SPECIAL THANKS
As is customary, I would like to thank certain individuals for helping to make this book a reality. Writing this book came off of the back of the excitement and enthusiasm I had writing the first book.
Publishing that book was a series of challenges, notably of which was self-confidence, it being the first book I would ever publish.
The outcome was fantastic, I couldn't ask for more and the support from family and friends was also insurmountable.
I can tell you that nothing quite beats holding your own book in your hands and instead of telling people what I'm working on, I simply show them.
With that said, I want to once again thank the members of my family for supporting my last book and spreading the word, they know who they are.
I want to thank my friends, who have cameoed in this book, they too will know who they are.
I'd like to thank my girlfriend who has been a pillar of support in both writing this and in our personal lives.
Without you all, this book and those to follow wouldn't be possible.
Last but by no means least, a big thank you to you, the reader for reading this for the first time, I hope you enjoy.
CHAPTER 1 - RACHEL
8:21am - 5 Days until outbreak
. . .
“There are three sorts of people; those who are alive, those who are dead, and those who are at sea”
― Old Capstan Chantey
. . .
Rachel Rosemary Heart was a somewhat confident 25 year old with the life experiences to rival and perhaps even surpass that of generations preceding her.
The years were the furthest thing from a seamless transition, with each bringing about a torrent of new obstacles and in doing so, moulding her into a more awakened, headstrong and forthright member of society, battle worn from the ongoing war that was life in itself and she was just another pawn of the conflict, or that was at least the way she felt sometimes.
Social justice warrior, often considered a slant in her direction by those with the inability to comprehend complexities beyond their own shoes, was a badge she wore proudly, strongly campaigning for female, LGBTQIA, minority and animal rights. When it wasn't about the living, it was about that which made living possible, the protection and preservation of the very world she lived on.
You could possess all the intellect in the world and still be so clueless, the 20:20 clarity of vision and still be blind as a bat. Empathy was, is and forever would be the core component of human sustainability, so why were so few capable of it?
It shouldn't have come as a surprise; many were all too ready to chastise concepts new to them. It was easier to propagate a doctrine of Marxism than to adopt something that directly contradicted the beliefs and values they held to their bosom so tightly, labelling left-wing ideals taboo, mental defects, liberal terrorism, the fall of civil society and just about every other omen of the impending apocalypse.
Well, if empathy was a mental defect, she was perfectly content with being locked away.
Admittedly, Rachel hadn’t always been this forthcoming and certified in what she stood for, but compared to the person she once was, living everyday under the thumb of her heavily conservative parents, who in wanting the best for her, couldn’t quite comprehend just how much they were actually smothering her, the new Rachel might as well be a completely different person altogether.
Having grown up in Dulwich, London as a single child to not necessarily rich, but without any doubt comfortable parents, Rachel had only ever known privilege; she lived it, breathed it, drank it and ate it, she knew nothing else. The moment she was even remotely old enough, she was sent off to Wycombe Abbey School, an all girls boarding school, to which she initially loathed, being it far from all her creature comforts, her friends and her peaceful way of life, but slowly and surely she developed a liking for it, becoming her soul searching muse and the humble beginnings of her self-discovery, including - but not limited to - her sexuality.
To this day she still wouldn’t be able to with any degree of certainty, pinpoint exactly when her sexual awakening and affinity towards girls began. She could certainly remember completely innocent kissing and touching, but that was all supposed to be experimental, for boys and whatnot, or at least she had convinced herself of that. Somewhere along the lines she, unlike the others, developed a liking for it, leading to more manufactured excuses just to be intimate with the girls she had developed a favouritism towards, then a depressing spiral of self esteem issues, self loathing and confusion when it became clear that her new found obsession wasn't exactly the norm and the other girls had grown less interested in experimenting and more in actually attempting to meet boys, heartbreakingly those she liked the most.
Even after graduating, returning home and setting off for Warwick University, she was still trying to convince herself that it was all a phase and that her sexual compass would eventually reconfigure itself, so to speak.
Consequently, she briefly dated and lost her virginity to a guy, trying her utmost to ‘act straight’. It wasn't her finest moment, granted, but she'd be damned if it didn't help confirm her subconscious feelings.
It was in the second year she met Sadina, a Moroccan goddess studying law with hopes of becoming a barrister, the woman who brought her out, the woman who cracked the shell.
They were roommates and initially Rachel knew nothing of Sadina’s sexuality. Sadina was the close friend of a friend Rachel had spent the first year in halls with.
Sadina was everything a person could be, funny, smart, outgoing, confident and simply, unashamedly breathtaking, a distracting Cola bottle figure, eyes
