The Sixth Level (2 page)

After the interview I was mad. I was furious. I was seeing red. And I guess I wasn't thinking straight.

I'd been stewing for two days, alone, in the penthouse suite.

So I came up with a plan. A crazy, stupid plan.

I sat down in front of the laptop. I turned the webcam on and made eye contact with the little lens built into the computer monitor.

I pressed record and took a deep breath. "My name is Rebecca Robinson," I whispered. "I am a survivor of the Australian Apocalypse, the so called Secret Apocalypse. I don’t quite know how to say this... it’s just so messed up."

I coughed and choked. And for a second I thought I was going to break down in tears but I held myself together.

"I want to tell you everything. Everything that happened to me and my friends but I’m not sure where to begin."

I thought about the massacre at the bridge, Doctor West’s chilling confession about how they tested on refugees. But I held my tongue, telling everyone all this right now would do more harm than good. The PR guy was right. It probably would cause riots and protests and more chaos. I didn't want any more violence. I didn't want any more deaths.

The military didn’t need to be vilified. Because right now, there was still hope. They were the only ones who could save Maria; they could still fix this thing.

God, I hope they could fix this thing.

"The interview I gave two days ago wasn’t completely accurate," I continued. "The Oz Virus. It’s bad. It’s worse than anyone can imagine. The military forces, the Australian government and authorities couldn’t contain it. They couldn’t stop it. The virus is too fast and there is no cure. At least, not yet."

My eyes filled with tears as I thought about Maria and what she meant to the world. And what she would need to sacrifice in the near future.

"I’m going to tell you just how bad it is down there. You
need to know this. There’s no point in sugar coating it. There’s no point in hiding the truth. There’s no point in lying. You need to know that in less than two weeks, the Oz virus spread right around Australia. You need to know that once a person becomes infected with the virus they turn. They change. I told reporters at the airport I thought they were zombies because that was just the easiest way to describe them and that’s genuinely what they look like. You need to know this. You need to know that twenty-two million people are dead because of the Oz virus. And if it gets out, if it spreads beyond the borders of Australia, you need to know that it will be game over for the rest of the world."

As I was describing the virus an apocalyptic image of the world inhabited by the infected flashed through my mind and a cold shiver ran down my spine.

"
But most importantly you need to know that
I’m not the only survivor. There are four others. They are my friends. And if it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t be here."

I swallowed some excess saliva and ran my hand over my scalp.

"Kim Richards escaped with me. She's recovering from a bullet wound to her arm in a quarantine facility in New Zealand. Private Kenji Yoshida of the United States Marines also survived. He is hiding in a building in the middle of Sydney with Jack Richards and Maria Marsh. They didn't make it to New Zealand but they are alive. They are not infected. But they are surrounded by the infected. Two days ago we heard a radio transmission, an S.O.S from Kenji. The transmission said that they are alive and that they have Maria Marsh."

I paused and took the time to choose my words. "They have Maria Marsh," I repeated. "This is important. It’s important because Maria is immune to the virus. Maybe the only person in the world who is immune. If the military can get back into Sydney, they could save her; they could create an anti-virus and stop this plague before it spreads to the rest of the world.

"I’m telling you this not to scare you but to inform you. We need to work together to fix this. There is still hope."

I wanted to say something else, something cool like ‘may the force be with you’ or ‘the power is yours’. But I couldn't think of anything. So I ended it there.

I posted the clip on YouTube. It went viral so to speak and spread around the world from computer to computer as fast as the Oz virus spread from person to person. The video was only online for forty-five minutes. But in that time it generated over two million views. It was my confession, I guess.

I realized I was probably going to get in some serious trouble but
I no longer cared what happened to myself. I no longer care if I lived or died. That was not important. The only thing that mattered was Maria. And the truth.

People didn't need misinformation, they didn't need someone to tell them it would be all right, that it was all a bad dream. They needed the cold, dirty, horrifying truth.

Forty-five minutes after I posted the video online it was taken down.

And then five minutes after that, the soldiers were at my door.

Chapter 1

T
hey also assigned me a ‘personal bodyguard’. They said it was for my protection. Apparently after the interview and the YouTube clip I’d become a bit of a celebrity. Kids all over and girls especially had started shaving their heads and were posting their own confessions online. In some circles I was even a bit infamous. Certain religious cults thought I was a demon and that I had caused the apocalypse, that I was the bringer of Judgment Day.

But I knew the real reason why the military had assigned me a bodyguard. He was there to keep an eye on me. To make sure I didn’t do any more stupid stunts.
They wanted to keep me quiet. Not about the actual Oz virus but about the lengths the military went to contain the spread of infection.

When they introduced me to the bodyguard, they built him up like he was some sort of superhero. The PR guy was there making sure we all shook hands and got along. His hair was slicked back with a bucket of hair gel or maybe even children's tears. OK, maybe that's going a bit far. But it would not have surprised me if that's what he used to style his hair with, if you could even call it styling.

The PR guy motioned for us to shake hands. "This is Daniel Hudson," he said. "He's served in the navy and with Special Forces all over the world. He has the medal of honor, awarded to him for going above and beyond the call of duty. At nineteen years of age, he is one of youngest soldiers to ever receive the medal. He’s one of the world’s greatest warriors."

The PR guy left the room so we could get to know one another.

I looked him up and down. "One of the world’s greatest warriors, huh?"

