AM13 Outbreak Series (Book 2): Forgotten by Samie Sands Page B

I needed to do and I would be free from this hell. But courage never came to me. As desperate as I was to end it all, I wasn’t brave enough to even do that. I’m useless. I’m pathetic. I can’t do anything right.
    So I just keep on going, waiting for something, anything to happen to take the decision out of my hands.
    My OCD is definitely getting worse. Before all of this happened, I had been struggling with it, but it had been under control—now, it’s slowly becoming all consuming, infecting every single one of my thoughts and actions. It was going to get me killed eventually, I’m sure of it.
    I keep finding homes to hide in, just as I did before. There might not be any running water to clean myself with anymore, but I still feel safer inside, with four walls to keep them away from me. Not much safer, but it’ll have to do. It isn’t like I’m surrounded by options at any rate.
    Occasionally, I’ll eat. Often, I won’t. Usually, I have to be on the brink of starvation before I’ll allow myself to do so. These days, my doomsday voice is telling me—screaming at me—that AM13 is everywhere, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore it.
    “Don’t eat that — that’s where the virus is hidden.”
    “Don’t breathe too deeply — AM13 is airborne.”
    “Don’t touch anything; you’ll become infected in a second.”
    It’s actually becoming exhausting to listen to, and it’s increasingly getting louder and more insistent. I’m finding myself heading towards a place where I’ll be too afraid to even move. I know what it is, and I wish desperately that I could accept it for what it is and ignore what it’s telling me, but I just can’t . I’ve tried, I really have, but it gets me every damn time.
    Really, all I want to do now is go back to Clare. I want to be with her. That’s what I’m currently working towards, but I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to get there. It’s a situation that ends in certain death, which is why it’s going to take a whole lot for me to act upon my wish. For a coward, considering it for real is damn near impossible. But then again, if I’m going to die anyway, why not do it with the woman I love? And on my own terms at that.
    I step into a new home, flickering the lights on and off—even though they don’t work anymore. This tick has become intrinsically linked to my one bout of good luck, and now I can’t do without it.
    On, off.
    On, off.
    On, off.
    Then, instead of instantly racing from room to room, like I know I should, I sit quietly, peering out of the window, just waiting for someone to magically appear.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 24
     
     
    DR. JONES
     
    March 6 th
    10:50 a.m.
    I’ve just come out of a review meeting with the board members — the people in charge of this whole operation. Two things are now very clear to me. The first is that the writing of this report is absolutely useless. I’ve tried to keep it as professional as possible for them to read, which has been hard for me because I’ve always had an assistant to decipher my scruffy notes. They didn’t want to see any of my work; they weren’t interested in any of my progress. All they want are answers, solutions. I can understand why, I suppose — this is a desperate situation. But I have to do it this way; the process must be completed for a sensible conclusion to be drawn. This is how I’ve always worked; this is how I was trained. Answers don’t just jump out from mid-air.
    One of the men — the sneering one, I’m not sure of his name — suggested that I keep on making my ‘little notes’ for the next scientist to come and take over my work. He winked at me, making me feel sick to my stomach. This is when the second realisation hit.
    I’m not going to make it out of here alive. If I don’t solve this soon, they’re actually going to kill me. They didn’t say that, of course, but I’m smart enough to recognise when I’m being