Lockdown (AM13 Outbreak Series) (4 page)

Chapter Six

I can still hear them outside. Pounding on the door. Shouting. It’s safe to say they’re definitely taking the side of the story I saw in the newspaper. I’m the idiot that has damaged our show and might lose everyone their jobs. Fan-bloody-tastic. The tears that threatened to start earlier stream down my face as I slump to the floor, right next to the door, just so I can torment myself a little longer by listening to all that’s being said.

There really is no way this day could have gone any worse.

After a while, I can hear the patter of raindrops falling outside. Luckily this is enough to get rid of the journalists. Fortunately none of them care about me enough to soak themselves to the bone. I take a moment to be grateful I’m not famous—that nightmare must be their lives twenty-four-seven. I definitely couldn’t do it, even for the lavish lifestyle that comes with it.

With silence now surrounding me, I can calm down a bit. I pad slowly into the kitchen to grab myself a glass of wine to steady my nerves. My heart is pounding in my throat and I have no idea what to do. As if on autopilot, I switch on the TV in the way I normally do when I arrive home from work, but I instantly realise this is a bad mistake. There seems to only be news program after news program on every channel. Where’s all the trashy TV? Isn’t there always a bad sitcom on somewhere? Why can’t I find anything else to watch?

Suddenly I see the very thing I’m trying to avoid. My picture. That God-awful photograph and my name. I want to turn the TV off and ignore it, but I just can’t seem to do so. The anchor is talking about me, so I pause and slide down to a sitting position on the floor, expecting the absolute worst. I wait for the awful words that were yelled at me outside to be repeated.

Yet somehow this doesn’t happen.

I’m not quite sure what news programme this is; it isn’t one I’ve watched before. I know I should be up-to-date with all the competition, but that’s never been of interest to me. I’ve always been one of those people who only works whilst at work. As I listen intently to the words being spoken, I can’t believe my ears. Here is someone who actually agrees with Jamie, and discusses the virus in great detail. I’m not being shown as a deluded idiot, but as a hero for bringing this to the forefront, giving the world an opportunity to fight it—just in the way some people were doing online. The ones I’d thought were crazy.

I move closer to the television set, completely absorbed by this more positive perspective of me.

Wow, this show has
really
done its research. I recognise all of the early symptoms being discussed: acute tiredness, feverishness, sluggish mindset. It’s all written down in the notes I took whilst reading through the forums for information. Clearly the news researchers from this program followed the same online route I did.

It’s not-so-subtly mentioned more than once that the government needs to come up with a solution, which I can’t help but think is nuts. Do they really think the prime minister is going to care about some fake zombie virus? Whoever started this whole hoax must be absolutely wetting themselves with laughter. Not only did our show play out to their ideas, others seem to be following too. Even the people who don’t believe it will have a little niggle of doubt that it must be based in
some
element of truth.

Then, with an indestructible air about me thanks to that news show, I make a huge mistake and Google myself. Even as I type, I know it’s going to be a mistake. After all, it’s common knowledge you should never do that, isn’t it? I cover my eyes and peek through my fingers as the page loads. As I scroll down through the results, I’m terrified.

***

Well, it could have actually been a lot worse. At least half the websites I’ve looked at are suggesting that I’m great for bringing this story to the mainstream media. Of course there are a lot of posts with the opposite opinion too, but I’m choosing not to focus on them and their nasty words. Because I know there was a lot of belief and information about the AM13 virus online before any of it hit the news, I’m not too concerned it’s my fault people are afraid. Although I am
very
concerned about how seriously people are taking it. I wonder why they can’t seem to see just how absurd it is.

It
is
absurd, isn’t it?

I shake that thought out of my head very quickly. No, I refuse to be tricked as well. I
know
it was a joke; it was my fault it got passed on. Just because I’ve been reading so much about it, doesn’t make it any less ridiculous.

But what can I do? I can’t exactly write ‘
hey guys, it isn’t real, you know?
’ to the only people who aren’t calling me every name under the sun from ‘attention seeking bitch’ to ‘fucked up loser’—okay, I may have paid
some
attention to the spiteful comments posted. The things people will write from the anonymous position of behind their computer screens is unbelievable.

