Extinct (AM13 Outbreak Series), page 5
We wandered aimlessly, probably looking as much like zombies as the infected, through all the smoke, the dead bodies, the rubble, until we ended up standing outside my tent. It had been torn down, but by some miracle my sleeping bag—with the book inside—was still intact. As much as that seemed impossible, it was true.
I bundled it up in my arms quickly, glancing around wildly as I did, probably looking like a mad person, but not really caring. Everyone had other things on their minds anyway. Jasmine stood by my side, not paying any real attention to anything. She didn’t grab any of her belongings. I asked her if she wanted to check for her tent, but she didn’t even answer me.
She hasn’t actually spoken since.
After a while, everyone who was unharmed and still alive, were rounded up by the leftover guards and taken to the least damaged part of the island, where business has tried to resume as normal—without much success. Any infected that came our way were instantly killed, so we were protected, but I couldn’t help but notice that they didn’t stop coming…
That’s where we still are now. Waiting, wondering, afraid.
“I want to go home,” I state once again, to no one in particular.
I’ve asked numerous times how and when we’re going back to the UK, if that’s what the plan is, but I’m not getting anywhere. I honestly don’t think anyone knows, and that frightens me. A dictatorship, totalitarian regime is far from ideal, but without anyone clearly in charge, we’re actually worse off. Much worse off.
I half wonder if no one knows what’s going on, if the people in charge, the ones who had all the answers, got caught up in the bloodbath, and now they’re no more. I don’t know how I feel about that, I certainly don’t feel as pleased as I thought I would. They did get us here, and I’m sure they must know how to get us back. They also know everything there is to know about this cure. The one that I’m desperate to talk about—after all, we need it now more than ever—but I just don’t know if I can trust anyone. Especially with Jasmine in the state she is.
Every now and again, more people will find their way over to us after they’ve finally come around or braved moving out of hiding. They’re checked thoroughly for bites, if they’re okay then they’re in and if they’re found to be bitten, they’re shot.
I’m disappointed to see how desensitized I’ve become. Death has become almost normal to me. Once, seeing people murdered really bothered me. Now, it’s just another day.
Despite this, it constantly worries me how few of us are left. I spend a lot of my time asking myself if this is it. Of course, none of us really have any idea of what’s going on in the rest of the world, there might be loads of places that haven’t even heard of the AM13 virus, but somehow I doubt that very much. Even if I can somehow devise a plan to make this cure magically appear, if I can find this doctor, will the few of us here be all that’s left? I try and mentally count everyone, frighteningly only estimating a couple of hundred at most. When I consider the population of the UK before all of this, that number is absolutely nothing.
And as for everywhere else…
No, I shake my head angrily; I can’t allow myself to think about that. I can’t allow myself to get sucked into the depression that will bring. I need to focus on the positives, on the fact that I’m still alive. It may not be a massive bonus, but it’s something.
“Okay.” An extremely tried looking man that I haven’t seen before stands in front of us, trying to look official, completely distracting me from my train of thought. “I know you all have questions, and trust me I wish I could answer them all individually…” His expression suggests the exact opposite. “…but I can tell you that we are in the process of devising a plan—”
“To get us home?” someone interrupts.
“Who is?” another voice asks angrily. “Where the fuck were you all whilst ‘devising this plan’? Somewhere safe, I bet. Somewhere warm. While we’re all out here, left to rot.”
“Is your plan for us all to die?”
Suddenly, everyone starts yelling at once, making each point incoherent. Rage blasts from every angle and it isn’t long before harsh words have become fists flying. Anger, aggression, all the frustration from the last few weeks—months even—is being taken out on anyone and everyone.
I cower, afraid. This guy is the first person to actually come and speak to us, to give us some sort of information, and this happens. It’s insane. Why can’t everyone just keep their cool? Just while it’s necessary, just to allow us to find out something, anything!
I grab tightly onto Jasmine’s arm and pull her down to the ground with me, knowing that there isn’t any way this is going to calm down anytime soon. I keep my grip on her as I move us backwards away from the crowd, trying to avoid the heightened emotions, the violence. I can only see this going one way—more death, and I don’t want either of us to be a part of it.
This time, the only thing I grab is the book. My sleeping bag gets sucked into the void of chaos.
Once we’re free of the thick of the crowd, we run instinctively. Again we find ourselves racing away from danger. Are we being cowardly or sensible? I don’t know or particularly care. Staying among all of that would just be stupid by anybody’s standards. Jasmine has tears streaming down her cheeks and I’m struggling to keep my emotions in check too. One of us needs to keep it together and since I’m the only one of us that seems to have any kind of mental balance at this moment in time, I’m going to assume that the responsibility falls with me.
I turn to look at Jasmine as we move, wondering what I’m going to do if she still refuses to talk after all of this. I’m just not qualified to deal with any kind of mental breakdown—especially not by myself—and that’s when I feel my body slam into another.
“Argh!” I cry out, too afraid to stop the sound from rushing out of my throat.
