Not Dead Yet (AM13 Outbreak Series Book 4)

by Samie Sands

  I’ve also tried to discover how everyone else feels, discretely, but that didn’t help me either. Emma will do anything Bobby wants, she absolutely idolizes him, and Robyn is just happy to be alive. Steve doesn’t seem to like me for some reason, and as for Helen, Frankie, and Jodie...well, I don’t really have time for them, they’re far too childish for my liking. They’re young, in mind as well as body.

  Urgh, this place is hell. I need to get the keys from Bobby in any way possible. Maybe I’ll sneak them away from him at night somehow.

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  My heart is pounding as I write this, I almost screwed everything up just then. I tried to creep around in the dead of night, to get hold of the keys, but I ended up seeing something else entirely. Something that chilled me to the bone. Ross should not be here, I can’t believe that he is. He was just standing in the kitchen, swaying like the ghost thing from that horror movie...what’s it’s name? I don’t know, but it’s seriously freaky. I have to tell the others what I’ve seen then maybe they’ll see that Ross needs to go, and me with him.

  Or just me. I’m still happy for that to be an option.

  I don’t really know how I’ll survive out there to be honest, it all happened so quickly and I didn’t get to see too much of it, but I do know that I’m smart, I’ll go out well-equipped, and I’ll do whatever it takes to see my family again. I’m not keen on all the running and hiding that I’ll have to do to prevent myself from being infected, but it has to be better than this.

  Anything is better than this.

  Carol.

  Dear Diary,

  I won’t fail again. The next time I go for them keys, I’ll get them and I’ll make sure I get out. I’m the bad guy, me, just for telling them what I saw of Ross.

  ‘Maybe he’s traumatized.’

  ‘Are you just saying this because you want to leave?’

  ‘We’re all here for our own good.’

  I should decide what my own good is, not Bobby.

  Carol.

  Dear Diary,

  I have my bag packed; this book that’s become my lifeline, my way to vent, to keep sane, is the last thing to go in. I have no intention of doing anything to harm anyone else, as soon as I’m out I’ll drop the keys outside the door, and I’ll be on my way. Much as these guys wind me up, I don’t want them dead. Bobby did save me, after all. I just want to freedom to live out the end of the world how I want to. I want to be with my people, not strangers.

  Tonight, I don’t care if Ross is performing circus tricks on his head, I’m getting those keys and I’m going. They can deal with whatever mess he is, he ain’t gonna be my problem.

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  Holy mother of...

  Oh, my God.

  This is bad, this is real bad.

  I guess in one way, I was right. We never should’ve had Ross here. Bobby never should’ve opened that door and let him in. In all the things I assumed about him, being infected didn’t even come to mind, but God damn he was caught up with the virus real bad. And if I hadn’t gotten up on my one-woman mission to hot foot out of here, all of us would be in the same state by now.

  I screamed, I actually yelled out in terror as he came after Bobby with a hungry look in his eyes. Even then, I didn’t recognise it as infection, I simply assumed that his shadiness was simply coming to life. It wasn’t until Helen flicked the lights on to see what was wrong with me that it all became glaringly clear. The greying skin, the all-white eyes, the growling. Eurgh, it was disgusting. If I’m totally honest, it might just have put me off going out there at all. If they’re all like that, if the world is covered with them like fleas, then what chance do any of us have of surviving?

  Maybe we’ll be the only ones left.

  I do hope there are others locked away like us, ready to restart the human race when all of this is over. I’m scared now, truly terrified that could be the end.

  I can still see the dark blood all up the walls. We tried for hours to scrub it off, to get rid of any evidence, all of us in a horribly shocked silence. Bobby couldn’t help, he was sitting in the corner, rocking back-and-forth after having killed what I assume is his first ever person. He didn’t want to, none of us did, but there was no reasoning with Ross. There was no human left inside of him. One minute he was him...albeit a bit weird, but the next he was a monster. There’s absolutely no other way to describe him.

  Anyway, he’s dead now. No reason to worry.

  So, why can’t I sleep? Why can’t I get the image of his bashed in head from my mind? Why can I still see the lumps of flesh hanging from his face every time my eyelids shut?

  This is one hell of a nightmare.

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  I miss my books. If there’s one thing I really miss, it’s having lots to read, I don’t have enough to keep me company down here. I also miss cola. And my dog. I try not to think about her too much, because I don’t even want to begin imagining what happened to her, but I miss her like crazy.

  I don’t miss drink. Or cigarettes. Maybe I should, maybe my vices should’ve come back to me now that I’m in the most stressful situation of my life, but I don’t. Is that weird? I don’t know why I’m writing any of this down really, there’s just such a pensive atmosphere in the bunker today, and I guess that’s rubbing off on me. What happened with Ross has affected everyone deeply, it’s brought the reality of out there to us all, and pushed all the silly niggles to one side. We’ve all had our reasons to get disgruntled in here, we’ve all had our fights and passive aggressive comments, but now...well, we aren’t all on the same page or anything, but it’s all been forgotten.

