Entry 931
Monday 15th April 2019
I'm still in the grubby cell but I'm not on my own, and my opinions on certain aspects of our situation are starting to change.
I woke up on a mucky mattress after a very uncomfortable night's sleep still wearing my gold thong and covered in yesterday's blood from the exploding infected. With the small amount of sunlight beaming from the small window at the top of the wall that was too high up for me to reach, wondering what today was going to bring.
After banging on the door, shouting to be let out and demanding to speak to someone for about an hour, I gave up and slumped in a heap on the floor, feeling miserable and depressed. I sat there for a few hours just staring into space feeling thoroughly p*ssed off.
I'd been sat on the cold concrete floor for an hour or so when all of a sudden, a clunking noise emanated from the thick cell door. I gasped, looked up, stood to my feet and the door quickly but briefly opened for a moment. Tara was then thrown into the room, she landed in a heap on the floor, and the door was then slammed shut and locked again. Tara got to her feet, threw herself at the door and started banging it. "LET ME OUT OF HERE YOU B*STARDS!" she yelled. "That's going to work," I bluntly said, "I've been doing that for hours. They'll just ignore you." "Christ," snapped an angry Tara, "There's got to be some way of getting out of here. God, you're still in that bl**dy thong." "Yes," I bluntly said, "Believe it or not they didn't provide me with a rail of designer suits and a personal tailor. I did ask, but they just said no. Idiot." "It's bad enough I'm trapped in this Hell hole, but to be locked up in here with you wearing nothing but that thong is just too much," snapped Tara. "Well, what do you want me to do?" I snapped, "Take it off? Would that help? We're all in this mess because of you!" "Me!?" gasped Tara. "Yes, of course you!" I loudly snapped, "You and your greed is what's got us here. If you weren't so obsessed with selling this virus and making money me, Richard and Trudy would still be on The Isle of Wight." "My God," said Tara, "After all this time, you STILL don't take any responsibility for your actions, do you? Typical Luke Warm. It's always someone else's fault isn't it?" "Sorry?" I snapped, "Are you saying that the mess we're in is not your fault and that it's my fault? Is that what you're actually saying?" "That's exactly what I'm saying you idiot!?" snapped Tara, "My God. No one made you get on that jet. In fact I did everything I could to get you off the bl**dy thing! Trudy's hot head and untameable temper landed her in this mess and as for Richard – well he's just a miserable clueless idiot who stumbled into this situation. I am not responsible for any of you being here. You all made your own decisions for your own reasons." "Yes!" I loudly said, "Those reasons were all to do with you, you f*cking oblivious idiot! You kidnapped my kids, brainwashed Kyle, killed Naomi, took me hostage, forced me to lie about Mia and stole the virus." "Your kids are fine, Kyle is fine, Naomi will probably be fine, you're fine now and as for the virus, it's because of you and that chav that Gemma and Biggs got away with it," said Tara. "My kids will be traumatised, Kyle's head will be all over the place, Naomi could be dead and as for me being fine, I'm stranded in Egypt, locked in cell with a psychotic murdering b*tch, covered in blood, wearing nothing but a pair of trainers and a gold thong. I'm a million f*cking miles from being fine. Oh, and as for Gemma and Biggs getting away with the virus, I'm GLAD they did. I'm glad they got away with the jet, I'm glad they got away with the virus and I'm glad they got away with all that money. Seeing that look of disappointment on your face might just be worth all this sh*t. You talk to me about not taking responsibility, what about you!? Look at all the harm you've caused. Don't you care?" "I've done what I've needed to do," said Tara. "You keep telling yourself that," I said, "Everything you have done is to sell the virus and get your hands on a load money. A load of money that is meaningless. How many times do we have to keep telling you? Money doesn't mean anything anymore!" "Oh, shut up Luke!" snapped Tara, "Money might not mean anything right now but it will mean something in the future." "What f*cking future!?" I loudly exclaimed, "This IS the future! THIS! Running for your life! Getting locked in cells! Attempting to escape! Trying not to get eaten or killed! THIS IS THE FUTURE!" I turned around, stomped off in a mood and plonked myself down in a huff on the dingey mattress. A short silence lingered. "Why have they thrown you in here anyway?" I asked. "One of their men has been bitten," said Tara, "They've taken me out my cell and put the infected man in there." "What for?" I said, "Why don't they just kill him?" "I don't know, Luke," said Tara, "I didn't ask. We need to figure out how to get out of here." "It might help if we know where HERE is," I said. "It's Giza Police Station," said Tara. "How do you know that?" I asked. "This is a cell, Luke," said Tara, "Plus I saw lots of police stuff scattered about the place when they dragged me out of the other cell." "Well why have they brought us here?" I asked "I mean who the Hell are these guys?" "My guess is that they're a bunch of survivors who just have got hold of some guns and weapons. They probably took over the police station back when the outbreak started." "Have you seen Trudy?" I asked. "No," said Tara, "She's probably in one of the other cells." "Yeah, but why have they just left us in here?" I said, "We've been here ages. What do they want with us?" "I don't think their English is very good," said Tara, "So communication is going to be hard. They saw all of the infected exploding in front of us, didn't they? That's probably why they brought us here. They want to get to the bottom of how we were able to just stand there while the heads of all those