of body experience, looking down at myself, screaming
run
. Something is pulling me upwards, but my body is too sluggish to comply. It just won’t do what I want it to, I’m too panicked. Now I understand how Tim was feeling when he was attacked and unable to scale the fence. Limp and useless. I know an assault is imminent, but I can’t do anything to stop it. I’m utterly screwed, and I’m just sitting here, waiting for it to happen.

I’m shaking, sobs rising up in my chest. I’m going to die if I don’t get up now, so why can’t I? All I need to do is make my way over to the door, but it feels a million miles away. I don’t even know where Jake is. I can hear him hissing at me, encouraging me to move, but I can’t see him anywhere. He might have even made it outside already. If so, he should probably run before he has to witness my death.

Thud
. The loud noise shocks me into looking up.
Thud
. There it is again. This time it’s following by a sloshing sound, like a wet mop hitting the ground. I need to locate the source of the noise. I need to know what’s happening, how long I have left. Can I escape? Can I really survive this? My heart leaps into my dry, panicked mouth and my slick palms slide across the ground.

It’s Jake; I can finally see him. He’s absolutely covered in blood. His axe is discarded on the ground next to him. He’s offering me a hand. I reach up tentatively to grab it, still trying to piece together the scene around me.

“He’s…?” I can’t finish my sentence. I can’t vocalise all the hundreds of questions that are swirling around in my mind.

“Yes, Leah, he’s gone.” Jake blows out some air, as if all the stress is seeping out of his body.

Relief floods my chest, pushing away some of the numb sensation. I’ve never had a near death experience before, so I’m not sure how you’re supposed to feel. We sit silent for a while, just the sounds of our heavy breathing to keep us company. The shop owner doesn’t move again, so I can feel myself starting to relax in his presence. I wonder what happened to him, how he managed to get into that state, when he got bitten—all of these questions that we’ll never get the answer to now that he’s gone forever.

Jake instructs me to grab as much food as I can carry, to try and stock up on enough to get us all the way home, so we don’t have to go through anything like this again. I agree emphatically. I don’t think I’d ever be brave enough to step foot inside a shop again until all of this is over.

Neither of us suggests sleeping inside the shop, even though we probably could, happy in the knowledge that we’re safe. We both just want to get as far away from the infected man as possible.

As soon as we step outside into the fresh air, we make the decision to continue walking as far away from the buildings as possible. It’s dark but not quite pitch black yet, so we still have time before it gets really dangerous.

We walk for an hour or so, until it gets too dark to see. I start to feel panicked that we’re never going to find anywhere—right now, we’re seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

Then Jake utters the dreaded words. “We’re going to have to find somewhere to stop soon.”

I nod, pressing my lips together into a thin line, not trusting myself to speak. I’m tired, overwhelmingly shattered, but I don’t like where this night is heading one bit. Even sleeping inside that shop would be preferable to what I feel is about to happen. At least inside we have four walls surrounding us, keeping the infected away.

“Let’s camp in that field. I’ll make it safe.” Even as he speaks, Jake’s teeth are chattering together, proving just how cold it is.

I watch him work towards sheltering and hiding us, all the while thinking about how exposed we’re going to be regardless. I’m terrified, but can’t see any other choice. There are literally no other options around.

I lie down, but am far too tense to sleep. Every time I attempt to close my eyes all I can see is faces—Tim, the man from the shop, the woman who attacked the biker, and Michelle. Always Michelle. What happened to you, Michelle? Why did you leave me? I wish I’d stayed to find out what happened, but I was scared. You must understand that, and you might never have come back. Then what would have happened to me? I know I’m making excuses for an inexcusable action and I’m sorry for that. I wish I’d never left. I just hope you’re safe somewhere, being looked after.

Guilt swirls around and around, combining with the terror I’m already experiencing, making for the longest and most painful night of my life. I’m actually grateful as the sun starts to rise, putting a temporary end to my misery.

“It looks like we’re alone for the moment,” Jake announces, sitting up. “Shall we eat something before we move?”

