AM13 Outbreak Series (Book 2): Forgotten

by Samie Sands

  “Get back!” Randy yells as the zombies start to pile inside. I don’t look behind me to see if they’ve listened. Instead I move forward, trying to push the infected backwards again. As soon as they invade this space, we’ll never make it out. I block out the screaming and shouting going on around me, I need to clear my mind to focus. This is life or death. I can do this, I have to.

  I keep my awareness levels high even as I plunge my axe into the head of a disgusting crawler. I hadn’t seen a zombie missing the bottom half of its body up until this point, so I wasn’t expecting it. Its teeth were just about to sink into my ankle when I felt a drip of its saliva hitting my leg. Thank goodness I did or I’d be infected by now.

  I glance down, revolted by its remains. Its head almost exploded by the force of my axe and has left a terrible, bloody mess at my feet. An eyeball rolls to the left and dark purple sludge sits on my boots. I feel a rush of queasiness as I realise that it’s the zombie’s blood. Whatever has been going on inside its body since it turned has created that gross mess I’m standing on. It’s amazing how much worse seeing these things in real life really is. I think it’s the combination of the sight and the smell. I don’t think the rotten, burnt out flesh is a scent I’ll ever become accustomed to.

  They don’t stop coming. In fact, they’re coming from all angles. There seems to be no end to the undead swarm. Luckily I have Pete and Randy watching my back. I don’t know how many times they’ve saved me, but I’ve also been doing the same for them. It’s so hard to have your eyes everywhere all at once.

  * * *

  I’m panting, I’m out of breath. I’ve lost count of how many zombies I’ve killed. My lovely clean outfit is now covered in blood, pus, mud, and general grime. My hair is dripping with it all. The zombies seem to finally be decreasing in numbers, which is brilliant, because I’m not sure how much fight I have left in me. My arms are thoroughly aching with the constant thrusting.

  “Is everyone all right?” The voice breaks through my barrier of fatigue. I nod, unable to speak yet. I notice a flash of Randy running past me and Pete, back inside the church. He must be checking on the others. I hope they hid well and nothing got inside. We did make a conscious effort to stop all the zombies entering, but anything could have happened when we weren’t aware. I can’t think too deeply into this, we still have to fight the final few until they’re gone or we’re all together and we can run. I hope I have enough energy left to move quickly. I can’t help but think of that massive horde I saw a long time ago as soon as I left my house. I wonder if I can run as fast as I did back then.

  To my utter relief, everyone eventually exits, looking relatively unharmed. As they leave the church, they start running, and despite my body’s screaming protests, I follow suit. We continue until we reach the shopping centre I visited previously—the one where we found Pete. He’s gone inside with Randy, searching for camping equipment, while I wait with the others. I keep my mouth shut, even though there’s a whole lot I want to say about their stupid plan. I can’t suffer a dispute at the moment. I’ll just have to cope for now. I’ve survived outside before and I can do it again, but after tonight I will say my piece. I’ll argue the logical case; I’ll make everyone come around to my way of thinking.

  I can do that—I’m supposed to be the heroine of this movie, for goodness sake!

  I keep up the silence as they run back outside and we hurry towards the woodland. Everything inside me is telling me that this is definitely the wrong thing to do, but still I don’t speak. There isn’t any point; everyone is soaking up all of Pete’s ‘tips’ on how to find a great camping place, so I know no one will want to hear what I have to say. How he’s managed to put everyone so far under his spell—except me, of course—is unbelievable.

  We find a small opening within the trees and before long, the tents are pitched. Even though the cold is starting to set in, we can’t set a fire. That’ll announce our location to any zombies in the nearby area. I can hear Randy, Pete, and Sarah discussing the plans for the night, to keep us safe. I’m sure I would be included in this conversation if I chose to be, but I don’t want any involvement. I don’t want to be responsible for all these terrible decisions being made. I just sit listening, staring at my feet. Times are set for us to keep watch, which we’ll do in shifts and in groups of two. I won’t be sleeping anyway, so this is no issue for me.

