Pandemic

PROLOGUE:
You slowly awake as gentle rain taps peacefully against the cold glass of the window on which you rest your tired head. After a few quick blinks, you're as awake as you can be, and tie your long white-blond hair into a ponytail. The familiar roar of an engine can now be heard much more clearly, and as you analyse your surroundings, it's obvious you're still on the number three bus that was taking you home from work. You quickly remove your phone from the pocket of your slim-fitting denim jeans, and check the lock-screen. It's four fifty-two in the afternoon and February eleventh, 2016, as you recollect.
Luckily, you've only been a sleep a short half hour, so you aren't lost. In fact, your stop is a good ten minutes from here. There aren't many others sat around from what you can tell; there's an old man wearing a tweed flat-cap and holding an engraved wooden cane, a short middle aged woman who's been glued to her phone since she paid for her ticket and a skinny man around your age trying to untangle his headphone wires.
Despite the time, it's getting pretty dark already, presumably because of the time of year, and it isn't long before it's time to leave the transport. You quickly arise and grab your backpack before gingerly pacing by the scrawny male whom you'd noticed had been uncomfortably staring at your B-Cup breasts throughout the ride.
Another five minutes of walking and you arrive in your flat. You wash yourself and grab a bite to eat before slumping down and watching the news. It's boring, but you don't have enough money for those fancy extra channels, so you stick to freeview. As you're dosing off, an alert is sounded through the TV, louder than the usual volume, stating that an infectious disease has broken out in an act of terrorism. The nervous presenter goes on to warn that it has come around through biological warfare, and that Britain is not the only country to be affected. You watch in shock for just a minute or two more before the power cuts out in your building. 'Oh.. god..' you mutter to yourself. The heating and plumbing also seems to have cut out, as though any essential power is being redirected somewhere more important.