When I log on to Facebook and Twitter I have loads of new friend requests and followers, which is crazy considering I never have anything that interesting to say. Obviously people just want a piece of the action—which will only get worse if the video clip from YouTube ends up going viral. Or maybe people just want more direct avenues to abuse me.

With that sickening thought in mind, I steer clear of social media and choose the much safer option of my email. Unfortunately this is also filled with things about AM13—is there no escape? When I spot a communication from Jamie, I expect to be in trouble, and admittedly I do experience a pang of regret for leaving work the way I did earlier. Instead, he’s just sharing some documentation he’s found and asking me to send everything I have for him too. Is he forgetting I said I wasn’t researching the virus for a story? He’s so focused and driven; he often gets like this when he gets his teeth into something juicy.

One of the emails details the American contingency plans for the infection. I originally only opened it by mistake, but the more I read it, the more I realise how good it looks. It’s admittedly set out really well, and if I didn’t know any better, I might actually believe this is a Presidential Initiative, but I can’t be fooled into thinking this prankster has gotten to the man in charge of one of the most powerful countries in the world. It states that America is in grave danger being so close to Mexico, where apparently it all began, so they need to act swiftly and efficiently to prevent the virus from becoming a massive issue. It then goes on to propose setting a strict time frame of two to three weeks, and putting everyone who isn’t infected—or showing any signs of carrying the infection—into quarantine. The most practical possibility to ensure things are done in a timely manner is to keep everyone inside their own homes. This negates the need for too much money to be put into the initiative. To ensure people don’t have any unmet needs during this time, members of the armed forces will be in charge if delivering food parcels door to door.

Whilst this is going on, others will be responsible for ‘rounding up’ and ‘taking care’ of the infected. There’s no details mentioned as to how they intend to do that part, which is slightly worrying. Especially when I remember the murderous details from the forums.

I re-read this a number of times,
really
considering the idea. It may be based upon a joke, but if this whole thing did, by some bizarre miracle, turn out to be true…wouldn’t that be a great idea? It would certainly save a lot of lives. Not only would I be praised for suggesting this story for the news, I’d also be the hero that came up with all the answers. Imagine how quickly my career would progress after that! I could probably choose my own job…

Locked in my internal fantasy of becoming a high-flyer, I forward the email on to Jamie. I know he’ll just love it.

As soon as I see the ‘sent’ notification, reality sets back in, jolting me out of my imagination. A cold shame sinks into the pit of my stomach. What the hell made me do that? Now Jamie’s going to think I really do believe it all! The prospect of becoming a loved public figure, rather than a hated joke, won me over, but is that
really
preferable to the possibility of a virus that turns people into zombies?

A positive reply pings back almost instantly, sending me all the way from casual guilt to downright nausea. If he really does carry on with this, it’s going to be unbearable when it turns out to be false.

I shut down the computer quickly, wanting to escape it all for a few minutes, and as soon as the screen blinks black, it feels like a fog has been lifted and I’ve been dragged out of the insanity. Damn you, Internet. Allowing anyone to post whatever the hell they want, and so convincingly too.

I glance over to my phone and realise Michelle has been ringing and texting me. God, I must have totally switched off the real world, I didn’t even hear it going off. I click the button to call her back, and she picks up after barely one ring.

“I thought you were really ill just running out of work like that, then not talking to me.” Her tone is panicked and breathless.

“I’m sorry, I—” I start, but she jumps right back in.

“You missed out on loads…” I lean back in my seat. Surely I can’t hear anything worse than what’s already been directed at me today.

***

An hour later, we’re still on the phone and my head is swimming with everything she’s said. Apparently Jamie gave everyone a pep talk about the virus today after I left, and now they’re all on board with focusing almost all of our attention on this story. Michelle
was
stifling a giggle when she told me this part, which just confirms they all think it’s as dumb as I do. But it seems Jamie’s promises of better ratings and pay raises was all they needed to hear.

No wonder they’re all so keen to run the story.

At least I’m not a joke in the office, I guess. I couldn’t bring myself to ask if Jake said anything, and Michelle definitely didn’t divulge the information, so that’s not a good sign.

Anyway, I’m not bothered about what he thinks.

Or the rest of them.

I can just picture all of the emails and texts that must have been sent about me. Probably saying I’m mental. And now they all have to pretend to go along with it, humouring an idiot.