  After dinner, the cold becomes too much, so even before the darkness has set in, everyone retires to their tents. Sarah and Randy share with their young children, which leaves me with the choice of bunking with Pete or Emily. An unwelcome fission of nerves settles in my stomach at the prospect of sharing with Pete, and for that exact reason I choose Emily. I can’t figure out what it is I feel for Pete, if it’s hate or something else, and I don’t want to work it out. I don’t need any of this confusion. I just need to focus on survival.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to have a decent chat with Emily, so I find myself really glad of the time alone. We talk for hours and I eventually steer the conversation to the topic I wish to discuss. This new development in our adventure has brought up a lot of feelings that I’ve tried very hard to suppress. Loss. It started at the church, and hasn’t left my mind, even during the fight.

  I discuss my family, reminiscing over past times. I never thought I’d be able to do this—but with Emily, I just feel comfortable. I can feel the tears threatening to come out, but I carry on talking regardless. I can’t keep acting as if they didn’t exist or never mattered. It’s hard enough to grieve or recover from things in the zombie apocalypse—you just don’t have the time; you’re left in a constant limbo—so when I can organise my feelings, I suppose I should. I feel like a balloon being let down a little at a time as I speak. I’ve been so full up of all of this tight, difficult emotion and it’s such a release to finally be able to let it all out.

  I leave out the details of their deaths; it’s obvious that they’re no longer here, so it’s not something that needs to be discussed. I particularly don’t want to go into details of Lexi’s demise; I think that’ll really push me over the edge into despair. I know I’ll have to eventually, but now just isn’t the time. I don’t want Emily to regard me differently, to look at me in an altered way. She may not understand that I did what I had to do. She hasn’t been faced with that situation yet. She views the zombies in a unique way, an academic way—obviously she sees the threat, but her mind just draws unique conclusions.

  When my voice catches and I can’t continue with my story, Emily takes over and tells me about her father. I already know about their time after the zombies came, so she also goes into details of her life beforehand. It quickly becomes apparent that she isn’t as religious as her parents as she regales the time of her teenage rebellion with an undertone of joy. She always hated growing up under such strict rules, so as she reached adolescence, she went far too over the top, trying to separate herself from her family. Drinking, partying all night, even recreational drugs. I’m shocked, I had her down as such a prude, but it seems her youth has been far more exciting and experimental than mine. I guess with no solid friendships, I didn’t have anyone to do all of this with.

  Then my astonishment goes even further as she tells me the tale of trying to hide all of her girlfriends from her dad, for fear of serious retribution, because homosexuality was frowned upon in his church. This stuns me into silence. My eyebrows shoot up so high, they might even have left my face for a second. Emily’s a lesbian. I’d have never in a million years guessed that. As she continues, unaware of my reaction, I start to feel uncomfortable at our close proximity. By picking Emily over Pete have I given her the wrong message? I shuffle about, more obviously that I would like. My cheeks feel like they are on fire, and I stutter, trying to discreetly change the topic. She looks confused, and more than a little hurt.

  “You know I’m not going to pounce on you in the middle of the night, right?”

  “Of course, I—” I st
art to laugh awkwardly. I don’t want to make this situation more prickly than it already is.

  “Because it’s quite obvious that you aren’t into girls…”She leaves that sentence hanging in the air and I nod along silently. I feel oddly disappointed, which is completely the wrong emotion for this moment. I’m glad it’s obvious, I wouldn’t want any uncertainty.

  No, I’m definitely straight, as heterosexual as they come. The tingly feeling that’s inside of me right now is just confusion and shock. I mean, I do connect with Emily, but that is just because we’ve been forced together in awful circumstances. My feelings for her are purely platonic. I would never think of her as anything more, I couldn’t. That isn’t me at all.

