The Red Band

Quarantine Day One: Meeting Max

Sunday, 24th of May, 2025

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*5:32 am*

Do you ever get that feeling, the one that gives you knots in your stomach? The one that makes you think: something isn't right. That annoying mental itch at the back of your mind that you can't scratch until you find out what's wrong. That's what wakes me up. The constant brain-itch. The knots and aches forming in my stomach.

/What's wrong?/

I turn in my bed, pressing my face into the pillow.

There it is again. That itch.

I squint at the clock; have I slept in too late? The display says its around half five in the morning, that can't be it.

I sit up, pushing the covers off my legs. /Damn, it's cold./My gaze wanders from one side of the room to the other, as if I half-expect the answer to be written on one of the walls.

Goosebumps begin to rise on the back of my neck and I suddenly begin to feel as if a hundred creepy-crawlies are stalking across my skin. It's only when I begin to pat my shoulders, then my arms and legs, that I realise: there aren't any bugs on me.

/What is it?/

I attempt to fish it from my brain, this issue, this... whatever it is. Whenever I'm close, it seems to slip away, like a pain you know you can feel but as soon as you track it down to a place it moves.

Pulling the cover over myself, I lay down, trying to regain warmth, but it's no use. The cold has already got to me, snaking it's way around me. I shudder and look at the clock. It's now 5:36.

Itches begin to sprout up all over me, tiny as the tip of a needle, like they always do when I'm like this. I get this strange sensation, like when you can feel a sneeze coming up, the weird tingling in your nose, and you're so sure you're going to sneeze and then... you don't. Except this feeling persists.

/What could it be?/

My phone buzzes and I pick it up, eyes hurting from the bright light. On the screen is a notification from the News App: Total death toll for the 'Hemlock Virus' reaches 5,000 globally and 350 in the U.K. alone, the Government issues new public safety regulations.

All of it suddenly goes. The pinprick itches. The previously swelling knots in my stomach. The goosebumps. All replaced by an empty, sinking feeling, like being tied to an anchor and thrown overboard.

/Oh./

/Yeah./

I hesitate and then click on the link on the article; the Prime Minister has put out a video addressing the current situation.

"Hello," she says, sitting at her desk, a stern expression standing strong on her face, "as I'm sure many of you are aware, the 'Hemlock Virus' has continued to spread, infecting and killing many. Our old regulations clearly weren't enough and we are now issuing for all people above the age of sixty to stay at home. One person from each household, unless it is absolutely necessary to bring more people, is to be allowed out of their home at a time to shop for essentials: food, drink and household products. Otherwise, each person is allowed out once every day for health and exercise purposes and everyone is to stay three metres away from others. Only essential workers, for example firefighters and police officers, and those who work at shops which sell essential items will be allowed to go to work. The police and military will be patrolling the streets to make sure these rules are enforced and abided and will have the power to fine or arrest any offenders. There will be no public gatherings and the infected and those told to quarantine due to circumstances regarding being around those who are infected or those with underlying health conditions are to stay inside at all times and must get friends or family to shop for them and drop off the supplies at the door, before moving a safe distance away before the person opens the door. By abiding these rules, you can keep our country safe and our NHS running. Thank you."