by Samie Sands
I look up properly now that my eyes have fully adjusted, to take in my surroundings. I’m faced with what appears to be two families. A Hispanic man, holding the shotgun, with his other arm around a young boy who looks exactly like him. They must be father and son. Then, on the other side of the room is the aforementioned “mum,” another young boy, and a teenage girl, who all have very pale, almost translucent skin, and matching hair that’s so blonde, it’s almost platinum.
They’re all looking at me intently, and I’m sure my expression is the same. We’re all regarding each other, trying to figure out where we go from here. I can’t help but think that this isn’t exactly the group I envisioned myself surviving the rest of the apocalypse with. I don’t like to sound awful, but these people look kind of dull, and there are far too many children for my liking. I wanted my time to be action packed, not full of parenting. I can’t really imagine they’re going to make my adventure exciting and fun in any way, and haven’t I spent enough time being bored? Maybe I should just turn around and head back outside, hold out for better.
But the thought of going back outside to the starvation and insecurity makes my insides recoil. I guess I’ll just have to accept what is here in front of me. I might not survive long enough to find anyone else. There might not be anyone else anyway. I need to look at the positives of my situation, I can always transform this group, bring in others to make it what I want. I need to stop thinking such ungrateful, bratty thoughts—at least I’m no longer by myself—that’s a much worse prospect.
I break the silence. “Are any of you E?” It’s a very high possibility. The message I found today wasn’t that close to here, but I haven’t seen any signs of anyone else. I find myself really hoping that the message writer is here. I grip onto the original note in my pocket, anticipation fizzing. At the moment, E is a bit of an enigma, an unsolved mystery. I won’t pretend that it’s all I’ve been thinking about since I left the airport, but the painted message has certainly sparked a brand new interest.
“No.” The man shatters my illusion. “I’ve seen a couple of messages around the town, though. I actually thought it might be you for a minute.”
Full of disappointment and exhaustion, I sigh. Unfortunately I can’t sleep yet, however desperate my body is to give in. I need to get these people to trust me first. They’ll have to accept me into their group before I can be cheeky enough to ask for a bed for the night. If I’m really lucky, I might even get food.
To hurry this process along, I speedily launch into my story of my time during the apocalypse. I may edit it slightly to make it more satisfying for myself, but the basic details are the truth. This works in exactly the way I wanted it to, because it isn’t long before they’re also opening up to me. Thankfully, their tales are accompanied by dinner.
Randy, who owns a farm—which of course explains the gun—and his son Leon, have always run all their power from a generator. This cut out in the early days of the Lockdown, which meant they didn’t have any electricity to keep up to date with the news. Fortunately, they were always very self-sufficient, so they had plenty of food to survive on. Unfortunately, that meant by the time they were forced out of their home, they had long missed the meeting at the airport.
I can sense from the sadness in his eyes and the way his body language is almost retreating, that he lost someone during that time, but he doesn’t divulge any information about this, so I don’t push it. I bet it was Leon’s mother, Randy’s wife. I don’t want to bring down the mood of the evening by getting someone to discuss their losses, so I allow him to tell his story in his own way.
The other family consists of Sarah and her two children, Ben and Emily. On closer inspection, I think Emily is about the same age as me, which puts me in a better mood. At least I’ll have one friend here. They lived in the cottage next to the church—they’re the vicar’s family and he was a very strict, deeply religious man. He forced them to stay behind when everyone else left by plane—which means my suspicions were correct, and there isn’t a refugee camp anywhere nearby. He insisted that they would be safe in the church, and that God’s wrath needed to be faced, not fought.
“We noticed that he was infected a little while after we heard the planes leaving. It sent him madder as time progressed. We hid, frightened as he preached to us over and over that he had to ‘leave the church and join his fellow comrades.’ He kept ranting that it was ‘his mission from the Lord.’ It was awful. He fought his way out and we haven’t seen him since.”
