Lockdown (AM13 Outbreak Series) (6 page)

Chapter Ten

I unwillingly continue to go into work every single day, however much my mind screams at me not to. I’m so unbearably paranoid that everyone hates me I can barely look at anyone, never mind make conversation.

When things get too difficult I keep telling myself that at least I’m doing the right thing. At least I’m being brave and facing the music. If I’d hidden away whilst everyone else came to work, then I’d never be able to return. I’d absolutely have to find another job. So, by being here I’m doing the decent thing.

This mantra isn’t really working, no matter how many times I repeat it to myself, but I don’t have anything better, so I’m sticking with it.

If I’m
really
honest, the day Jamie announced the quarantine date, I went home filled with determination and rang my mum. I told her I was catching the next train, that nothing would keep me away from my family in this difficult time. I told her they were far more important than my job.

Her response?

“Oh, don’t worry, dear, it’ll be fine. It’s only a precaution and we’re happy to be in for a few days. It won’t really change our routine that drastically. There’s bound to be loads of good television to watch, and we’ll stock up on magazines. Plus Felix is here anyway.”

I was so angry at her when I hung up. How could she be so inconsiderate? If this all turns out to be the truth, then she might never see me again! What if I turned out to be one of the people that contracted the virus? It’s fatal, so she’d never see me again.

As soon as I calmed down, I realised she was just taking the same level-headed approach to it as me. Of course she’s treating it as any other health warning media scare—that’s all it is. My reaction was more to do with my own difficult emotions than it was to do with her.

So, instead, I’m just working on getting through each day. The marketing team has come up with the super clever—not!—term
‘Countdown to Lockdown’
, so a lot of my effort is going towards not having a meltdown every time I see the days ticking down. I might not be contributing a lot work-wise, but that doesn’t seem to matter. Especially not now that I’m the face of it all.

Jamie made the quite frankly mad decision to use my face when reporting the news. Apparently it’s to give the story a human element, without showing any victims and gore. This is particularly useful at times of the day when children might be watching the television. Thankfully, he let me pose for a new photo, which has replaced the hideous one used before. I even had proper makeup and my hair done by professionals. I’m sure, in my normal state of mind, I’d have been terribly excited about the whole thing.

It’s ironic that all I wanted was a decent career and to be someone important. Doesn’t everyone dream of making an impact on the planet in some small way? That dream has pretty much come true for me, and I’m the most miserable I’ve ever been. I guess I can’t enjoy even a single moment of it because I’m just waiting for it all to come back around and bite me on the arse.

At moments when I particularly loathe myself, I look up online reactions to the news story. It doesn’t escape my notice that #AM13 is now trending on every social media website. Although the stories linked to it are much more focused on the Lockdown and the implications of that than on the virus. I’m glad about this—at least this proves it’s only the online nutters and the people that have a bank balance depending on it that are showing any real belief in it.

The promise of extra money has everyone here in a fantastic mood—they’re all working harder than ever before. I’m sure Jamie is riding this wave of positive thinking as much as he can, knowing the following weeks are going to be tough. I occasionally plaster a fake smile on my face just to fit in, but really I’m on a knife edge.

I keep my opinions to myself. I don’t even discuss them with Michelle. Every now and again, someone will yell out a positive story about us online for everyone else to hear. They never seem to mention the negative ones I keep seeing, but then again, bringing morale down won’t do anyone any favours right now.

Today, we are focusing our news show on new science research from Mexico containing theories as to why this has happened, and how it’s been allowed to get so out of control. I can’t help but think this sounds more like scare tactics than anything else. As far as I know, not one person has seen a real victim or attack, so how this is ‘out of control’ yet is beyond me. We must have used up every resource and angle for signs to look out for over the last few days, so are trying something new to keep it fresh and exciting.

As we draw nearer to the Lockdown date, the plans get more complex and involved. I keep expecting it to be cancelled. I’m still waiting for it all to fall apart. It’s almost as if I’m sucking in a breath and I can’t let it out until all of this has finished.