I pull out all of the cans from my backpack, instantly noticing that I have no vegetarian stuff left. Why didn’t I grab anything from the shop? I always thought that organising and planning were among my strong points—clearly I was wrong. I’ve failed on so much, and now I’ve left myself nothing to eat. I look down at all the stuff I
do
have, realising that if I want to stay alive, I’m going to have to eat meat for the first time in about fifteen years.

I chew on some meatballs, feeling bile rise up in my throat. They’re absolutely revolting—I’m definitely reverting back to my old diet as soon as I have options again. If I wasn’t so hungry, and didn’t have so much travelling to do today, I’d leave it. Jake keeps laughing at me gagging on every bite, clearly finding my distaste a source of amusement. I’m glad at least one of us is in a good mood!

As we start to walk, Jake begins to incessantly talk, as if he’s desperate to fill every silence with sound. He tells me stories about himself and his son. At first I listen, glad of the distraction. Then, I start to get the horrible sensation he’s discussing all of this because he thinks we aren’t going to make it. I don’t want him to start sinking into a hole of depression; his determination has gotten us this far—I don’t know how we’ll fare without it.

That’s when I make a pledge to myself. No matter what happens, I’m going to get Jake to his son. I’m going to make
sure
that he finds him and gets to know what’s happened. Hopefully he will find Harry and his mother holed up somewhere safe.

Jake’s needs on this journey are
much
greater than mine. I’ll have to ensure that he survives this. I might not be able to make up for what I did to Michelle, but I can do this. I can put Jake and Harry before myself. I have to.

When he starts discussing our next moves, bringing the conversation back to the present, I nod and agree with everything he says. To be honest, he’s much better at taking control of the situation that I am anyway. I think I’ve proven that in the past. I seem to just sit back and let things happen to me, even when it all goes wrong. That’s not a new characteristic that’s been brought on by this situation, that’s always been there. Just look at how I reacted to the virus story being realised under my name. I wallowed in a lot of self-pity, willing it all to just vanish.

We make the finite decision not to spend another night outside, even if it means having to brave another shop, or something similar. However afraid I am of coming across another infected, it’s nothing compared to the thought of sleeping rough again. I just don’t think my heart could take it.

I hesitantly suggest taking the roadway, since we’ve managed to remain undetected this far, and look for a petrol station. Not only will that be safe and protected, we’ll also be able to find more food—which means no more meat—and other things that we need. Luckily Jake is very agreeable with my idea, so now we have a solid plan to focus on.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

We’ve been moving solidly for hours now with no break. I keep finding myself thinking about how I really should have prioritised using my gym membership. I paid for it and barely went—I could
really
use that extra fitness now. I’m struggling way more than I should be.

We’ve stuck to the main road, but we’re constantly prepared to hide at a moment’s notice. That hasn’t been needed, though; we haven’t really seen any infected, and there’s been absolutely no sign of the authorities—which I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse. Really, they should be out all the time, getting rid of the virus and making the food deliveries. I don’t question it out loud, but I can’t help but wonder if things are going downhill.

As we pass by fields, I do my best to ignore all of the poor, wasting-away animals. None of them look as if they’ve eaten in a really long time, which is a side effect of the Lockdown that I hadn’t even considered. By the looks of the odd corpse I’ve spotted, they’re also being attacked by the infected. I guess if they’re eating humans, then it makes sense that animals would be a part of their diet too. I just can’t stand to think too much about it, I find it too upsetting.

Eventually we stumble across the petrol station that we’ve been hunting for. It’s just on the brink of getting dark, so the timing couldn’t be better. There are cars littered around the pumps, as if people were stockpiling diesel in a panic. This seems to be a standard reaction to any kind of dire situation, so I’m not too surprised by this. However, I do find it odd that the cars are still here. I can’t understand why the people driving them didn’t take their vehicles home.

“What happened here?” I ask Jake. He looks just as confused as I feel.

“I don’t know. It looks like these cars were deserted in a panic. I hope whatever the danger was isn’t here now.”

As he finishes this sentence, we immediately hear a low groaning sound, which gets my hackles rising. That noise has become overly familiar to me. It reminds me of the shop owner, of the buildings on that business estate, of the attack on Tim, which can only mean one thing.

