Since we’re into Spooky Season now, it seems fitting to focus on a zombie apocalypse novel. Mira Grant’s book Feed takes place in America about 15 years from now. A virus has caused anyone who dies to rise again as a zombie. There is no cure.
When the Rising took place, the traditional news outlets downplayed the seriousness of what was happening, thus losing the trust of their viewers. News now comes through independent bloggers, and the story follows two of these: a brother and sister named Shaun and Georgia Mason.
SPOILER ALERT FROM THIS POINT ONWARDS
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At the end of the novel, Georgia is infected and begins the process of changing into a zombie. Right before this, the Masons discover that the government is actively suppressing research into the virus that might lead to a cure. Georgia decides to use her last minutes to post the information as widely as she can, in the hopes of letting as many people as possible know:
I swung back to my monitor, trying to swallow away the dryness as I heard Shaun moving behind me, taking one of the spare revolvers out of the locker by the door and loading it, one careful cartridge at a time. What was it the reports said? The dryness of the mouth was one of the early signs of viral amplification, resulting from the crystal blocks of virus drawing away moisture and bringing on that lovely desiccated state that all the living dead seem to share? That seemed about right. It was getting harder to think about that sort of thing. Suddenly, it was all just a little too immediate.
My hands were still hovering over the keyboard while my mind struggled to find a beginning when I felt the barrel of the gun press against the base of my skull, cold and somehow soothing. Shaun wouldn’t let me hurt anyone else. No matter what happened, he wouldn’t let me hurt anyone else. Not even him. Not more than I already had.
“Shaun…”
“I’m here.”
“I love you”
“I know, George. I love you, too. You and me. Always.”
“I’m scared.”
His lips brushed the top of my head as he bent forward and pressed them to my hair. I wanted to yell at him to get away from me, but I didn’t. The barrel of the gun remained a cool, constant pressure on the back of my neck. When I turned, when I stopped being me, he would end it. He loved me enough to end it. Has any girl ever been luckier than I am?”
In my mind’s eye, I can see a young woman, sitting at a computer keyboard, the light from the monitor lighting up her face as she types. Behind her, a young man stands with a gun to her head, watching as she sends her final message to the world.
And those last words?
“Shaun I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean it I would take it all back if I could but I can’t I cant I I I I I I I all fading words going cant do this cant Shaun please Shaun please I love you I love you I always you know I Shaun please cant hold on everything jfdh cant do this jhjnfbnnnn mmm have to my name my name is Shaun I love you Shaun please gngn please SHOOT ME SHAUN SHOOT ME N–
TERMINATE LIVE FEED