  For me, I’m now considering the real possibility that life might never return to normal. I mean, the supplies down here can’t last forever, so what will we do? What if this virus completely take over, and there’s no way of escaping it? What if humanity is done? This is definitely the worst thing to ever happen to the planet, nothing else even comes close.

  It’s hard to imagine a world without humans. It’s difficult to picture what’ll happen next. I guess none of us will be around to see it, so it doesn’t really matter, but still...

  It’s weird.

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  I don’t even know how to write this down, it’s too horrible for words. Bobby has revealed that sometime in his fight with Ross he got bitten. He even showed us the wound. His arm has an actual chunk missing from it, it’s utterly disgusting. His blood has sort of pooled, turned a gross very dark brown color, and there’s a horrible rotting smell coming from it.

  None of us want to say it, no one wants to admit it, but I’m sure we all must be thinking it. Bobby’s infected, Bobby has the virus and if we don’t do anything about it soon there will be another battle. Only without Bobby, I don’t know if any of us will be brave enough to actually to do what he did. I certainly don’t know if I can.

  Oh God, this truly is horrible. I don’t know what to do. I want out, that dream hasn’t died, but I’m not confident I’ll last very long, I want to use the gun that I know is hiding in here somewhere to get rid of Bobby before he becomes unmanageable, and I also want someone else to take control of the situation. Most of all, I want things to go back to the way they were only a few days ago when my biggest issue was wanting an escape.

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  It’s happening, however much I try to pretend otherwise. Bobby’s changing. It’s more obvious than it was with Ross because we actually know Bobby. We can see the agony plastered across his face, we can hear the rasping in his voice, the changing expression on his face...it’s happening, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it.

  This is horrifying.

  I’ve tried speaking to Steve about it, but as usual, he treated me with contempt. Emma’s a fat load of good, sobbing uselessly in the corner about losing her very best friend in the whole wide world, which leaves m
e with Robyn. I can’t deal with the others just yet, I’ll only resort to them if things get really desperate. I’m going to try and get Robyn to act with me.

  Wish me luck...pieces of paper that don’t understand me, God I must be going mad.

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  Wow.

  There are no words.

  Well, on the one hand, I now know that dealing with Robyn was a mistake, even Helen would’ve been better. But on the other, I’ve screwed us all over. I feel sick to my stomach just thinking about the chaos I’ve just created.

  Robyn freaked out, the moment I mentioned Bobby and the virus. I don’t know if she didn’t see it before, or maybe she didn’t want to accept it, but as soon as I brought it to her attention she turned into a wild woman. She screamed at everyone, generally acted like a violent nutter, and after a long, ridiculous battle, she pushed Bobby out the door, out into the world.

  With the keys on him.

  I screamed at her as she slammed the bunker door shut, trying to stop her from causing it to click, but rage was all of her and she just wouldn’t listen.

  Slam.

  Bang.

  Our last chance of escape gone.

  Now, we’re locked in here. They keys are gone and we’re stuck. This is like a nightmare. What we have won’t last forever, we’re surviving in a ticking time bomb.

  Over and out, until death damn well comes for me.

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  This is getting a little too real now, panic is taking over the bunker. I’m really not sure what we’re going to do. I spent a long time hammering on the door, begging Bobby to let us out or to come back in or something, but I don’t think he’s out there anymore. Either that or this place is soundproof.

  The arguments are getting out of hand, and much as I’m trying to calm the situation down I don’t think I’m doing much good. I’m mad as hell at Robyn too, but screaming and shouting isn’t going to get any of us anywhere. We need to work together to come up with a plan. All we need now is to get out of here. Whatever’s waiting for us out there, we’re going to have to face it.

  We won’t last in here forever.

  If no one will listen to anyone, then I’m going to make it my personal mission to find the gun. Maybe that makes me sound paranoid, but I’d rather me be in control of it than anyone else. At least I know I can trust me.

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  It’s absolutely impossible to do anything privately. Steve has turned into a crazy, stalker freak watching everyone obsessively. I don’t think I’ve seen him sleep since Bobby got kicked out, he’s become all twitchy and weird. Frankie claims he even hit her while she was arguing with Robyn about something, but I don’t know how much I believe about that.

  We need to come together, how do I express that in a way that doesn’t escalate everything?

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  Robyn.

  I understand her better now. I don’t want to, but I do.

  The reason she freaked out, the reason she tried to get rid of Bobby, it was all in panic because of her own situation.

  She’s been bitten.

  I didn’t even notice that she was wearing such high-necked sweaters these days, I hadn’t even paid any attention to the sheer agony on her face the whole time, I was so wrapped up in my own plan. I never would’ve known if she hadn’t confessed to Helen, who decided to shriek the whole damn place down in response.

  I don’t know how it happened, she claims it was Ross, but that doesn’t quite compute in my brain. Still, the finer details don’t really matter now, what does matter is ‘dealing with her’.

