Just as I was about to turn the TV off the information scrolling across the bottom of the picture was updated.
It now read:
"American scientists confirm virus is a multi-resistant virus or ‘super bug’. They have named it the Oz Virus."
Apparently things were getting worse.
Breaking News: The Oz Virus
4:08pm - The World Health Organization has declared a Phase 4 PANDEMIC alert. Phase 4 = multiple cases reported and human to human transmission of virus has been confirmed.
5:16pm - Reports of multiple deaths within the Woomera Immigration Centre
6:32pm – A military force made up of Australian and American troops have set up a 10km quarantine around the detention centre.
7:02Pm - The township of Woomera is also under strict quarantine. No one is allowed to leave. No one is allowed to enter.
7:21pm - Scientist declare Oz Virus extremely dangerous and recommend national quarantine.
I was glued to the TV for another five hours. The constant updates were progressively getting worse and worse. I wasn’t really afraid at this point in time, just curious. Maybe I should've been more worried about the deadly virus and the military force and the quarantine but who could’ve known it was the humble beginnings of an all out apocalypse? Who even thinks like that?
It was nearly midnight before I noticed a note from my mother on the kitchen bench. It read:
Working night shift. Dinner is in the freezer.
Love you.
I looked back at the TV. There was a bright flash and then the live image went black.
On Wednesday a nationwide quarantine was announced. All flights in and out of the country were cancelled. Travel between different states was also banned. According to the news this was a first in Australian history and even in the days of small pox and the bubonic plague, such measures had never been taken. By midday there were police cars patrolling the streets urging everyone to stay indoors. On TV and radio there were public health announcements telling everyone to wash their hands regularly and to cover their mouth when coughing and sneezing.
Later that afternoon the government announced a 10pm curfew. Anyone found outside their homes after ten would be arrested on site. Zero tolerance.
On Wednesday night my mother called me to tell me she had to work overtime again at the hospital and that she wouldn’t be home. There was spaghetti bolognaise in the freezer.
Defrost. Eat.
The week dragged on and boredom set in. There was nothing to do except watch the TV and wait for the paranoia and cabin fever to take over. I’d lost track of how many hours of TV I had watched. One particular news segment showed a panel of scientists and doctors discussing the basic definition of a virus.
Scientist number one said, "A virus is a microscopic organism that replicates within a living host."
You could tell the journalist doing the interview wasn’t really paying attention. But the panel was made up of professional nerds and hardcore academics and the discussion was getting pretty fired up.
Scientist number two said, "I think we are on the brink of a major viral outbreak. A virus much worse than the black plague. A virus that will wipe out a significant percentage of the global population."
"Not a chance in the world," another Doctor replied. "We have medicines and vaccines now days. They didn’t have any of that back then."
"That’s part of the problem. Viruses have an amazing ability to adapt and survive."
"How bad could it be?"
"Worst case scenario is the virus mutates. An aggressive virus will kill its host. But a successful one will allow its host to stay alive."
"Why would it do that?"
"So it can spread."
"Let me get this straight. You’re talking about a virus that will evolve and mutate into something we’ve never seen before, something that we can’t cure or immunize against?"
"Yes. I’m talking about a virus that will kill quickly and spread even quicker. It will find a way to live and multiply inside the host body for a long time. Even after death."
Chapter 3
On Friday, after two straight days of wearing my pajamas and not showering, Maria called me to tell me about a party she was throwing that night.
"What about the curfew?" I asked.
"Screw the curfew. The cops aren’t even patrolling the streets anymore."
She was right. I hadn’t heard any sirens or loudspeaker warnings in at least a day.
"Jack can pick you up on the way," she said.
"What about your parents?"
"My parents are away on business. They’re in France or somewhere. I have the house to myself. My aunt has been coming over to check up on me but I told her to stop stressing. If we’re real quiet we can go down the back to the beach."
Maria’s family was ridiculously rich. Her father was a big time business guru. He made his money through computers or real estate or advertising or maybe a combination of all three. I can't remember what Jack told me. But it was obvious by the size of their house he was in some serious cash. The house was located on the northern side of Sydney Harbor. It was a four level mansion with amazing views of the bridge and the opera house and the entire Sydney skyline. They even had their own private beach down the back of their property.
"It’s just a party," Maria said. "So what if there’s a curfew? Everyone can sleep over if they want. We’ve got plenty of spare beds."
"All right, you twisted my arm. But if I get in trouble, I’m blaming it all on you and your intense peer pressure."
"Deal. See you soon."
As I hung up the phone there was a knock at the door. I looked through the window and expected to see Jack but I saw some other guy standing there instead. It definitely wasn’t Jack but for some reason this guy looked familiar. He kept checking over his shoulder, shifting his weight, like he was nervous. He was wearing military fatigues. I couldn’t quite read the name on his jacket but then he turned around and a jolt of recognition shot through my body.
It was Kenji.
I immediately crouched and hid behind the door. What the hell was he doing here?
He knocked on the door again. The door shook with loud, urgent thumps.
"Rebecca?"
He knocked again. "Rebecca, it’s Kenji. I know you’re in there."
How? How does he know I'm in here? Has he been being spying on me?
"Go away!" I finally said.
"Rebecca! Please! I need to talk to you. I need to tell you something."
