Lockdown (AM13 Outbreak Series) Read Online Free PDF

live? Has someone been murdered? I always thought my neighbours seemed like a weird couple, maybe not criminals, just a little off. Something I could never explain. I might get a good scoop here, something to justify me leaving work early. I’m just going to act casual, like I’ve been sent here to join in. We’re all professionals here, aren’t we?
    My steps slow down more and more the closer I get. I just don’t feel like a professional. I feel out of my depth, a fraud. A frightened mouse about to head into a group of hungry lions. I’ve never done research out in the real world before. That’s for the super confident journalists who don’t mind asking all the awkward questions. I’m much better suited to the safety of hiding behind my desk.
    “Hi.” I try to talk to one of the women at the back, to discreetly find out what’s going on without having to ask. She ignores me though. Everyone does. Before I get the chance to speak again, the guy I thought I recognised—Bill, maybe?—turns around and spots me.
    “Oh my God, it’s you!” he shouts so loudly that everyone else turns to face me. Suddenly Dictaphones and cameras are shoved in my face, and everyone is yelling questions at me at the same time.
    Everything starts to move in slow motion. I’m frozen in place. How can I tell them I’m not the one they want? I’m one of them, not the story.
    Zombie.
    Hoax.
    Failure.
    All these words are being thrown around me. As soon as I hear them, I feel the world around me shattering. It is me they want. This thought fills me with utter horror. It’s that paper, the story. Oh God, I don’t want to speak to them, and certainly not about that. How can these people honestly be interested in this?
    My brain begins to unfreeze and I instinctively focus on getting as far away from these prying eyes as possible. This is why journalism never truly suited me. I’m not into pressuring people for information—even less so now I know how it feels from the other side. The only thing I can think to do is run, but where? All I want is to go inside, and I have a right to be in my own flat. If I don’t do it now, I’ll only have to face them again later, so I decisively begin to push past them to get indoors. It feels like I’m trying to move brick walls, it’s almost impossible. No one wants to move to let me past. Why are they treating me this way? I’m going to have to say something, but I know most of the time that only makes things escalate.
    “No comment!” I yell. This always seems to work in films and I can’t think of anything else to say, but now I’ve spoken, the questions get louder and more insistent.
    Eventually I find my front door. Luckily I already have my key out, so as fast as I can, I push my way in and slam it shut.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
    I can still hear them outside. Pounding on the door. Shouting. It’s safe to say they’re definitely taking the side of the story I saw in the newspaper. I’m the idiot that has damaged our show and might lose everyone their jobs. Fan-bloody-tastic. The tears that threatened to start earlier stream down my face as I slump to the floor, right next to the door, just so I can torment myself a little longer by listening to all that’s being said.
    There really is no way this day could have gone any worse.
    After a while, I can hear the patter of raindrops falling outside. Luckily this is enough to get rid of the journalists. Fortunately none of them care about me enough to soak themselves to the bone. I take a moment to be grateful I’m not famous—that nightmare must be their lives twenty-four-seven. I definitely couldn’t do it, even for the lavish lifestyle that comes with it.
    With silence now surrounding me, I can calm down a bit. I pad slowly into the kitchen to grab myself a glass of wine to steady my nerves. My heart is pounding in my throat and I have no idea what to do. As if on autopilot, I switch on the TV in the way I