Oh God, what am I going to do?

Chapter Seven

I wake up on the sofa at about three a.m. with my head pounding and my face sticky with tears. Even though I know I should move from this terribly uncomfortable position, I continue to lie there just tossing and turning. I figure there’s not much point in getting up and lugging myself up to bed—I’ll never get back to sleep now, my mind is far too busy.

Instead I sigh and flick on the TV, just for a distraction. Of course, the first thing I see is a random, middle-of-the-night crazy chat show, talking about this story
again
. There’s just no escaping it. I’m going to have to move far, far away. I’ll have to go to Outer Mongolia, or wherever it is people go to escape the Internet, TV, and general society.

I quickly shut the screen down and watch it fade to black. I don’t need any more outside opinions right now—good or bad. My own brain is doing enough wild thinking as it is.

I remain on the sofa in a stupor for hours, just allowing my mind to reel, but it keeps falling back to the same place. My workmates. I’m so embarrassed about all of this. I know they’re supposedly on board with the story, but my insecurities are screaming at me I’m a massive talking point. How can I go back there, fully
knowing
I’m being gossiped about? And to make it even more unbearable, it’s not just that I’ve humiliated myself at the office and in front of Jake. I’ve made a big blunder for literally everyone to see. An error that people seem to believe. There are actually people out there in the world thinking we’re in danger of zombies and a hideous apocalypse because of me.

Well, maybe not totally because of me. I do think a lot of them already thought it was happening, but still.

Zombies are some bloody science fiction made-up thing. There’s no way they can be real. I know the science experts from the Zombie Research Centre—yep, not kidding…there are people whose real life job it is to research the ever present zombie threat—say it’s not a typical zombification virus, but I’ve seen enough B-movie horror films to know the description fits. Apart from the green skin and the lust for ‘
braaaaaaaaaaiiiiinnnnssss.
’

I looked through all of the ‘evidence’—the dissertations, the photographs, and drawings, the interviews from ‘victims’—in my online search,
desperate
to find something to make me feel better, to have some form of belief, but it was all just too ludicrous for words. It was all so clearly fake. Think about it: ghost films, totally terrifying. Totally believable and also definitely possible. Zombie films, laughable. They don’t even use the Hollywood budget to make them look realistic, because they aren’t. No one would ever be fooled.

Argh! This is driving me insane. I rub my eyes hard, trying to wipe my mind clean. I’d give anything for the pleasure of a black, blank mind right now, but the thoughts just keep on coming…

***

I don’t even consciously decide to avoid work for the next week, I just don’t leave the house, or even get up. I’ve stopped answering the door and phone after the first few times. It was just journalists anyway. People I didn’t want to talk to. People asking me all of the questions I’d rather not be forced to answer. I’ve cocooned myself inside my house, blocking out the outside world. I’d like to say it’s wonderful, that I’ve sunk into my own little wonderful world, but it isn’t. Nothing is going away, no matter what I do.

I keep getting random bursts of worry that I’m ruining my life in here, that I’m never going to leave again. But obviously deep down I know this is only until it all blows over—that’s when my life will start again. This definitely isn’t forever. I suddenly realise I’m nodding emphatically to myself as I think this, trying to convince the one person who doesn’t believe me.

Me.

I
do
notice in my self-induced madness that Michelle hasn’t tried to ring me. She’s supposed to be my best friend, so I don’t understand why she’d be avoiding me. I would have thought out of everyone, she would be the one person to care. If it was the other way around, I would’ve been texting and calling her constantly, checking on her and keeping her up-to-date on exactly what’s going on.

Not that I really need her to do that; I can see for myself how much the story has gathered momentum. Every single damn time I switch on the TV or the computer, I’m faced with more and more about the bloody virus. #AM13 has been trending worldwide on Twitter for days—something that’s almost unheard of!

The details released about the virus have become increasingly explicit. Now the information isn’t just coming from the newscasters, but from doctors, scientists, virologists…it’s madness! This just makes it seem much more believable, reliable, and as if everything being spoken is fact. It makes me sick to my stomach with anxiety—how has this gone so far?