Daniel was scratching the back of his head, watching the PR guy as he left the room. "Uh, apparently. Man, that guy wears a lot of cologne."

"Yeah, tell me about it," I said. "So how'd you score this job? You must've drawn the short straw or something."

"Hey, this is a pretty important gig. You know a lot. And knowledge is power. Therefore, you’re one powerful girl."

He took me by surprise with that answer. But then again maybe he had been told to say that if I asked. Maybe he was just following a script.

Daniel was a typical soldier I guess. He was fit, strong. Not overly muscular like you see in the action movies. He was built more like a tri-athlete than a Sylvester Stallone or an Arnold Schwarzenegger. He had shaggy, dark blonde hair and he walked very upright, like he was always marching or standing at attention.

But apart from the fact he was easy on the eyes; the best thing about him was he had a relaxed sense of humor. He was an easy going kind of guy. He sort of reminded me of Jack in that sense.

For the first two days he didn’t say much. And we didn’t leave the penthouse suite. Then I started to get restless. I hadn't been able to sleep much and even though the penthouse was huge, I felt like I was suffocating. I needed to get out. To my surprise, Daniel agreed. So we went out to the movies, out to restaurants and diners.

In a weird way, it was kind of like we were dating. The movies were good. They kept me distracted and occupied. Especially the movie marathon sessions that went all night. My favorite was the ‘Jackass’ series. We originally went to see the ‘Matrix’ trilogy but I freaked out when people started dying, when Morpheus tells Neo that the skies had been scorched and people had been reduced to batteries. So we left that session and snuck into the ‘Jackass’ marathon. That was much better. Completely and perfectly stupid and ridiculous.

During the week, whenever we went out Daniel used everything he had learnt during his time in the Special Forces to avoid the paparazzi. The photographers were always hanging around out the front of the hotel, waiting to ambush me. The way they swarmed together reminded me of the infected. But thanks to Daniel, they never even knew whether we were coming or going. We were invisible, we were ghosts.

At certain times I felt guilty about enjoying myself. And whenever I was eating out at a nice restaurant I couldn’t help but wonder what my friends were eating, or if they had even found food or drinkable water. Then inevitably my thoughts would always turn to whether or not they were even alive.

It was easier not to think about it. To accept…

One particularly miserable night Daniel suggested we go out. It was raining heavily; it may have even been hailing. But he said this was the best time to make a move. The paparazzi won't be out in this weather. No one will be chasing us. And even if they were out in this weather, the visibility was so poor they won’t be able to see us. He told me it was a technique they used in the Special Forces. Bad weather was a good ally. It provided the perfect cover and concealment.

Towards the end of the week, I suggested we go to the shooting range because I felt like that would make me feel better or something. I dunno. But it use to help. Back when I was getting over the loss of my father, back when I use to spend time with Kenji and he would teach me all kinds of martial arts and cool stuff like shooting and how to fight with a knife. Weirdly enough, shooting became like an active form of meditation and recovery. And again, Daniel agreed without complaint to take me.

And he was impressed with my skills.

Best of all he didn't try and tell me I was doing it all wrong or that I needed to do it his way. He respected me. I guess he was taken by surprise that a sixteen year old girl could handle a gun and actually hit the target. I guess I was taken by surprise as well. I thought he was going to be a jerk. I thought he was going to be a bad guy like those men in black who had captured Maria and were authorized to use deadly force against the rest of us.

But he wasn’t. He was a good guy. A great guy.

And he knew I was struggling.

I'm not sure when it happened exactly, but after the interview and the YouTube incident I slowly began giving up on my friends. Well, maybe not giving up, it was more like I began accepting that I may never see them ever again. Those first few days back in civilization felt like an eternity.

Every second, every minute of waiting and not knowing was torture.

I was so confused. My emotions were all over the place. One minute I was over the top positive and infinitely hopeful. I was so sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt that my friends were alive. They were survivors; I knew that from experience, from the three days we spent on the run from the infected and the military, right in the heart of Sydney.

If they survived that, they could survive anything, right?

But then the next minute I would be down in the dumps. I’d be convinced they were done for. There was no way could they survive in that environment. No freakin way.

I guess trying to accept they were dead was easier for me. Less painful. The small hope that they were alive was driving me insane.
I had to be realistic. What chance did they have of surviving in the middle of Sydney when the military couldn't even survive there? And even if the men in black or the military did 'rescue' them what's stopping them from killing Jack and Kenji on the spot? What’s stopping the military from leaving them to rot or feeding them to the ever growing horde of the infected? What’s stopping them from cutting up Maria into tiny pieces to be studied from Petri dishes and test tubes? I had convinced myself there was no chance.

I felt so alone. I had no friends, no family. Did my mother make it out? Was she alive? Maybe they got all the nurses and doctors out on an aircraft carrier or something. But I knew the odds were not good. And even though I'd heard my friend’s voices just a couple of days ago, I couldn't be sure if they were still alive. I was such a mess inside.

So accepting their deaths and moving on or at least trying to move on was easier for me.

At that point in time I was glad the military had assigned me a bodyguard. Daniel was the only thing keeping me together. Hanging out with him made me feel normal, like I wasn't under house arrest, like my friends weren't dead and I wasn't the sole survivor of an apocalyptic virus.

One night I woke up at about 3am, screaming and drenched in a cold sweat. The damn sleeping pills they’d given me weren’t working. I went out to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and to up my dosage.