When We Ran: Lea's Story

Chapter Seven

About fifteen minutes after we started walking, someone slams into the back of me, almost knocking me down. Before I can get a good look at the person who ran into me, they sprint ahead of us, pushing through the crowd.

"What the fuck?" I yell after them.

Skye rubs my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I say.

A second later, screams echo in the distance and more people run past us. That sends everyone into a panic and we all start running. People scream, others trip and fall only to be trampled on. Suzi, Skye and I stick together as we weave in and out of the abandoned cars, not looking back for fear of seeing whatever it is we're fleeing.

The crowd bottlenecks at the end of the street, pushing and shoving like we're in a mosh pit at a rock concert. The eerie silence form earlier has been replaced with panicked chatter. Every now and then, someone yells something in protest, demanding the sea of people keep moving. The longer we're all stuck here, the more dangerous it's going to get. Suzi, who is almost six feet tall, stands on the tips of her toes to see what's ahead of us.

"There's got to be over a thousand people here," she says. "At least. It just keeps going around the corner, all the way up to the fence."

"Fence?" I ask, standing on my tip-toes to get a look myself.

"The fence around Centennial Park," she says. She holds her hands over her eyes to shield them from the sun, squinting into the distance. "I can see troops on the other side. Maybe it's a check-point or something?"

"Let's try to get closer," Skye says. Suzi starts elbowing her way forward and I follow on her heels. My palm sweats as I clutch onto Skye's hand, too afraid to let go in case I lose her in this mess of people.

By the time we've pushed our way closer to the fence, my skin is glistening with sweat from the midday heat and shoulder-to-shoulder bustle of the crowd. I trace my gaze along the chainlink fence that borders Centennial Park, hoping to see a way through. But the gates are closed and a second fence has been set up, along with concrete barriers and barbed wire. That's when it dawns on me.

"There's no check-points or exits," I say to Skye and Suzi. "This is the end of the line."

Their faces fall as they see it, too. Troops stand guard in between the fences, pointing their guns at anyone who gets too close to the barriers.

Skye links her arm with mine. "They're not here to help us, are they?"

I shake my head solemnly. "No. They're here to trap us."

A man's voice booms through speakers hooked up to the fence. "Please remain calm. We are installing a quarantine for your safety. You will be allowed through the gates as soon as possible. Again, remain calm. We are here for your protection."

"Bullshit!" someone yells. Others start yelling too, saying it's all lies.

Someone in front of us mutters to their friends. "This isn't about our protection, it's about theirs. They think we've been exposed to the virus. They'll never let us through."

Virus? Is that what caused all this? Whatever started this, it's much bigger than a poisonous batch of party drugs. They lied to us, and now they're keeping us locked up...And it sure as hell isn't for our safety. It's for theirs.

"You can't keep us here!" a woman yells, carrying her toddler. "We're human beings! We have kids here that need help!"

I hear more yelling, but this time it's from the other side of the fence, inside the park. A crowd of protestors appears, pushing through police to reach the opposite barrier. They're too far away for me to read their signs, but their words are clear.

"Let them through!"

"Release them!"

"They're not sick!"

"Open the gates!"

"If you leave them there, they'll die!"

That last one makes my heart skip a beat. What do they know that we don't? Is it safe for us to be standing here, out in the open? Are we wasting precious time-time that could well be running out faster than we realize?

Just then, someone rushes toward the fence. "Let us through!" he yells. A soldier aims his gun and orders him to stop, but the young man doesn't listen. His family run after him and grab him by the shirt, trying to pull him back into the crowd. He breaks free from them and keeps running. Some people cheer him on, others scream at him, warn him that's he's going to get himself killed. He doesn't seem to listen to anyone.

The soldier fires his gun. A clump of dirt explodes next to the man's foot, narrowly missing him. It was just a warning shot. Hundreds of screams ripple over the crowd. The young man stands there, frozen, staring up at the soldier who still has his gun aimed at him.

"We're not going anywhere," he says to the soldier, and then he sits down. His family cautiously walk toward him, then sit beside him. Slowly, others start to do the same, sitting wherever they are in the crowd. Skye, Suzi and I sink to the ground, sitting squished together with total strangers, the sun burning my skin. But the young man was right; we're not going anywhere.

Three hours later, we're still sitting. After guzzling half of our water and snacking on some of our packed food, my stomach still rumbles and my mouth still feels dry. I don't know how much longer I can wait out here in the heat. People around us talk and cry and make plans to either escape or attack the fence. Suzi has made friends with a group nearby, all in their twenties and swapping conspiracy theories.

Skye sleeps curled up next to me, resting her head on my knee. I trace my fingers over her forehead and through her hair, once again jealous of her ability to sleep anywhere.

My mind wanders to the first time I ever kissed her. It was New Year's Eve, and we were sixteen. It started out just like every other New Year's Eve. Both of our parents were at the Oakbrook pub for the town party-where they went every year. It was stinking hot, the kind of Aussie summer that makes your clothes stick to your back and the whole town spend all day at the local swimming pool.

Skye and I were at her house, sitting on the floor under her air conditioner, watching horror movies and eating ice cream and her mum's leftover apple pie from Christmas-just like we always did on New Year's. Little did I know that before the clock struck midnight, my life would be changed forever.

It started with a simple gesture; her hand accidentally resting on mine. It lingered, and all I could do was stare at our fingers. I still remember the way my breath caught in my throat, like the air was sucked out of me.

"Sorry," she said with a shy smile. But she didn't move her hand away.

"Don't be," I said without thinking. I turned my hand slightly so that our palms were touching, our fingers slowly intertwining.

I remember the burst of courage I felt. How I reached my other hand up and cupped her cheek in my hand. The way she leaned into me and closed her eyes.

10...9...8...7...6...5...

The countdown to midnight began on the television, and to me it felt like a deadline. I knew that if I didn't kiss her by the time the clock struck twelve, I'd wimp out and never get this chance again.

4...3...2...

I leaned forward, closed my eyes and pressed my lips to hers. When she kissed me back it was like all the fireworks were for us.

Every New Year since then, I've kissed her just like that. And I hope I get to do it every year for the rest of my life.

However long-or short-that may be.

Gunshots blast through the air, shocking me out of my daydream. I lean over Skye, covering her from the bullets.

"Are they shooting at us?!" she screams.

I look around, watching them aim their guns past the crowd and into the distance. "No. Not us. Something away from everyone."

Craning my neck, I finally see what they're shooting at.

Zombies.