infected exploded." "Yeah, but they're not doing anything about it," I said, "If they want to figure out what's going on, they'll have to do more than just throw us in a cell." "I think they've got their hands full," said Tara, "Some of their men have been out looking for supplies and some have ended up infected. Looks to me like they're sorting out a burial. I think that's more important to them than us right now." "Well aren't they going to feed us?" I said, "I'm starving and I could really do with some water." Tara looked up at the small window at the top of the wall. "Luke instead of moaning, use that little brain of yours and think about how we can get out of here," said Tara. "We can't get out of here," I bluntly said, "We're trapped." "Oh, so we should just sit here and do nothing should we?" said Tara, "Christ, Luke. Man up will you? Put your hands together and make a step." "You what!?" said. "Make a step," exclaimed Tara, "That window is too high up, but if you give me a step up I can see what's out there. Come on!" Feeling fed up and that Tara's suggestion was pointless I interlocked my fingers, cupped my hands together and offered Tara a step-up. She placed her right foot in my hands, I hauled her up and she grabbed hold of the window ledge and looked outside as I took her weight. "See anything?" I asked. "Yes," said Tara, "It's like a big car park. There are cars, pick up trucks, vans and there's a light aircraft; a small passenger plane. It looks to be in good working order. That's our way out of here." Tara jumped back down on to the floor. "There might as well be a fully equipped Concorde with a first-class cabin and a red carpet leading up to it," I said, "It doesn't matter. We're stuck in here." "My God, you are hard work," snapped Tara, "I'm surprised you've lived this long with all the moaning you do. You just sit there moaning in your thong. I'll come up with a plan." "Oh, you will, will you?" I sarcastically said, "Well you do that. Take your time. Personally, I think we need to wait for help to arrive. Richard saw us being carted off. Maybe he'll find us and rescue us." "Ha!" laughed Tara, "Richard rescue us!? Don't make me laugh. He'll have cut his losses, legged it and left us high and dry whilst he saves his own skin. He's probably hiding somewhere, sh*tting himself right now. Selfish coward." "Takes one to know one, I guess," I said. "I'm many things, but I'm not a coward," said Tara. "Yeah, but you're selfish," I said. "I was the one that got my knife out when those guys started approaching us," said a firm Tara, "What did you do? Stood there in your thong, saying 'Let's talk about it.' Pathetic. Sometimes there's a time for talk and a time for action. That's your problem you know? You never know when to stop talking and start taking action." "Do you really think I care about what you think of me?" I snapped, "You're a psychotic murderer. Your opinion means nothing to me." "Well I have come up with a plan to get us out of here," said Tara, "Does THAT mean anything to you, or shall I stay quiet?" "Just tell me," I firmly said. "OK," said Tara, sounding focused, "Now, whoever this lot are they don't want us dead. If they did, they'd have killed us already. They want us for something. That's why we're still here, cooped up in this cell, and that means they're going to come back. They all seem to have guns on them, so when they come back, we've got about five seconds before they unlock and open the cell door. The minute we hear the door opening, I need you to punch me hard in the face." "What?" I said. "Make sure you do it hard on the nose," said Tara, "That way my nose will bleed and I can smear some of the blood around my lips and on the floor, making it look like I've died. I'll lay on the floor and then when the guards come in, they'll inspect me and probably check for a pulse. When they get close, I'll knock one of them out, take their gun and when I do that, you deal with the other one." "Deal with the other one!?" I exclaimed, "What do you mean, deal with the other one?" "Look," said Tara, "There'll probably be two guards. One will probably check on me whilst the other covers you with his gun. As soon as I knock out the guard that's checking on me, the one that's covering you will be distracted for second. That's your opportunity to kick the other guy in the balls and grab his gun. We'll kill them both and get out of here." "Tara, this plan has got more holes in it than some swiss cheese" I said. "I thought you'd jump at the chance to punch me in the face," said Tara. "This is about us getting out of here," I said. "Yes, and this is the best plan we have," said Tara, "Certainly better than waiting for bl**dy Richard." "Look, why don't I play dead on the floor?" I said, "I think you've got a better chance of grabbing the gun off a guard than I have." "Luke, I will be the one to play dead," said Tara, "The guard who covers you WILL be distracted when he sees me knocking out his mate. That will give you the opportunity to grab his gun. Besides, I don't think I have the stomach to be looking down at your arse in that thing as you play dead." "This isn't going to work," I said. "It will work if you're quick," said Tara, "As soon as the door is heard opening, punch me hard. Hard enough for my nose to bleed, but not hard enough to knock me out." "Do I look like an expert in punching people?" I said, "How the f*ck do I know what the ideal velocity is needed for a punch to cause a nose bleed but not unconscious." "OK," said Tara, "Shall we go with your suggestion? You play dead and I'll punch you?" "Why does anyone have to punch anyone?" I snapped, "As soon as the door opens why don't you just fall on the floor and act dead." "A bit of blood will make it look realistic," said Tara, "Anyone would think you didn't want to punch me." I slumped back down on my grubby mattress and sulked. I'm not sure about Tara's plan but in the absence of Richard turning up to rescue us, it's the best we have.