"It's a bit late for that, you jerk. What are you even doing here? Aren't you supposed to be on tour in the Middle East or something, being all that you can be?"
"The Marine’s motto is Semper Fi."
"Whatever."
"Look, that's part of the reason why I'm here," he said. "Please Bec, it's important."
"Don't call me Bec."
I stood slowly and turned to face the door.
Although there was part of me that wanted to slap him in the face, there was a part of me that wanted everything to go back to the way it was, to close this huge divide between us. Either way, I needed to get this over with.
I hesitated for a split second before I finally opened the door. Kenji smiled. Apart from the uniform and the short hair he looked like the same old Kenji. He had grown quite a few inches since I last saw him and he was leaner but he still had the same friendly face. He opened his arms to hug me but I took a step back. I wasn’t ready for that.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"I needed to find you. I..."
"What the hell for?"
"I’ve come to warn you."
"Warn me? About what?"
"We we’re re-deployed from Afghanistan to help with the quarantine. But I left... I deserted my post."
"Left without notice again, huh?"
"Look, this is serious."
"Yeah I bet. Can't you get court marshaled for desertion?"
"I had to leave. I had to warn you. It’s starting to get out of control."
I should’ve let him explain. But I was too angry. Suddenly that anger I’d been suppressing for two years bubbled its way to the surface of my being.
"You just left!" I shouted. "You didn’t even tell me you were leaving. No goodbye, no note. Nothing! What do you want me to say? How did you expect me to react?"
I'd started yelling without realizing and this was making Kenji uncomfortable.
"Can I come inside? I'll explain everything."
"No you can't. I think it’s best if you leave."
"Please, Rebecca. It’s not safe here."
I slammed the door in his face because he just wasn't listening and I didn’t want him to see me cry.
"OK, fine I'll leave. Just promise me one thing," he said through the door. "Promise me you’ll unfold the horse I left on your kitchen bench."
"Why? What for? How the hell did you break into my house anyway?"
But he didn’t answer. I peered through the window. He was gone.
I collapsed on the floor. My heart was racing. It had been two years since he left without saying goodbye but it felt longer than that.
I remember the first time we met. I was going through a rough time after my father was reported missing. For days I cried. For days I thought it was some kind of mistake and that he’d be sent home. I was in complete denial.
My mother eventually decided to send me to a doctor because I had totally shut myself off from the world. I had no friends, no social life. I stayed in my room all day and all night. I was hurt. It felt like I was dying inside.
That’s when Kenji moved in next door. He basically saved me. I was sitting in the gutter out the front of my house. He was kicking a soccer ball around. He came up to me and asked me if I liked soccer.
"Not really," I said. "But I like David Beckham."
And just like that we became friends. We used to stay up all night watching movies. We would camp out in his back yard and scare each other with ghost stories.
He was like no boy I’d ever met. He was funny and cute but he wasn’t up himself like other guys I knew. He was this weird mix of a complete nerd and a total action hero. On the one hand he liked comic books and Star Wars but on the other hand he had a black belt in just about every martial art I'd ever heard of. I think it was because his father was a real traditionalist and insisted that Kenji become proficient in all aspects of Japanese culture including the martial arts. As a result Kenji used to teach me all kinds of cool stuff like Karate and Jujitsu. They had a huge basement underneath their house that looked like an old Japanese training hall. I swear it was like stepping back in time to feudal Japan.
They even had a small shooting range where they would practice firing the bow and arrow and even guns. I asked Kenji once why they had a shooting range in their basement and if it was even legal. He told me he wasn’t sure of it was legal but the reason they had built one was because the bow and arrow was a big part of Samurai culture. And the rifle was just a new and improved version of that. The principles were the same. The breathing, the concentration. It was like an active form of meditation if you did it right.
He even taught me how to shoot a gun. I wasn’t strong enough to use the bow and arrow properly but I was a decent shot with the rifle. His father didn’t approve of me at all. But Kenji would always convince him to let me stay. I think he would tell his father that teaching me helped him remember all the stuff that he had been taught over the years. His father would always reluctantly agree.
The best part about learning all this stuff and hanging out with Kenji was that it helped me take my mind of the possibility that my father was never coming home. It really was like an active form of meditation.
The more we hung out, the more I started to fall for Kenji. I didn’t think I could ever get close to another person after I’d been hurt so badly. But Kenji was just so amazing.
And then he left. He just vanished.
Shortly after that, my mother and I moved out to Australia to start a new life. She told me it would be good for us both, that it would be an adventure. I knew it was painful for her as well.
Now my old life was coming back to haunt me, opening old wounds, digging up long buried feelings.
I picked myself up off the floor and wiped the tears off my face. I walked into my room and unfolded the origami horse. Sure enough there was a note written inside.
Dear Rebecca,
I’m sorry for what I did. I know you don't trust me anymore but you must believe me when I say everyone is in danger right now. I will come for you.
-Kenji
Chapter 4
Five minutes later, Jack arrived to pick me up. He tried talking to me on the drive to Maria’s house but I was miles away.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Huh?"
"Are you all right? You’re pretty quiet over there, Bec."
"Please don't call me Bec." I hated when anyone called me Bec because that’s what my dad used to call me. And Kenji.
