As soon as I stepped off the plane at LAX I was pounced on by the media. The first thing that struck me was how little the rest of the world knew about what had happened. We lived in the information age. The age of satellite television, the internet, social networking and yet they barely knew the half of it.
Reporters and journalists shoved cameras and microphones in my face as I was rushed through the airport.
"Are the rumors true? Is there really a killer virus? Are people really coming back from the dead? Are people really turning into zombies?"
I don't know if they were zombies but I guess it was just easier to call them that. "Yeah," I said. "It was messed up."
"And yet somehow you survived. The only survivor of the entire Australian population."
"Yeah," I said because I was already starting to distance myself from the others and I honestly thought that Kim had died in New Zealand.
"How did you do it? What was it like knowing you couldn’t leave? Knowing there was no outside help allowed to come in?"
"It was awful," I said. "The most terrifying experience of my life."
The media storm was intense but I was glad for it. It meant that the military or whoever was trying to cover up the whole incident couldn't just come and take me away and do whatever they wanted to do. It also meant that I could tell the world what had happened down there.
I don’t know how long I’d locked myself in the bathroom for. I tend to lose track of time a lot now.
They were banging on the door.
"Rebecca, please let us in! We have something to tell you."
I think it’s the producer.
I look at the notepad in my lap. It’s completely full. Every page. The entire side of my right hand is covered in black ink.
"I don’t think I can do the interview," I say.
"Wait. Before you make any rash decisions I think you should listen to this."
She plays a recording through the bathroom door. It sends shivers down my spine. I hold my breath.
It was Kenji.
"Mayday! Mayday! If anyone is out there, we are survivors of the Oz Virus. We are not infected. Repeat, we are not infected. We are trapped in the middle of Sydney. We have a survivor here who has shown immunity to the virus. She may hold the key to a cure."
My heart skips a beat and almost explodes in my chest. They're alive.
I can hear whole bunch of static. I can hear running footsteps. And then I hear the screaming howl of the infected.
"Kenji! We have to go!" It was Jack.
I can hear Kenji’s ragged, frantic breathing. "If anyone is listening, Please send help. Please."
The recording ends abruptly.
I can't believe it. Somehow they’ve survived. Against all odds they’ve made it deeper into the city, to another hiding spot. At that moment I want to get back there.
"Rebecca, please," says Steve, the journalist. "This story is huge. We need you."
I stand up and open the bathroom door. The producer and the journalist look anxious, strung out. They look scared. It's as if hearing the recording, hearing all the screams of the infected has made everything more real. "I’ll do the interview," I say. "On one condition,"
"Anything you want. Name your price."
"I don't want money. I want you to get me back to Australia."
"What? You want to go back?"
"That's right."
"Why?"
"I need to get my friends."
"We can’t make that deal," says the producer. "You know we can’t."
"As soon as I do this interview, as soon as the world hears that transmission, there’ll be a rescue mission organized. I want to be part of that rescue mission."
I can't believe the words coming out of my mouth. Who do I think I am? I'm not Rambo. I'm not Superman. I have no idea what good I’d be on a rescue mission. I’d probably just get in the way. But I feel like I should be with my friends. It feels weird that I'm the only one who made it out. I sort of feel guilty, like I have abandoned them or betrayed them.
I convince myself that I need to get back there, that it's the only way to make things right. I’ll do the interview and blow this thing, this secret apocalypse wide open. And then I’ll do everything I possibly can to help them. And if that means flying right back into the living hell that is now Sydney, then so be it.
There’s no place I’d rather be.
###