  I hate thinking about human life in such a cold and calculated way, but it really is a case of just her or all of us. Either way, we’re all going to die, or become infected if we don’t do anything...but what can we do? We’re all still so clueless about this whole mess really, we’ve only seen little bits of it, but it seems to be the general consensus that we need to kill her before she kills us. Since we’re all properly trapped in here, at least for the time being, it’s one of those dreadful things that needs to be done.

  But how, and by who?

  No one wants to volunteer themselves, especially not when she’s only showing early signs of infection. If there wasn’t horrible smelling blood dripping from her neck, we’d probably all be inclined to believe that she only has a cold or something. How can you justify killing someone for just having a cold?

  For now, because we’re all exhausted and in dire need of some time out, we’ve decided to take turns watching her. If she turns, it’ll be easier to take that step. It’d be even better if we’d found that gun, but I just haven’t had any time to look for it alone just yet. I don’t want to alert anyone else to its presence while things are so fraught.

  It’ll have to be done the old-fashioned way, the disgusting way we did it to Ross.

  I just hope it doesn’t fall to me.

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  Jodie.

  It happened on Jodie’s watch.

  She wasn’t ready for it, but somehow she did it.

  Unfortunately, now she’s in the same boat.

  This is exhausting.

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  I stopped writing because I don’t know if I want to record this anymore. It’s the worst time of my life, but now...now I feel compelled to keep telling this story. I guess in a weird way I keep thinking that if the world does somehow return to normal, then I want there to be some record of what happened to us. If there are family members out there, and not just mine but theirs too, then at least people will know how and why we died.

  Ross, I don’t know his surname, burst in here with the virus. Much as I blame him for the subsequent mess, objectively I’m sure he was just scared. I’m sure he didn’t realize how bad things were going to get.

  Bobby Hankst went out of his way to save people, he certainly saved my life, but it was this heroic tendency that unfortunately killed him.

  Robyn Baker shouldn’t have died. Maybe I complained about her a lot, but she was a lovely person. I guess I’ll never know exactly how she contracted the virus...but it still shouldn’t have happened.

  Jodie Aldrit got infected trying to prevent Robyn from infecting anyone else. Steve took matters into his own hands and finished her off in an event that I never want to remember again...and we thought that was it.

  For a while, Steve, Helen, Frankie, Emma, and I all worked together to try and find a solution. Still, I didn’t tell anyone about the gun, because I’m not one hundred percent certain of its existence, and I’m not fully sure that everyone’s totally on the same page, but it was all going well. Much as we hated what had happened, and none of us wanted to talk about it, we were working towards the one goal of escaping the bunker.

  I really felt like somehow we would do it.

  But then, as a complete shock to all of us, Emma Cranklin killed herself. None of us saw any signs of depression, although maybe we should’ve done. It has been stressful times, but she didn’t appear to be suffering any more than the rest of us. Clearly, she didn’t see any way of us escaping.

  Helen found her, swinging from the bunker’s rafters, and we’ve all been in shock ever since.

  I guess writing all of this down has been the only way I can even think about coming to terms with this all.

  This is a nightmare. Am I being too optimistic, thinking we might get out?

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  I have it. I have the gun. The only question is what do I do with it? I actually stumbled across it when I wasn’t even looking for it, when I was trying to clear up the mess a bit. Admittedly, with all the panic, our cleaning duties have fallen to one side. I was tucked right under Bobby’s bed, sorting out some gone-off food grimly, when my fingers found the ice cold metal.

  My heart skipped a beat, I felt a bit sick, but I tucked
it in my waistband and that’s where it’s been ever since. I just don’t know what to do about it. I keep thinking that I should I tell everyone so we can try and shoot the lock off the door, but horrible possible scenarios keep playing out in my mind. All of someone grabbing the gun and going on a rampage.

  I just need time. Time to work out what’s next.

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  Time isn’t on my side. I need it to make a rational decision, but how can I when things are so bad? I keep pressing my hands to my ears to block out the yelling, just to think, but still, I can hear it. Angry words yelled, frustrations screamed out, humans are not designed to live in such close quarters, especially not with conditions like this, it just isn’t possible. I mean, this isn’t the smallest place in the world, it could’ve been worse, but the intensity of the situation makes it feel tiny.

  If anything, it’s going to drive me crazy and I’ll be the one going on a rampage.

  I shouldn’t joke, it definitely isn’t funny.

  Carol

  Diary,

  Oh my God, oh my God.

  I don’t even...!

  Steve now has the gun. I must’ve dropped it in the night, how did I let this happen? What an idiot! I’ve never been angrier at myself in my life. I’ve been so careful, I’ve been trying to at any rate, and for what? Just to lose it anyway to the one person I really don’t trust?

  I NEED to get it back.

  How am I going to get it back?

  Carol

  Dear Diary,

  Now Helen is dead.

  I have no words, this is all my fault. Guilt weighs really heavily on me. I wish there was something I could do to turn back time. Helen got shot because she wouldn’t stop screaming and yelling. I don’t think she realized that the gun was loaded when Steve waved it in the air, I’m sure she didn’t think he’d use it...but he did.

  Now she’s dead.