Lockdown (AM13 Outbreak Series) (2 page)

Chapter Two

The next few days are uneventful, which is such a relief, but I’m still constantly on edge. I thought there’d be some kind of comeuppance from Jamie for committing such a heinous work crime. At one point I even had myself convinced…anyway, I might as well put it from my mind because everything is back to normal.

As the clock finally hits five on Friday, I stop typing immediately mid-sentence and close down my computer. Michelle and a few others from work, including Jake and I, are going out tonight to celebrate that birthday she was planning. I think Michelle said it’s for Sasha from the legal department, but to be honest, I don’t think she particularly cares who it’s for; she just wanted an excuse for a piss up. I need to look amazing tonight. This is my first real chance. The first time Jake will see me out of work in a relaxed environment and he can see the real, such-amazing-fun-to-be-around me, which he’s obviously going to love.

***

This is a disaster. I frown as I look in the mirror. I’ve tried on at least a hundred outfits, but I think the stress has caused me to gain weight—on my hips of all places—and everything looks weird on me. I’ve also managed to develop teenager-style spots. People seem to assume that a vegetarian diet immediately leaves you thin with amazing skin. Oh, how wrong they are. How could anyone ever like me? My hair is limp, my legs are chunky, and I can never get my eye makeup to look good, however many times I practice it.

But there’s not a lot I can do now, it’s time to go, so predictably I end up in the first outfit I tried on—the black dress and blue heels. What a waste of two whole hours. I feel so panicky that I need a drink just to steady my nerves. Luckily I’ve got a little bit of white wine left over in the fridge, I can’t even remember when from, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Michelle—who looks effortlessly fantastic as usual in a navy knee-length dress that offsets her long legs and rich caramel skin perfectly—and I finally reach the pub where we’re meeting everyone, and it turns out we’re the first here, so we head straight to the bar and get drinks in. We’re just gossiping about the comical new ‘super-secret but everyone knows about it’ hook-up between the married anchor girl and the lighting guy—who everyone had previously assumed was gay—when everyone else turns up. I feel a frizzle of excitement at the possibilities of tonight and smile.

Everyone is having such a great night. Drinks are flowing and we’re all laughing. I’ve made sure I’m sitting next to Jake—death stares can work wonders—and to top it off, we’ve actually been having almost-intelligent conversation. I mean, he keeps laughing at me as if I’m joking every time I make what I think are insightful comments, but it’s in an endearing way, so I’m sure it’s fine.

For example, the guys were all talking about the budget cuts and how it affects the recession according to the latest reports—I know, why do they have to discuss work when we aren’t even there? Still, that’s what you get for going out with a group of people who only have their job in common—I piped up and said that I thought everyone should stop saving their money and just go out and spend it. Surely, that would get the economy moving quicker, right?

I don’t know if Alisha is purposely trying to embarrass me when she laughs and points out that the whole point of the recession is people don’t have a lot of disposable income to spend frivolously, but I can feel my face burning brightly. I have had my suspicions for a while that she’s also after Jake, so her comment stings badly. I just can’t tell if it’s meant in a bitchy way or not—I’ve never been great at detecting things like that. Luckily someone intervenes and attracts the attention away from me quickly, so I can sit quietly for a while, trying to regain my confidence.

As the night goes on, after Sasha pukes and bails (typical, it’s always whoever’s birthday it is that ends up worse for wear) people peel away and join other groups or simply go home, until finally it’s just Michelle, Jake, and I left. Last call is announced and Jake starts putting on his coat, making a move to go. Michelle raises her eyebrows at me and I look at her, confused, because I’m not really sure what she means. The drink has made my brain feel too fuzzy to decipher wordless codes. She starts mouthing something frantically to me which I
still
don’t understand. I suppress a giggle as Jake looks at me, clearly bewildered by my bizarre behaviour.

Suddenly my brain clicks into place; of
course
, we discussed this plan only yesterday.