I rub my eyes, shock blurring my vision. My heart has stopped beating, utterly convinced that I’m about to be faced with a zombie, and having no idea how I’m going to deal with it. I may be more desensitised to death, but I highly doubt I can inflict it, especially as I have no weapon to speak of and I highly doubt hand-to-hand combat is the way to go. My limbs are frozen to the spot, my breaths laboured, my body trembling with fright.
“Hey.” Strong arms wrap around me, a familiar smell filling my nostrils. This isn’t someone who’s infected. Relief floods through me and I feel my body sag against the person whose body is much larger than mine.
After a few seconds, I pull backwards to see who I ran into, to see where we go from here.
“Georgie?” the voice gasps, and I nod, stunned.
It can’t be, can it?
I don’t want to believe it. I can’t. This is the last person I was expecting to see. I didn’t actually think I’d ever be face-to-face with this person ever again. Yet here I am, staring into his dark brown eyes once more. He looks different, but familiar too. I can’t quite wrap my head around it.
“Who are you?” Jasmine demands, her voice hoarse from lack of use.
I stare at her, bewildered. I still haven’t quite decided if this is really happening or not yet and Jasmine finally speaking again almost makes it even more unreal.
“I’m a friend of Georgie’s,” the voice says once more. Every syllable he speaks sparks something inside me, feelings, emotions that I’d forgotten all about with the horrors we’d just been through. “I’m Tom.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Between us, myself and Jasmine try to explain everything that’s going on, but it’s difficult to remember and coherently get it all out. I’m struggling to recall what order everything happened in and the exact moment it all went wrong.
As soon as he gets the general gist, Tom immediately heads back to where we just ran away from, insisting we go with him. As much as I don’t want to return to the fight, I trust Tom implicitly, and I’m glad to have someone else make the decisions. He knows what he’s doing; he’s been dealing with conflict his entire life. If anyone can get all of this under control, it’s him—he’s walked back into my life at the exact right moment.
I find myself wishing that this horrible situation had brought out a stronger version of me from within—that’s what happened in my books. My characters started out weak, afraid, shy, but the zombie apocalypse was the making of them. Especially Liza. She was very much like me at the start of the book series, but by the end of book two—Alive—she was an entirely new person. She was a badass zombie slayer who only had time for the strongest of people. She’d gone all the way from an introvert to a leader, and a smart one at that. I guess I always assumed that it was human nature to develop and evolve accordingly in the most horrific situations—I didn’t think it was possible to come out of this sort of thing exactly the same.
I’m not the same, of course, but I think I’ve gotten worse. I’ve become more afraid, more inside my shell than ever. I hate to admit it, I know how it sounds, but I’m just glad to have someone else take control—someone that I trust. I’d rather it be anyone but me.
I feel a little less afraid, going back to the chaos, with Tom by our side, but the look on Jasmine’s face suggests that she doesn’t feel the same. That’s fair—she doesn’t know Tom at all, she’s never met him and after everything we’ve been through why would she trust a stranger? However, despite her mistrust she is still coming along. Maybe curiosity is overriding, or maybe she just doesn’t know what else to do.
As we walk, I can’t help all the questions that I should have already asked from spinning around in my mind.
Where have you been?
What have you been doing?
Did you know about the cure? Is it real?
But I was so shocked that I didn’t even think. Now I’m just hoping that we’ll get another moment alone, I hope nothing will happen to tear us apart again. I’m desperate for the opportunity and I hope all of this doesn’t ruin it.
My heart rate kicks up as we near. The noise has subsided slightly, but angry words can still be heard. My stomach lurches as I see the crushed, beaten body of the guy who came to deliver the “news” on the floor, among other bodies in a similar state. He looks as if he’s been torn apart by animals and I can’t believe the people I’ve been existing alongside did this to him. It may be a build-up of all of their anger and frustration, exploding in one ball of rage, but as far as I’m concerned, that doesn’t exclude anything. Murder is unacceptable behaviour—more so now than ever before. Now, when there are so few of us left. Can no one else see that?
I can’t believe what’s happening in front of me; fighting, yelling, running…
For a split second, I think I see a face I recognise, but it’s gone so quickly that I can’t even begin to place it.
“Come on.” Tom pulls us both away, clearly seeing that our initial reaction to get out of the firing line was the right one. I think he just needed to see it for himself, to confirm his worst fears. “There’s nothing that can be done here right now.”
“Wait, we aren’t going to help?” I ask, nervousness tinting my voice.
“Trust me, when things are this bad, there isn’t any point. These people need information, and right now I just don’t have enough…”
“So, where are we going?” I interrupt.
“I—I didn’t come here by myself. My colleague is out getting the information. We need to find him so we can sort all of this mess out.” He looks distracted, the heavy burden of this weighing him down.
Jasmine flicks an untrusting glance at me. I try to telepathically explain that it’s going to be okay, that Tom is one of the good guys, but I can’t. I am sure that he’ll lead us in the right direction, even though I have no real reason to believe that, and there’s just no way to convey that—particularly not wordlessly.
So we follow, all the while I’m growing increasingly uneasy about this other person Tom mentioned. This is someone else who worked for them, someone I don’t know. I just hope that whoever this person is they can be trusted. I don’t know why I’m already so doubtful, why I have this bad feeling, I just do.