My heart is pounding loudly as we crouch down on the ground. I’m certain it’s going to get us discovered; I might as well be screaming for all the noise it’s making. My fear leaves a weird metallic taste in my mouth, and I just can’t think straight long enough to know what to do. I’d be absolutely useless alone; I’m so glad I have Jake here. He seems so calm, so focused. His eyes are flicking in every direction, trying to locate the source of the sound so we can avoid whatever’s making it. I look at him in admiration. It’s incredible how good he is in stressful situations. For a news researcher, he’s surprisingly good at dealing with all of this. His talents clearly lie elsewhere.

“Oh, it’s okay,” he finally says and stands up. “The groaning is coming from here.” He points at a car. Inside is an infected woman, desperately clawing at the window to get to us. She can’t move because she’s trapped by her seat belt, and she doesn’t have enough intelligence left to realise that’s what’s pinning her down. She obviously can’t even remember how to take a seat belt off! Clearly the reports that the brain function is one of the quickest to go must be right.

She looks so pathetic it makes me sad. Someone must have brought an infected person here—maybe wanting to drive them away somewhere safe—but the virus took hold and they started to attack people. I start to think how I can’t
believe
people would leave anyone behind, how selfish they’d have to be to do that, until Michelle’s face floods my mind, and that hollow feeling in my stomach returns. I’m in no position to judge anyone.

I can just picture the scene of the attacks here. It’s almost as if it’s happening in front of my eyes. The screaming, the blood, the running, the yelling, the sheer panic. It must have been horrendous for people to run, leaving their cars behind. Hopefully most people managed to escape. If every single person from these cars was caught and bitten—that just doesn’t bear thinking about. There were probably children, and elderly…all of them now the mindless beasts that we’re desperately trying to avoid.

“We have to do it,” I suddenly spit out. “We have to put her out of her misery. It’d be inhumane to leave her here like this. If you meant what you said, and you think she’d be better off dead, then that’s what we have to do.” Even as I speak those words, I know I’m being selfish. After all, it isn’t as if I intend to do the killing. I’m relying on Jake for that.

“Yeah.” He sighs. “You’re right. Plus we don’t want to give her the opportunity to escape.”

I watch him as he swings open the car door and brings his axe down with one smooth movement. I squeeze my eyes shut as the blood starts to spurt out in all directions, realising yet again just how useless I really am.

After the infected woman is no more, Jake wipes his forearm across his face, accidently smearing more blood across him. We walk over to the building quickly, and open the door with ease. It’s been left unlocked, so this time no criminal damage is necessary. I guess whoever had been on duty when it all went wrong left in a hurry, with no concern for security measures.

Before sitting down to relax, we search the building to check there isn’t going to be any surprise attack during the night. To my utmost relief, we find ourselves alone. Just as I’m grabbing some edible food, I see Jake brandishing a bottle of wine in my direction. Despite knowing that drinking isn’t the wisest decision—after all, our reactions will be affected and I don’t exactly relish the idea of suffering a day of this with a stinking hangover—I can’t help but smile and agree. After everything we’ve been through in the past few days, there’s no way we could
not
drink it.

We quickly get very tipsy, to the point of hysterical laughter. It feels nice to blow off a bit of steam, to block out the outside world and the horrors that come with it. We talk about everything else possible—our lives growing up, our families, even people back at the office. The only subject we really avoid is Michelle. That would just be a huge dampener on the first happy evening since all of this began.

After the third bottle of wine—which I notice is disappearing very quickly—I spot a glint forming in Jake’s eye. One I have only seen once before. I start to realise where this night is headed, and just in time too, because before I know it, his mouth is on mine, his hands everywhere. Is this really a good idea? Now? Tonight? With all that’s going on? I mean, we haven’t exactly washed properly for days. This sort of thing usually takes a lot of planning, a lot of grooming, and nice underwear. I don’t think I’ve ever let it happen so spontaneously before.

And then I just force myself to shut my mind off and let my body do the thinking for me.