I’m stunned into silence by Sarah’s story. That’s crazy. I’m actually kind of glad the vicar isn’t here; I don’t know how I would have tolerated the insane preacher with his scary God-fearing stories.
I wonder if he’s one of the zombies hammering on the door.
“So we just…stayed. We didn’t know what else to do. Everyone else had gone and we were terrified. I wouldn’t have known how to begin looking after my children out there, with all of that danger.” I’m starting to form a picture of their strict uptight lives as Sarah talks. I try to imagine Emily’s teenage years—I bet she’s the complete opposite to me. I barely had any restrictions growing up; my parents pretty much left me to my own devices. I guess they trusted me not to go off the rails and I never really did. The sad thing is, now I’ll never get to. I’ll always be alone so any rebellion will only hurt me. “I was just starting to get really panicky, wondering how we’d ever survive this, when Randy and Leon crashed in here. A bit like you did, I suppose.” She smiles gratefully in his direction, and I notice a slight blush form on his cheeks.
Finally, the question I’ve been dying to answer is asked. “So did you want to stay here with us for a while?”
A smile plays on my lips as I answer, relief and happiness bursts from my chest. “Thank you so much, I’d love to. I’ll do anything I can to help you out—” Sarah puts her hand up to stop me before I go off on a tangent, and indicates towards a sleeping bag, which I grab gratefully. The fatigue sets in again, I almost forgot how tired I was in all the excitement.
As I lie down I realise what all of this really means. I finally have another secure place to stay, with thick stone walls keeping the zombies away. Plus I have a group which, despite first impressions, are actually really friendly. You never know, they could turn out to be kind of awesome. Plus, we have a gun in our ranks, which can in no way be a bad thing.
Finally, after days of forcing my eyes open, I fall into a deep slumber.
CHAPTER 28
DR. JONES
March 13th
2:00 p.m.
I can’t get my head around the newest orders from the higher ups. It’s worse than anything I’ve ever been asked to do, ever. It’s bordering on immoral. Do they expect me to have no heart just because I work in science? I know that’s the stereotype, but people don’t really believe that, do they? I’m sure there may be others who wouldn’t think twice about doing something like this, considering it’s for the greater good, but not me. My conscience shouts far too loudly.
It’s fucked up, that’s what it is. I can’t take much more of this. Are the people in charge psychopaths? No, maybe not. Maybe they do just want answers but this is just one step too far. Specimen 13.
13. James Max, 8
4”1’, 49kg, dark brown eyes, dark brown hair.
No existing medical conditions.
Mother and three brothers still in camp.
At the moment he’s in stage two. I’ve run all the standard tests on him. I’m just waiting for him to transgress into stage three. Then they want me to dissect him.
Yep, that’s correct. You read it right! I have to dissect this child who isn’t much older than Melody. I’m sat here, watching him die. Not a dignified death either, a horrifying, painful death. It’s not right for this to happen to a child. It sad enough without knowing what’s to come later. Once he’s dead I have to contact the board, who will send in a soldier to put a bullet in his brain. That’s when I have to do it.
I asked, I begged for it to be another specimen. I’d still hate it, but the fact that it’s a young child makes it a thousand times worse. Of course they know this. They refused my request. I know why—I’ve figured it all out, it’s so obvious. They want to break me, to punish me for taking so long with this research. They think I should have fixed everything by now. So, they want to strip me of my humanity, make sure I’m more willing to do whatever they ask of me. They want to destroy any part of me that I have control over.
Nothing is sacred here. The people in charge are willing to go to extreme lengths to get their way. I can’t even begin to imagine what the civilians are going through. It doesn’t bear thinking about. If I’m suffering, they probably are too. I want to see Melody and Ashley, my need is getting more desperate by the day. If I do this, if I can just get through this task, complete their little ‘test,’ I’m going to demand that I visit them. If I really am the best that they have available, surely that gives me some leverage? I’ve got to use that to my advantage. This needs to be more of a two-way street. I can’t do all the giving.
I’ve just got to do the unthinkable first.