  But as we say our goodnights and Emily shuts her eyes, all in can think about is her breath on my face.

  CHAPTER 36

  DR. JONES

  March 24th

  6:15 a.m.

  Things are getting weirder by the second. I still haven’t worked out how to process any of it yet. I haven’t slept in about 36 hours, so not only is my mind reeling with the new information its received, exhaustion is contributing an adverse effect.

  It all started yesterday lunchtime, when my meal was delivered. As I’ve probably commented in an earlier note, the amount of food I’ve been receiving has been more than substantial. In fact, it’s been brilliant because I’ve been able to share it with the specimens that are in stage one and occasionally stage two when they’re still up for eating. Of course, Jason has benefitted immensely. But yesterday I was simply served a few crackers and a tiny lump of cheese. The guy that delivered it to me had put it down and left before I had time to question him. I don’t usually leave my work to talk to anyone that comes down here unless I’m forced to, but it was quite obvious that he rushed so as not to get involved with my fury.

  At first I was confused. I didn’t want to contact the board and complain. That seemed a bit of an unsuitable reaction when resources could very well be scarce. Then I remembered the feast I’d seen only a couple of days before in that boardroom. Things can’t be that dire if they’re eating and wasting food to that extent. I started to moan idly to Jason about it while internally trying to decide on my next move. That’s when it all came spilling out. But before I get to that I just want to comment that I’ve realised the lack of food is my punishment for not acting exactly on their instructions. Because I stumbled across another solution, I’m having my luxuries stripped away.

  This is when, for the very first time, I learned the truth of what’s really happening outside the confines of this building. As I only know it from Jason’s perspective, I’m going to write it down here as his story.

  Jason arrived here approximately the same date as I did. He was alone—he doesn’t mention any family and I don’t ask. Subjects like that can be very sensitive in these times. They didn’t land in an airport, it was a large field, which they were left in for hours before anything was organised. He believes that we are on a small European island somewhere, but no one has been given concrete information about this. He’s heard rumours in camp that it’s an island that didn’t receive much tourism, which is why it was never hit by AM13. He also heard that there is a large wall surrounding the area, but doesn’t know how much truth there is in that. It could all simply be hearsay.

  At this point I’d just like to mention that Jason knows less about the men in charge than I do. He’s as unsure as me as to what gave them the power, although he assumes at least some of them are government members.

  After a while, they were all led to a massive, derelict campsite. Although there was underlying grumbling, no one outwardly complained because it was obvious that no one had much choice—these people had battled through the streets of the UK to get to their airports, just the same as me. This was a much better option than that at least.

  The food portions have always been meagre—Jason was surprised about what I get in here. He’d be furious if he saw what I did in the boardroom—and it’s unbearably freezing cold. They’re living under incredibly strict rules; policed by ‘muscle men’ who don’t appear to have any regulations on the amount of force they’re allowed to use to keep things under control. These are also the people who weed out any signs of infection and bring them in here to me.

  Here is where I asked Jason where his bite came from. He believes that someone snuck in an infected person onto the plane as there have been random flare-ups of the virus within camp. He got bitten by a young boy hours before he was ushered down here—I wonder if this was James Max. Any one that fights against being brought here is shot. There are no second chances. Families are torn apart in a terribly violent fashion.

  This led to dissatisfaction slowly turning into full-blown angry riots. The resolve is obviously awful and everyone is now terribly frightened. Just as Jason was bitten, the living situation was beginning to become excruciating. He ‘dreads to think how awful it must be now.’ When he was brought into this underground laboratory he was shocked by how warm and spacious it is. He has often wondered why they haven’t made this the living space. Of course, the food portions have been a bit of a sticking point as well. Luckily he caught on quickly how little power and control I have, or things could’ve gotten very awkward.

  Life in here has actually been preferable for Jason. He’s felt much safer since he became infected. I can’t even begin to get my head around that one. It must be god awful for that to be the case. It’s hell in here.