As the day came to a close and the sun set, Tara and I found ourselves on the floor sat opposite each other propped up against the wall. "What are we going to do about sleeping arrangements?" asked Tara. "You can sleep on the floor," I bluntly said, "That's my bed." "Fine," said Tara, "I'm sure I can live without lying down on a dirty flea ridden mattress." A silence lingered. "So how did you get involved in ACROBAT?" I asked. "Do you care?" asked Tara. "Not really," I said, "But making conversation is better than sitting here in silence." "I'm happy with silence," Tara said, bluntly. "Fine," I sternly said. Another silence lingered. "Harold Endo was my University Professor," said Tara, "I was a young ambitious thing and Endo spotted something in me that he said he could harness. It was a long time ago. It was just as Endo was leaving the University and setting up on his own. I had no idea how much money he had. I suppose all that power seemed really attractive. Anyway, he was already running ACROBAT but he expanded and launched facilities in every continent across the globe. He gave me training and within no time I was trained in espionage, the use of complicated weapons, armed combat, survival and the use of sophisticated technology. You know he introduced me to Mia when she was a little girl. She won't remember that though. He told me that she was the whole reason ACROBAT was created. He just wanted her to get better. She was such a sick little girl. When I saw how she improved it was just phenomenal. Absolutely phenomenal. I knew that this man, this professor could achieve great things. When he told me that the virus could be synthesized and used to make the world better place, I absolutely believed him. In a strange way I still do." "If all this is true, then why did you steal the virus to make money?" I asked. "Time," said Tara, "Endo has been saying for years that he could synthesize the virus and that one day he would get it to the point where it could cure the common cold, enhance people's quality of life and extend human life expectancy. That day never came, and I couldn't wait any longer." "What do you mean you couldn't wait any longer?" I asked. "It doesn't matter," said Tara. "No, tell me," I said. "No," said Tara. "Come on," I emphasized, "I..." "Luke, just shut up," said Tara, "This isn't some sort of weird bonding experience we're having here, so don't try and turn it into one. We're stuck in a cell together and that's it. I killed your ex-wife. I've shot the woman you've been lusting after for ages. You hate me, remember?" "Yeah well you can hardly blame me," I said. "I don't," said Tara, "I'd hate me if I was in your shoes." "It's like you want people to hate you," I said. "I don't care whether you hate me or not," said Tara, "I'm ambivalent about the whole thing." "Why couldn't you wait any longer?" I asked. "Luke..." said Tara. "God, just tell me," I firmly said, "Why does it matter? Just tell me." "Luke, I know that right now money has no value," said Tara, "I know that. I do. But other people don't agree. They might not be able to take their money and go down the street and buy expensive watches with it, but they still WANT money. Cash might be meaningless to you but it means something to other people you know?" "What do you need all this money for?" I curiously asked, "I mean if you'd have gotten away on that jet with all that cash Gemma and Biggs took, what would you have done with it?" "It doesn't matter," said Tara. "It sounds like you don't just want a load of cash to sit on some secluded desert island and sun yourself," I said, "It sounds to me like you desperately needed this money. What did you need it for?" Tara looked uncomfortable. "Oh, just shut up, Luke," she snapped. "No," I firmly said, "Let's have everything out in the open. I'm sick of all the secrets and lies. What did you need this money for? Just f*cking tell me. After everything you've done – after all the sh*t you've put us through the least you can do – the VERY least you can do, is be honest and tell the truth. What is all this for? Everything you've done is so you can sell the virus so you can get your hands on all this money, but why the Hell do you need all this money!? Why!? Just tell me!" "My sister's dying!" Tara loudly exclaimed. Silence lingered I was taken aback and felt confused. "Sister?" I said. "I don't want to talk about it," said Tara. "Tough," I said, "I want to know what it is about this sister of yours that caused you to put us all through Hell. The least you can do is explain things." Tara gave a defeated sigh. "She has the same condition Mia had," said Tara, "I suppose it's why I got on with Harold when I first met him. He was working so hard to make sure Mia recovered from her terrible illness. He was dedicated; like he would do anything to make sure she'd get better. I suppose he inspired me to help my own sister. When I saw how he cured Mia