6:15 p.m.
It’s done. He’s dead. I did exactly as I was told, ignoring the sensation that this whole thing was wrong. As I contacted the board, I thought about Ashley’s face. When the soldier came in, armed and ready to shoot, I thought of Melody’s face. I tried to ignore the blast and the blood. I tried to think about seeing my family again, but that horror will haunt my nightmares for a long time to come. The board have succeeded in damaging me in that way, at least.
Now his cadaver is laid on the workspace in front of me, taunting me. I can barely remember the moaning, violent beast he’d become, all I can see is the scared little boy calling out for his mummy as another wave of agony hit him. I have the scalpel in my hand, but I can’t bring myself to act. Not yet.
If I put on my professional mind, and think about this act logically, it’s the best thing to do. It really is the next step in my research, it could show up something that I’ve missed. But it’s such a small body. It’s a little boy that didn’t deserve this. His life was cut far too short. Now he is being spared the right to a humane death, his family won’t be able to hold a funeral for him. I doubt they’ll even be told what’s become of him. I wish I could tell them, I wish I could ease my conscience by letting them know that it wasn’t all my fault. But they’d probably rip me to shreds for my part in all of this.
8:45 p.m.
Results from the autopsy:
After performing the typical Y shape incision from the shoulders to the sternum, and opening the chest cavity, the organs were exposed.
They were almost entirely black, shrivelled, as if they had not been in use for years, never mind hours. I removed all the organs one by one, using the en masse technique of Letulle. They could have almost fallen apart in my hands. This merely confirmed what I’d already seen in the MRI scans.
Then I opened up the heart. An outpour of gangrenous pus spilled out. And the same for the lungs, the kidneys, the liver. I’ll read up on this, research further into this as I have a feeling it’s somehow key.
1:10 a.m.
I keep reading over the data from the autopsy, wondering where to go from here. I need another brain. I need someone else to come in on this and help me. I’ve hit a brick wall in my research. Maybe pride has stopped me demanding assistance so far, but no more. I want to find an answer to this, I want to go back to my normal life, I do really want to help everyone that has survived and I can no longer do it alone.
Sometimes even discussing findings with others leads to answers. Just running over ideas and debating opinions. I’m sure many revelations have been stumbled across in this way.
Tomorrow things are going to change around here.
*NB: Specimens one, four, five, and seven were removed from my laboratory today.
CHAPTER 29
ALYSSA
I awaken as the coloured rays of light stream through the window. My night was filled with bizarre and vivid dreams. I always get like that when I’m really tired and have a deep night’s sleep. At first I was confused to find myself surrounded by pews, it took a while for my brain to connect, for the memories to come flooding back.
As the previous day’s events crash into my mind, happiness fills my entire being. I did it. I set myself a goal and I pulled out all the stops to achieve it. I’m actually here, inside the church that I’ve been staring at for days from the top of the hill that now feels a million miles away.
Suddenly, I’m aware of noise surrounding me, coming from every direction. Everyone else is up and busy doing jobs around the building. I blush at my laziness, immediately worrying about what everyone must think of me. I pull myself up quickly and rush over to Sarah, who is hand washing clothes.
“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean…what can I do to help?”
“Don’t be silly.” She brushes me off. “I don’t need help, but you certainly needed that sleep. Just rest today, you’ve obviously been though a lot.”
“I don’t want you to think—”
“I don’t think anything, none of us do. Now go on, let me get on.” She smiles reassuringly and there’s nothing I can do but nod. I don’t want to be seen as the person that doesn’t pull her weight. I’ll just have to make up for it tomorrow.
As I look around at everyone else, I notice Randy is missing. I question Sarah about this.
“He’s out gathering supplies.” I can hear the strain in her voice as she says this. She’s clearly worried about losing someone else. I wonder if there’s anything deeper in her feelings, but instantly dismiss the idea. They’ve both recently lost loved ones; they’ve learnt the hard way not to care too deeply for anyone in the apocalypse. Feelings get you killed. “Maybe he’ll even find some other survivors while he’s out there. I think you’ve given us all a glimmer of hope.” She laughs, but the sound is hollow.