“Oh, um, are you getting the bus home, Jake?” I question innocently. I’m sure he lives right around the corner from me.

“Nah, I don’t live far, just a little way down there.” He indicates in the direction my home is too. My heart skips a beat and screams with joy. This is it!

“Oh right,” I quickly interrupt. “Me too. I might as well walk with you then, saves us both walking alone.” He goes quiet. Nerves kick in. Oh God, what if he can’t even stand to be around me long enough to walk home? It’s only about fifteen minutes away. How can he dislike me that much? Is he trying to let me down gently? Have I been obvious? I’ve tried not to be too much. Oh God, it’s because I’m ugly. I’ve got that weird kink in my hair at the back, that doesn’t go away however much I straighten it, and to top it off I’ve
definitely
got an annoying laugh. I can’t help these things, he must know that. I mean, no one is perfect. How embarrassing. I’ve been trailing around making idiotic attempts at flirting and he—

“Sure. That would be cool.” He smiles, shaking my thoughts away. My brain has gotten so tied up in knots that I totally forget to smile back.

We’ve been walking along for about five minutes now, chattering effortlessly, and I feel like I’m in a warm happy bubble. This could
actually
happen. He could actually like me. In fact, I’m almost convinced he does. I know, I know, there are so many complications to an office romance, like trying to keep it a secret—we all know that never works—or being silently furious with each other after a row at home about whose turn it is to do the dishes, or even the awkwardness of breaking up. But right now, in this moment I can’t focus on any of the negative possibilities. Only the wonderful romance ahead. I can even see the wedding dress I’ll wear. Ivory lace, strapless with a long train and wonderful stiletto heels. Of course, Michelle will be my bridesmaid, she’ll absolutely love that.

As we reach my door, I force myself to stop thinking. My heart starts to beat so hard that I’m sure he can hear it, and if he can’t, I’m
certain
he can tell that I’m trembling all over. The flush in my cheeks must be obvious as much as the nervous giggle—which has somehow become more annoying than usual. I can see Jake’s lips moving, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. All I can concentrate on is the buzzing in my brain. I should
not
have had that last shot. I knew it was a bad idea.

Then, the panic melts away as I start to get the impression that something is about to happen…

***

As I fall into bed later on, I can still feel his warm lips against mine, his stubble against my chin, and his breath against my cheek. I can even recall exactly where his hands rested on my waist as he held me close. It was such a perfect moment, better than I could have ever hoped for. I feel so happy and relaxed, like I’m on cloud nine—a saying I’ve never understood until now. I can’t get this massive smile off my face. It really did happen.

Everything in the world is absolutely perfect, nothing can shake this feeling.

Chapter Three

Predictably, that’s when the world crashes around me and everything goes to hell.

It starts with me being woken up by a shrill ringing, which is totally annoying because my head is banging. I try and ignore it, but it just won’t stop. My body feels heavy, but I know the only way to get a bit more shuteye is to move and locate the source of that hideous sound.

I agonisingly force myself into a semi-standing position and shuffle across the room, stepping over my haphazardly discarded clothes that are strewn across the floor. How do I always manage to completely trash my bedroom when I arrive home drunk? I’m woozy and nauseated and if I don’t find a way to stop this noise soon, I’m going to pass out or throw up. I
need
to lie down!

I finally find my phone tucked under my handbag in the middle of my bedroom floor, by which point I’m in no mood to talk to anyone. To make it more insulting, it’s a withheld number.

“Yes?” I question rudely.

“Are you her?” comes the reply from an unknown voice.

“Erm.” I have no idea what’s going on and now my head is
really
starting to spin and my stomach’s churning like crazy. I really cannot handle my drink; I should know this by now. What the hell was I thinking drinking shots?

“You know, the, er, ‘zombie’ girl?” the deep voice interrupts my train of thought; the sarcastic tone is not missed.

“Um.” Still none the wiser and definitely in no state to come up with a witty reply, I just fall into an awkward silence.