I thought he could help me to cure my sister." "What happened?" I asked. "Well," said Tara, "Harold cured Mia, but for some reason he couldn't cure my sister. Something to do with some sort of abnormality in her blood. I don't know. I just know he couldn't cure her like he cured Mia and I was devastated. I was there on the day he told me he couldn't cure her. It killed me. I decided right there and then that I would devote the rest of my life to doing all I could to keep my sister alive. My parents are dead now but before they died, they bought a villa on a small island just off the coast of Barcelona. That's where I stopped off at when I flew to Egypt. That's where my sister is. The only reason she's still alive is because I'm paying private Doctors to look after her. They're not cheap. I know money means nothing these days, but you try telling these Doctors that. If I'd have gotten away on that jet with all that cash, it would have paid for those Doctors to look after my sister for the rest of my life. I'm running out of money, and if I run out of money the Doctors will stop looking after my sister, and then she'll die." A cold shiver ran down my spine. I know Tara has displayed some pretty brutal and awful behaviour, but I actually felt sorry for her. "All this," I said, "All of this is so you can pay Doctors to look after your sister. Why didn't you just tell us? Why weren't you honest right from the start?" "I don't want people feeling sorry for me," Tara firmly said, "I'm independent. I can do this on my own. I'd rather have hate than pity." "What about having help?" I said. "That's just as bad as pity," said Tara. "Is it?" I said, "The Doctors are helping you and your sister, now aren't they?" "For a fee," said Tara, "I'm paying them remember? Anyway, this is none of your business." "Tara, The Isle of wight has medial professionals on it. Helen Harvey could help your sister. You could bring her to the island and she could get the help she needs." "There's no guarantee of that," said Tara, "I've given up on a cure. There's more of a guarantee that the Doctors can keep looking after my sister and keep her alive if I can get cash. Anyway, after manipulating my way into the prison, kidnapping Blade and roughing him up, I don't think GRID would be too keen to help me. They'd probably shoot me on sight." "We could explain things," I said. "Oh, Luke, don't be naive," said Tara. "I'm serious," I said, "You didn't have to go to all these lengths. People didn't have to die. Why didn't you just tell us the truth." "My sister. My problem," said Tara, firmly, "Anyway; I'm a soldier. If you want something you fight for it and make sure you get it. If people die in the process then that's a shame but that's life. Collateral damage. Killing and fighting is all I know." "But Tara," I said, "Don't you get it? Killing people to ultimately stop someone from dying is just... Well... Stupid. It's pointless. Are you really comfortable with so many people dying so your sister can live?" "Oh, Luke, just shut up," snapped Tara, "I don't want to talk about it. I just want to get out of here so I can get back to my sister." "You don't need the virus, Tara," I said, "You just need cash to pay Doctors. It didn't have to be this way." "Luke. I don't want to talk about this anymore," said Tara, "Let's just focus on getting out of here." "What's your sister called?" I asked. "Kirsten," said Tara, "Her name's Kirsten."
I could tell that Tara was bothered. As the night drew in and the cell got darker, I actually felt sorry for Tara. She's certainly made some mistakes and displayed some brutal and unforgiveable behaviour, but now I've got a greater understanding of why she did everything she did. If we manage to get into the small passenger plane maybe I can convince Tara to fly us to the small island off Barcelona where her sister is, and fly her back to The Isle of Wight so she can be looked after without an extortionate amount of money needing to be paid. These Doctors don't just sound stupid, what with being desperate to get hold of cash that has no value, but they sound like evil b*stards telling Tara that they won't help her sister unless they get cash. I suppose if my kids or Auntie Meryl were really ill, I'd do whatever I needed to make sure they're OK. A lot us have displayed some pretty horrific behaviour, and committed some rather brutal and regrettable acts since the outbreak happened. As I look over at Tara's face now, I think I've got to her. I can tell she's starting to think things through. She even looks a bit guilty.
Things might look different in the morning. I doubt either Tara or I will get a good night's sleep, but if we are able to escape this Hell hole, I might be able to convince Tara to bring her ill sister to The Isle of Wight. I'm seeing a different side to her now and whilst I hate what she's done, I suppose I can understand – to a point, why she's done it.