Just a few more days to hold it together. Just a few more days until one way or another, I’ll have a conclusion. Right now, whatever the outcome is, it’s got to be better than all of this damn waiting.

Chapter

Eleven

More days pass in a blur. I feel as if I’ve been shoved in the middle of one of those film scenes where I simply sit in my desk chair, motionless, while everyone else whizzes around me, chatting animatedly and busily sorting everything out. I’m dizzy with it all. The announcements have been coming in thick and fast, and we’re always the first ones to receive them, which I find terrifying. Maybe I should be excited by it all, but I’m still numb. I can’t remember the last time I
really
felt anything.

“Don’t forget to register for food supplies now.”

“Anyone with health concerns must immediately get themselves to the hospital.”

“Be careful when out in public, it can be dangerous.”

The instructions are plastered everywhere—on television constantly, on billboards, online—it would be impossible
not
to know what’s happening now. Despite this, I
still
can’t see how they’re going to pull it all off. There are sick people out everywhere that haven’t gone to the hospital. People aren’t reporting every sniff and moment of tiredness like they’re supposed to. I guess like everything bad, people never think it’ll happen to them. I’ve heard the hotlines set up to report the virus are a constant stream of prank calls—so that backfired badly. I don’t think everyone in this office realises that people see this as a joke, an annoyance. Maybe if the others spent as much time on social media as I do, they would know this. There
has
to be a reason they’re all turning a blind eye.

I want to stand up and yell at everyone. I want to scream
‘where’s the proof?’
but I don’t. I wish I could pluck up the courage to ask why they’re so convinced by the few silly video clips that have been circulated. I want to tell them that even if they
are
so quick to believe, then why haven’t they noticed none of them are based in the UK? I want to say
‘what if the virus is real, but it hasn’t reached here yet?’
What if we go through the quarantine just to suffer through the infection afterwards? I want to ask them all why none of the ‘experts’ that have been featured on the news have mentioned an answer—a cure, an antidote, anything. Surely that would be the real key to our freedom.

Instead I stay silent, wondering if I’m being a coward. I wanted to avoid that so much, yet I fear that’s what I’ve become.

Was I always a coward? I don’t really know. I’ve never encountered a situation that’s required me to be brave before. I’ve always led a quiet, straightforward life. I was popular enough never to encounter any meanness in school, I sailed through my education without much hassle, I’ve never been required to do anything difficult at work, I’ve never had to deal with loss or heartbreak. All in all, I’ve had a very lucky—but also, now I’m looking back, pretty boring—life. Maybe if I’d suffered more hardships, I’d be more equipped to deal with all of this right now. Maybe if I’d been through disappointment, resentment, pain, then I’d know the best course of action to take.

***

And then, the day before the Lockdown comes around. If I’d expected something to happen, if I thought I’d find some inner strength to do what needs to be done, then I was wrong. I’m still exactly the same old me. Since the beginning of this, I’ve allowed this to snowball because I haven’t done anything to stop it. That quality—if I can call it that—hasn’t changed.

I sit in the morning meeting, shame washing all over me. There’s no time now, it’s too late. Or is that just another excuse? Either way I know for a fact that I’m not going to challenge anything.

“Okay everyone…” Jamie smiles far too brightly as he talks. “Tomorrow is the day. You’ll need to get your bags packed tonight and be here bright and early in the morning. You’ve already seen the beds we’ve set up in the canteen—I know it isn’t ideal, but it’s all for a good cause.” He pauses for a second, almost as if he’s expecting laughter. “We’ll be here for a fortnight at most, so we have the facilities for that length of time. I don’t think I need to discuss respect and boundaries with you all while we’re here—we’re all adults, after all.” He indicates round the room to us all. I see a lot of glances exchanged between the others. “So, any questions?”