“Are you the one who found the story?” he asks again. He’s not only treating me like a joke, but also as if I’m totally thick.

I’m about to rant and rave at him for calling me at some stupid hour, talking to me so disrespectfully, when my whole body freezes. I start to have the awful creeping feeling that I know
exactly
what this guy is talking about. My heart races as I wonder who this person is and how he could possibly know anything about me and my mistake.

In a state of panic, I quickly hang up the phone and throw it across the room, watching as it hits the wall and slides to the ground. Instead of caring whether or not I’ve cracked the screen, I race to the bathroom to finally be sick.

With tears sliding down my face and my throat burning, I run myself a hot shower. There’s no way I can go back to sleep after all of that—my mind is all over the place. But as the steaming water pours over me, I can feel my head starting to clear and my muscles relaxing. I can hear my mobile still ringing in the other room, but suddenly it seems a lot less important. Who knows, it could have been someone from work playing a practical joke—that would be just like Michelle—or even a wrong number. It could have been anything really, it’s just the hangover making me panic. In fact, it was probably a dream—just my worst nightmare coming true. I have been on edge all week, after all.

As I’m randomly pulling my comfiest clothes on, I can’t help but notice that I feel a lot better. I can now clearly see that I was being completely ridiculous. There’s no way that phone call was linked to anything that’s happened recently. It’s just an odd coincidence. This week has driven me crazy! At least it ended well with Jake…

The thought of Jake makes me smile widely as I relive how well last night went. It’s what I’ve wanted for…well, it feels like forever, and it didn’t take any fake fashion statements or stupid pranks to make it happen. He just likes me for me. It just took that tiny bit of alcohol for him to realise it.

***

It’s my weekend to work, and Jake’s too, so I have butterflies as I make my way there, excited at the prospect of seeing him again. I can’t help but wonder how we’ll act around each other. God, I so hope it wasn’t just a drunken kiss last night. He did insist it wasn’t when I questioned him at the time, and I definitely didn’t want to push it and come across as desperate. I guess I won’t know for certain until our paths cross in the sober light of day.

As I grab the handle of the office door, ready to open it, I realise my hand is shaking and I let out a nervous giggle. I take a deep breath and push whilst holding my head high and trying to appear confident and cool. I glance down at my outfit quickly, and instantly regret not taking more time over my appearance. Damn that phone call—it threw me completely off track this morning. That guy has a lot to answer for! Surely, one bad outfit choice won’t totally ruin things with Jake, will it? Well, if it does, I’ll just have to remember that I don’t want to be with someone so shallow anyway.

As the door creaks, everyone instantaneously spins around to look at me, completely wrecking the false confidence that I was trying to portray. I feel my face getting warm as I lurch over to my desk. Jake must have told everyone what happened last night, which means we’ll be the office gossip. Damn, I should have mentioned that we should at least
attempt
to keep it private. In fact, the constant scrutiny will probably stop anything from really happening—a thought that actually shatters a piece of my heart. I don’t want to have to give up Jake because of everyone else. That doesn’t seem fair!

Frustration starts to become anger when Michelle interrupts my emotional rollercoaster by whispering, “Toilets, now!” I follow behind her, eager to hear what she has to say. At least I know for a fact that she’ll tell me straight, even if it’s really bad.

Oh God, please don’t be
really
awful news.

As the door slams behind me, I realise in the harsh lighting that Michelle looks a little wild, as if she’s bursting with some news. This causes my heart to leap into my throat and my tremors to increase. Nervous is an understatement for how I’m feeling right now. I gulp down these emotions before speaking.

“Okay, what has everyone been saying? Is it that bad? I have to quit my job, don’t I? Damn it, Jake.” I tug on the ends of my hair, shuffling from foot to foot.