The main warning that’s being repeated constantly is to get yourself to the hospital as soon as you spot even
one
of the warning signs. The symptoms listed are pretty standard for this sort of thing: colds, fever, nausea—basically anything flu-like—joint stiffness, muscle aches. They
do
go a little further than normal and include unexplained bouts of rage, odd sensations in your fingers and hands, stomach pains, fuzzy head, dizziness, headaches, fatigue, bad indigestion sensations, numbness in your feet or legs—but these seem much less important.

What worries me is the list is so vague and spread out that the hypochondriac in people will react badly to these vague instructions and
everyone
will end up getting themselves checked out. That just seems like an unnecessary stress on the hospitals, which is
not
something I particularly want on my conscience.

The quarantine concept that was laid out in the email I forwarded to Jamie is also brought up quite regularly. The media seem to really lean on this idea, trying to get it to happen. I suppose the idea of locking everyone inside their own homes for a couple of weeks while they sort out all the infected people is very appealing. I wonder how keen they’d be if we all had to go into an official quarantine building somewhere for a fortnight.

I
can
see the logic behind the idea, you know, if the virus is really spreading. It
would
prevent the infection from getting to everyone, it would definitely save lives. Also, if people refuse to take themselves to hospital, the only people they will put at risk during the quarantine is their own families and I can’t imagine anyone wanting to do that.

From what’s being suggested by the ‘experts’—never clearly stated, I notice—they’re intending to give medicine to the people in the early stages of infection, keep them in special hospital wards for monitoring, and hopefully clear it up quickly. The people who are further along—again, how this will be determined is unclear—will be taken to a proper specialised medical facility to look after them in the safest environment while they work out a cure, which I can only assume means they’ll be subjected to humiliating and painful tests and experiments.

I can’t quite get my head around why they all seem so keen to plough money into this without any proof. Doesn’t that seem mental?

As the days of reporting go on, the question seems to switch from ‘What are they going to do?’ to ‘When is the quarantine going to happen?’—as if it’s just been decided somewhere along the way. I don’t know if I missed something or if it’s just another media tactic, but it’s unbearable to watch all the same. I really don’t know why I continue to torture myself, other than the fact that I can’t bear to be completely out of the loop.

A new statistic begins to be peddled across the TV. Apparently, the way things are going, at least 35% of the world’s population
will
die from the AM13 virus. This sounds quite worrying when you think about it in numbers. That’s over two billion people! Then again, I’m sure they said all this kind of crap about swine flu, and that turned out to be nothing, so I’m not exactly panicked.

The more I roll this idea over and over in my mind, the more I start to think if this quarantine really
does
happen, then I should probably get out now while I still can. It’s okay staying inside by my own choice, but if it’s forced on me I’ll go insane. I’m even overcome with an intense desire to go home to see my family—a feeling I haven’t experienced in a very long time.

No, I couldn’t possibly make that journey home. That would just be madness. I’d unnecessarily worry the hell out of my parents. The ironic thing is it really doesn’t seem that long ago all I could think about was avoiding losing my flat and being sent home. Now all I want is to be back there, with them.

All of this just puts my life in a bit more perspective. I’ve been so concerned with trying to form a career and my life here that I haven’t seen my family for such a long time. I miss them! They’re saying 35%, two billion people, it’s such a high number. I’d regret it forever if I lost them and I hadn’t bothered to visit.

Screw it, I’m going!

I jump up, full of passion, and start randomly throwing things in a bag while I formulate a plan—one to finally get my life back on track. I decide to firstly go over to the office, to apologise for my absence and hopefully make things up with everyone. Then when—fingers crossed—Jamie says my job is safe and the air is cleared, I’ll hop on the first train back to my parents’ home. That way I can be there within the next hour or so.

I can’t wait to see them. I smile to myself at the thought of my mum and dad and the surprise I’m about to give them. I know they’ll be shocked, but hopefully pleased too. Hopefully my younger brother, Felix, is there too. He’s 17 years old, at the age where he’s
much
too cool for me, but I know deep down he’ll be happy. Despite the six year age gap between us—or maybe because of it—we’ve always gotten on really well.

And if I get into work just to find out the quarantine is never going to happen…well, I don’t think I can face coming back here now. Having made the decision to go, it suddenly feels much too quiet for me. I’ve been inside these four walls on my own for too long.

I’ll just figure something out.