I suddenly notice that we’re heading back towards the woodlands. I’d been so distracted by my thoughts and fears that I hadn’t paid any attention. This can only mean one thing, that we’re going to end up at the derelict building we hid behind the last time it all went wrong and my gut instinct is repelled by this idea. I don’t want to go there, not one bit, and I can’t really explain why—even to myself.
“Wait,” I announce in a wobbly tone, stopping suddenly.
Tom and Jasmine turn to face me, looking curiously at my strange expression. I internally debate about what I’m considering. Is this the right thing to do? I know that it’s the only thing that will stop them from carrying on, and if I really think about it, this is the two people I actually trust and care about in this nightmare.
I don’t know if I really have any other choice.
But what if it all goes wrong?
I gulp, trying not to think any further. It’s now or never. I pull the book out from under my top—where I’ve had it hidden for a while, tucked into the waistband of my jeans—and hand it sheepishly to Tom, hoping he’ll know what to do for the best.
“Where did you get this?” he asks sharply.
“I—I found it,” I answer, my heart thumping so loud that it takes me a few moments to realise that he asked where I got it, not what it is. “You’ve seen this before.” It isn’t a question. I already know that the nod is coming before it does. “Who does it belong to?”
“Dr. Jones,” he whispers, reading through the pages, his eyes widening at every word.
Jasmine’s eyes flick between us, utterly bewildered. I mouth the word “sorry” at her, mentally planning to explain everything to her later. Now, with her acting more like herself and Tom around, I feel much more confident in telling her everything. I can’t see any argument in keeping this to myself any longer. There’s no point anymore.
“Who…?” I start.
“Why are half the pages ripped out?” He sounds angry, and I understand. I find it frustrating too.
“I found it like that.”
Tom’s expression hardens and I lean to over to read what he’s looking at.
I won’t consider her a specimen, whatever happens to me now. The smirking bastard that bought her in, deeming her that can just…fuck off. I refuse to play to their shit anymore. This is too far, this is much too far. No one could tolerate this. This is beyond…
Where’s Melody? Oh dear God. Melody. I hope they haven’t done this to you too. Would they? No. But of course they would. I know that. Deep down, I’ve now seen enough to know that no one is safe, not even an innocent five-year-old girl. I can’t cry anymore.
I know the part he’s reading—the bit where the writer, Dr. Jones, discusses the people in charge doing terrible things to his wife. Including infecting her. I skipped over most of it as I was reading, telling myself that it was just ramblings, that the guy must have been losing it by that point. I didn’t want to believe the words written down; they were too horrific to think about. I was still desperately hoping there was some good in the people running this place.
“Who else has seen this?” He grabs on to my arm, demanding answers right away. The expression on his face is terrifying. I freeze, fear rushing through me.
“No-no one,” I stutter, trying to pull my arm away.
His hand loosens, freeing me as relief plasters on his face. “I don’t know what yet, but something bad has been going on here…”
“You mean aside from all of that shit?” Jasmine answers, sounding bitter and terrified all at once.
“All of that is not the worst thing we have to worry about. Not by a longshot, judging by what’s written in here.”
“Well, where have you been? What do you know about all of this?” I pipe up. Whatever direction we’re going now, I need the full picture. I can’t keep all of my confusion in for a second longer. I need to know the truth; I have to know how involved he really is.
“I haven’t been here. I’ve been in the UK. I was sent with a team to get rid of the remaining infected, to make it habitable again.”
So that was real, they were trying to get us home!
“So, is it?” Jasmine pleads. I feel as desperate as she does.
“It…it will be.” Tom sounds resigned, almost afraid.
“So why are you back?”
“I…have other business.” He’s lying, I know he is. I just don’t know why. I eye him suspiciously as he continues. “Look, something has happened here. Something massive. I need to know what. I need to find out Dr. Jones.”
“He’s probably dead,” I say bitterly, wanting a reaction, wanting him to tell me more. “He ran away as he dropped this.”
“That might not have been him.” He sighs deeply. I furrow my brows. How does he know who had the book? He just said that he wasn’t here. This is all juts so…weird. “Were there any children? Where you were? After the shit went down?”
“Erm…yeah, I saw a couple.”
“Any young girls? About five, maybe six years old? Did you catch any of their names?”
“Why?” Jasmine demands.
“Because if they’ve hurt Dr. Jones’s daughter…”
“I don’t mean to sound cruel or cold or whatever…but wouldn’t we be better off finding Dr. Jones? If he’s found a cure, surely…” I intervene.
“A cure?” Jasmine asks.
I flick through the pages and allow Tom and Jasmine to read the page.
“So those fuckers have a cure now?” Jasmine almost yells. “Why haven’t we had it?”
“We will.” Tom sounds determined. “We will. Then we’ll get the fuck out of here.”
“Home?” Jasmine whispers hopefully. I try to gauge Tom’s reaction. This is the area where he was lying—I’m certain of it. He nods slowly, thoughtfully. It just isn’t quite enough to have me convinced.