I start wondering if he’ll find E on his travels. If he’s looking it’s totally possible. I try to picture what the mysterious person will look like, but I don’t have a single thing to go on, even the gender. I can feel a longing in the pit of my stomach starting to develop. A need to find E…to meet the person who has written all of these notes. Without them, I might not have made it this far. I might have given up long ago. Maybe I’ll offer to go out with Randy next time. He’s bound to say yes, I’ve already proved my worth as a fighter, and then I can assist in the search. The sooner the mystery is solved, the better. Not just for my peace of mind, but because knowing someone else is out there, alone and unprotected, isn’t a pleasant thought.
For now, I need to find a way to amuse myself. All this relaxing is giving me too much time to think. I’ll start getting restless if I stay like this, and I really want to like it here, I want to be satisfied with this group of people, even if they aren’t what I initially expected. I look around at the others. The two young boys are playing with some toy cars they must have found at some point. I can’t help thinking that it’s nice they have each other; I don’t know how they’d cope with the boredom alone. If I struggled in the B and B, I dread to think how hard it would be for a child who wouldn’t fully understand the severity of the situation.
They look around the same age as Lexi. I try to picture her playing alongside them. I bet she would’ve loved it here. She may have struggled with everything up until this point, but I think having kids her own age would’ve been great for her. As I try to remember my little sister, I realise I’m already struggling to recall all of her features. It’s like my memory of her is already blurry, affected by the way she died. The zombie virus has wiped out all my happy thoughts of Lexi. I didn’t even pick up any photographs of my family when I left. I was so focused on essentials and not getting sentimental, that I didn’t even grab anything to remember them by.
I drag my attention away to Emily before I get too upset. She’s in the corner reading, really concentra
ting on the book in front of her. She was cleaning earlier, but I guess this is what she does when she finishes her daily chores. It’s not as if there is a lot else to do for anyone our age. Too old to play, but too young to fully contribute. I wonder if she’ll be glad of my presence, if having someone her own age here will be a blessing for her. I know it is for me, but I can’t quite work her out yet. She seems quiet, and maybe a little unsociable—she certainly hasn’t made any effort with me yet.
Then again, maybe that’s a downside of being a preacher’s daughter. She’s obviously been brought up very differently than me, so we may not get on at all. We could be far too different to be friends. I really hope that isn’t the case. She’s the closest thing I’ve got to decent, fun company. I know survival is top priority in the zombie apocalypse, but I’ve spent too much time being nothing but miserable. I’ve realised how important amusement really is. I decide not to disturb her while her head is in her book, in case that sparks an instant dislike of me. It’s been so long since I’ve been around people my age I don’t even know how to act anymore, it’s weird.
I sit down on one of the hard wooden pews and let out a big sigh. Again I find a disappointed feeling settling over me. This just isn’t going as planned. I might have a nice group, but they aren’t the fantasy I’d built up in my head. That’s the downside to being a dreamer; real life can never match up to your expectations. I wanted fun, excitement, adventure. Not cleaning, chores, and tedium. I think I’m more suited to the dangerous, outside tasks. However much I struggle with them at the time, the feeling of accomplishment after it’s over makes it all worth it.
I must have huffed louder than I intended to, because I suddenly notice that Emily is staring at me with a bemused expression on her face. I mouth “sorry” and a smile flickers across her lips in response. I catch a glimpse of something, a personality that I didn’t notice before, maybe a cheeky side? I think I might have disregarded her too quickly. Maybe there’s a lot more to this girl than meets the eye. I shuffle over as I see her lower and close her book. I intend to grab this opportunity with both hands and break the ice. If I can get a communication flowing, maybe things will pick up for me. I don’t want to be ungrateful and unsatisfied with what I have. I have to make the best of this situation—it’s the best one I’ve had since the Lockdown began.