Michelle’s smile falters. “Oh God, you don’t know, do you?” My blank stare must have answered her question because she carries on. “The story, you know, the one you sent Jamie by mistake…he ran it on the news last night. The news anchor kind of read it as a joke and then Jamie got really mad and starting shouting at him in his ear piece and he got all flustered and said
your
name, live on the news!” She looks at me as if I don’t understand the enormity of being named on the ten o’clock news. I don’t. I mean, it’s the local news that no one ever watches anyway. I just feel stunned and more than a little confused.

“But why?”

“Well, I think he just panicked…”

“No, no, no.” How can she misunderstand so badly? “No, why did he put that story on the news? I mean it was a hoax. What the hell was he thinking?” I start pacing up and down, freaking out. “That
is
what the phone call this morning was about.”

“Phone call?” Michelle asks, but before I can reply another one of the girls wanders in, forcing us to return to our desks to continue the conversation.

***

If I was expecting all of this to die down quickly, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Michelle might think all the attention I’m getting is great, but I strongly disagree. The more the day drags on, the worse it becomes and the more terrified I feel.

The local papers keep on ringing, asking all sorts of peculiar questions, and we’ve actually had a call from a national. As it turns out, more people watch our news show than I’d originally thought. Unless some idiot has put the clip all over YouTube, which would just be typical of my life. Fame where I least want it! Everyone keeps crowding around my desk, making me coffees and asking me questions about it all. It’s driving me insane. I’m just speaking in monosyllables, wondering how I’m only finding out about this ‘news story’ now, when everyone else seems to know so much about it.

Actually, thinking about it, we were out. Of course. I haven’t watched any TV or read any newspapers since last night. Damn hangover. I mean, I don’t
normally
watch the news or read papers until I’m forced to at work, but still.

I start feeling really claustrophobic, like I need air. A lot of it. I glance around, trying to spot an escape, but I’m completely blocked in. Just as I’m about to succumb to panic, the atmosphere of the room abruptly shifts.

“Everyone get back to work!” Jamie’s voice booms through the room, shocking me out of my comatose state, and I stand up, almost as a reflex action. Everyone shuffles back to their respective desks, mumbling and talking under their breaths. I watch in disbelief as he stomps over to my desk. I’m undoubtedly afraid, but to my surprise he almost looks as if he’s smiling at me. This is definitely a first. “Please follow me into my office,” he says very quietly.

I’m acutely aware of everyone’s eyes boring into my back. The air is rife with tension as I tentatively shut his office door behind me.

“Now,” Jamie starts as I sit down, still feeling like I’m having an out-of-body experience. “I’m very sorry your name was mentioned on the news last night. That was a very unfortunate mistake.” I can’t help feeling everyone is focusing on the wrong thing. “Of course we’ll help you in any way possible—” I can hear him speaking, but I can’t really focus on the words he’s saying.

“But why?” I interrupt sharply, and then immediately freak out. I have never spoken over someone like that, especially not a boss. I’m practically known for being a bit of a goody-two-shoes towards authority.

“What do you mean, Leah? Why did I run the story? Have you actually investigated the link you sent me?” He laughs. “It’s brilliant.”

“It was supposed to be a joke,” I trail off feebly. He stares at me and I feel like I have to continue. “To, you know, impress a guy.” My cheeks heat up. This has to be the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.

“Well, maybe you should look a bit further into it. It may look on the surface like a hoax, but it’s linked to some real scientific research.”

I stare at him, blindsided by his words. What the hell does he mean, ‘scientific research’? Does he hear how insane he sounds? I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes out. Instead, Jamie tells me more about what he’s learned—even if I don’t want to hear it.

As I try to process each word that comes out of his mouth, my brain zones in on one fact alone. Jamie
really
seems to believe that there’s some zombie-type virus spreading which could threaten everyone. I mean, he’s not actually used the word
zombie
, despite the fact that’s what my whole email centred around, but from his description that’s exactly what it sounds like he’s talking about.

I must be dreaming. That’s the only conclusion I can come to. Any minute now I’ll wake up warm and toasty, if not slightly groggy, in my bed.