  Of course I had to ask why he’d kept all that information from me until now, I’ve complained enough about my fears for Ashley and Melody. But that was the exact reason he gave for keeping me in the dark. He didn’t want to frighten me and send me way off course. He knew what this knowledge could do to me and he didn’t want to distract me from my research. Not for selfish reasons, but he knows that I have to do this to get out. He knows the board will kill me if I don’t.

  But it has now gotten too far. He couldn’t keep it in any longer. He needed to put the fire under my belly to get me motivated again. I understand. I do, but it doesn’t make any of it any easier to digest.

  I can’t focus, I feel sick. I thought writing all of this down would help me make some sort of sense of it, but it hasn’t. I’m more confused than ever. I need to see my family. This won’t do anymore. I can’t do anything, I won’t. They’re on my mind all the time. I must be able to do something? I’d give up my position if I thought that would help but I know with a sure fire certainty that it won’t. If I beg, plead, bow down to their requirements, surely they can’t deny me my family any longer? I know that I’ve already stepped way outside my boundary to allow that to happen, and it didn’t, but I need to try again.

  I can’t carry on like this. I can’t take anymore.

  I have never felt so low before. I have a weird sense of loss, a pit of unease lying flatly in the bottom of my stomach. I shouldn’t be writing this sort of thing really, these notes are supposed to be emotion-free. A scientific journal. But I guess it gives a bigger picture of the events that are going on.

  Or maybe I just need the sense of relief that comes from getting it off of my chest.

  CHAPTER 37

  ALYSSA

  Eventually Randy pops his head into our tent, breaking the one-sided tension. It’s mine and Emily’s turn to keep watch for two hours, after which Sarah will take over with Pete. Apart from Randy, we decided to stick in twos with one ‘fighter’ in each pairing, so that we can watch each other’s backs. I push myself up carefully, but glad to have a valid reason to remove myself from the uncomfortable situation. I’ve barely slept a wink since Emily’s revelation, whereas she has been merrily snoring away, unaware of the effect she’s had on me.

  I climb out solo, enjoying the sensation of the cool breeze brushing my skin. I need some time by myself out in the open air to clear my mind and organise my thoughts. More close proximity to Emily will just cloud my judgement further. I don’t want to experience these strange feeli
ngs. I couldn’t bear it if things became awkward between us; I love my friendship with Emily—she’s the closest companion I’ve ever had. This zombie apocalypse has forced us to become close very quickly, and for someone like me, that’s amazing.

  The thing is, deep down, I do know why I feel so strange but I’m nowhere near ready to admit it to myself yet. I force my thoughts back towards Pete. As much as he annoys me, I feel like we had a real connecting moment back at the church before we embarked on this ludicrous mission. I know I instantly dismissed it, for very good reason. But now, in the light of this new emotional turmoil, I feel the need to revisit it. Why have I not fixated on that occurrence? Why was it so easy to push it from my mind, readily accepting that nothing would ever come between us, but thoughts of Emily become more enticing and tantalising?

  Maybe it’s just the pressure of losing the church. I’ve been feeling all over the place since then. I barely even feel like myself anymore. Maybe it’s just because Emily’s revelation has shocked me. I guess finding out that my pre-conceived notions about her being buttoned-up and very serious were way off has made me reconsider everything. I’m obviously just transferring this into baffling thoughts. Thoughts that far overstep the boundaries of friendship.

  I tug at the ends of my hair, trying to push the images of Emily’s plump red lips, long pale matted hair, and deep chocolate brown eyes out of my mind. I’ve got to stop it. I need to get out of my head. I’m letting my imagination run wild. It’s the damn zombie apocalypse doing this to me. It’s a weird life-or-death situation and I’m clinging onto people in a way that’s much different than what I’m used to. After losing my family and spending so much time alone, it was bound to have some sort of negative impact on me.