Everyone’s hand seems to rise at the same time and questions fire out from every direction. I slowly tune everyone out and my thoughts return to my family. I make a snap decision that as soon as all of this is over, I’m going to take some holiday and go see them—whether I’m wanted or not. It suddenly feels like the last six months since I’ve visited have been forever. I would give anything right now to see their friendly faces…

***

I let out a high sigh as I walk through the door of my flat that evening. I glance around at all of my belongings, wondering when I’ll see them again. Then it hits me these things aren’t vital. I’ve never been particularly materialistic, but now is the very time to push these thoughts out of my brain forever. Now is the time to focus on exactly what’s important.

I pick up the phone and quickly dial my mum’s number. I want to talk to her without the tension we had before. I want to go into this quarantine on good terms with everyone. As I listen to her chatter away, I can’t help but smile. Normally I’d be hurrying her along; too busy to listen. Usually I’d spend most of the conversation moaning about my silly problems. I guess I can add selfish to the list of faults I’m now realising. Once all of this is over, that’s something I’ll definitely address.

After we hang up over an hour later, I ring my cousin Ethan, without even considering it. He doesn’t live too far from my parents, so maybe after I’ve visited them, I’ll go to see him too. We were always close as kids—he’s a similar age to me, so I was closer to him than my brother—but as we grew up, we sort of drifted apart.

Okay, in the spirit of being honest, I stopped hanging out with him. He was always a little weird—he’d get really obsessed with things, like germs and cleaning. This was always there, but it became increasingly noticeable as he hit puberty. When we reached high school, my new friends thought he was geeky and mocked him constantly. I should have stood up for him, but I didn’t. I should have supported him in what I can clearly see now was a difficult time for him, but again I thought only of myself. Even as adults, it’s been difficult to get our relationship back after that.

I’m over the moon to hear how well his life is going. He has a great job and a fiancée. I can’t believe the person I used to spend every moment of my days with has been engaged for months and I haven’t even met her. Emotion rolls over me and tears stream down my cheeks.

“I’ll come and see you soon!” I promise.

“Sure, okay,” he says sullenly. I don’t know why, but it feels like he’s saying goodbye to me forever. I want to reassure him, to tell him it’s all going to be all right, but I wouldn’t know where to begin. Plus, he’s already hung up anyway.

Although, deep,
deep
down, in the place where I hide all my secrets and problems I don’t want to face, I know that’s not what I believe at all. The hollow feeling in my chest tells me I kind of think that tomorrow really
is
the end of everything. Maybe not the end for everyone—more just for me. Maybe this feeling is all to do with the fact that after tomorrow, my life is going to be in tatters and no one will want to know me anymore.

Just before I head to bed I realise I haven’t yet packed my suitcase for the Lockdown. I grab a few things haphazardly and toss them into a bag. “It’s only going to be for a few days,” I murmur. If I convince myself that as soon as everyone is inside, they’ll realise what a mistake they’ve made and let everyone out again, I
might
just survive this without going insane.

So, with that in mind, it really doesn’t matter what I take with me. I don’t even care what I’ll look like when I’m there. I just grab the first clothes I find and a couple of books. It isn’t exactly like I’m going to worry about impressing my co-workers. Not even Jake.

I’m quite pleased with my casual attitude as I lay in bed. I feel like by taking such a slack attitude towards it all, I’m doing something positive. But then, just as I’m about to drift off, I jump up with my heart pounding. My hair straighteners! I need to pack those; I won’t be able to last without them…

No, it doesn’t matter. I can cope for a few bloody days without worrying about my hair. But as I try to resettle, I’m suddenly not as comfortable or tired. I know what’s bothering me, but I refuse to give in. I’m just going to squeeze my eyes shut and rest…

But after fifteen minutes of tossing and turning, I surrender. Maybe this whole casual attitude towards packing is stupid. I get out of bed and empty my suitcase and start again, beginning with those damn hair straighteners.