The Hibernia Strain (6 page)

What a horrible way to go.
I hope these poor contaminated unfortunates aren’t in any way conscious anymore and are simply mere puppets unable to comprehend or feel what’s happening to them.

Emma is still hovering over me crying. Is she upset because I’m in a major dilemma or is it because she just killed someone, no something more like, which earlier she protested so strongly against doing? Maybe it’s a little bit of both. It’s irrelevant right now regardless. I really do have such a pointless habit of wondering stupid things at inappropriate moments.

I pull myself together and lift my sorrowful ass off the floor.

“Salt. Where do you keep your salt?”
I ask while spitting profusely in an attempt to remove as much as I can from my mouth.

“I don
’t have any. I don’t keep any. Added salt to food is bad for your health.”

She
’s crying hard and unable to complete her sentences. I root through her presses and find the one that I earlier noticed had herbs and spices in it. I spot a jar of nutmeg and grab it.

I recall from somewhere in the far recesses of my brain
, a conversation  I had with Shawn about how nutmeg can be toxic if eaten in a large dose and doing so can trigger severe nausea. Or
, puke your ring up,
is how he phrased it.

I toss the lot in to a glass of water and
gulp down the horrid mixture in one long swig. It’s difficult to swallow, and my taste buds are fighting me every drop of the way.

The reaction
is almost instant, as my stomach rejects the lot and I start gagging everything up again, all over the kitchen worktops and floor. Great big warm mouthfuls of vomit.

When I can’t heave up any more, I go to the sink and put my head under the tap. I gargle and rinse my mouth out for another minute ensuring I’ve spat out everything possible.

Have I done enough?
The only one way to find out is to wait and see if I transform into one of them. But how long does that take, minutes? Maybe even hours. Judging by everything we’ve seen up to this point, I reckon it won’t take too long.

Emma
who has now stopped crying comes over to me. Her pretty eyes are all bloodshot.

“You
don’t like me just because you want to get me into bed do you?” she asks. I shake my head.

“You like me because you
’re genuine and sweet.”

I shrug my shoulders.

“Well in that case, you have to be okay because I like you very much too Matt. So promise me you’ll make it, so when all this is over you can bring me out for that breakfast date you owe me.”

“I promise
,” I answer, despite the fact that I’ll probably be trying to eat her face by tomorrow and not in the good sexy way. We hug but it’s hard to enjoy it this time.

With all the niceties
completed we both know what the next course of action is. We’re going to have to go our separate ways. It’s too dangerous to stay with Emma and Shawn. There’s no guarantee I was able to completely clear the infectious fluids out of my system. I could change into a slobbering monster at any given moment.

“
Get the things you were packing.”

Emma
obeys and nips quickly to her room; returning a few minutes later with her things. I grab the small box with the bits and pieces of food in it.

I take her hand and lead
the way to the front door. I scout the surrounding area outside and upon seeing that the coast is clear we make a run for the jeep. Shawn is still there with the engine running.

When he sees us
coming he unlocks the doors, reaches over to the passenger side and swings the door open.

“
What took you guys so long and who was that irritating dick that came out of there and was begging me for a lift?” he asks as I help Emma in.

“
Emma will explain later,” I reply hurriedly. He looks at me be muddled.

“
You know that old abandoned hotel by the lake that we go to? Make your way there and wait for me. I’ll follow you both in a day or two.”

I turn my attention to
Emma.

“
If I don’t show assume the worst and stick to the original plan and head to your parent’s place.”

She nods but says nothing.
Shawn tries questioning my words.

“
There’s no time Shawn. Just hit the road and drive hard. Keep her safe for me.”

He
still isn’t sure what’s happening, but I know he trusts me enough not to question any further, so he answers with an abrupt, “Ok,” followed by a reassuring thumbs up.

I gently stroke
Emma’s cut cheek once with the back of my fingers.

“Stay safe and
I’ll see you soon.”

She says nothing. Her eyes
are beginning to well up again so I hand her the box of food before kissing her forehead. I shut the door before things get too emotional and tap the roof. On hearing my signal, Shawn salutes me goodbye as he puts the jeep in gear and pulls off.

I don
’t stay to watch. Instead, I turn and retreat back to the seclusion of Emma’s rundown digs. As I run I hear Emma’s poignant voice trailing from the departing vehicle.

“
Mountain View, our farm’s name is Mountain View.”

I
’ll need to make sure I remember that.

After returning inside, I lock the door and start pushing as much furniture as I can against it. When I’m satisfied it’s safe, it dawns on me that all I’ve eaten in the last two days or so is the pizza yesterday and some toast and juice. I never did get my chicken wrap.

My stomach growls in
time with my thoughts. I don’t really want to, but the pangs of hunger are strong enough to force me into approaching the blood and vomit drenched kitchen. The corpse is still lying there, giving me the creeps.

“You stay right there,”
I gesture with a wagging finger. The bloodstained sword is lying to one side. I pick it up and gingerly wipe down the blade.

I
decide to avoid the rest of that part of the kitchen entirely and instead rummage around some of the blood splatter free cupboards.

I come across
Emma’s stash of chocolate. She’s obviously a big chocolate fan. Being a self confessed chocoholic, I understand her addiction and cast no judgement. Instead, I grab a large handful of various treats and abandon that area of the house, locking myself in the bedroom. I barricade myself in; ensuring I’ll be undisturbed.

I
go to lie on the bed. As my head hits the pillow, Emma’s scent lifts into the air around me and I breathe it in through flared nostrils. I think of how intoxicated I was by this smell when she stood so close to me in the alleyway. I hope she’ll be safe. I know she’s in good hands with Shawn.

I tear open the wrapper of a
chocolate bar and take a voracious bite. Even though I’m hungry, my stomach still doesn’t feel quite right after the dose of nutmeg earlier.

As I
’m chewing fingers of tiredness start to caress my mind. It’s only the afternoon but I haven’t slept since yesterday morning. I’m fading fast.

I can
’t help noticing I have a warm sensation around my extremities.
Is this a sign that it’s the beginning of the end for me?
I say a prayer in my head and plead with God to protect me. It’s all out of my control now.

I decide to give being courageous in the face of adversity a go. There
’s no point in crying now. I slide the sword alongside me underneath the bed covers and then curl up.

I s
wallow the final gooey mouthful of my snack as I drift off into a deep overdue sleep, with thoughts of the beautiful Emma rippling through my psyche.

Please let me keep my promise.

SHAWN

7

Twenty seven minutes! It’s been twenty-seven minutes since either of us said a word. It’s half an hour since we drove off and left Matt behind in that shithole of an apartment.

She
’s sitting next to me in the passenger seat with a vacant expression on her face. I’m staring out the windscreen of my new wheels at the road with a puzzled look on my face. I’m still trying to make sense of the piss poor excuse for an explanation she gave me as to why we had to leave Matt behind.

Matt, who is the closest thing I have to a brother, made it
plenty clear that it was vital we part ways for a while and that
Emma
would explain everything. I know Matt well enough to listen when he has his serious face on.

Unfortunately, once we pulled off and Matt was out of sight, all I got from her was a minute or two of sobbing, before she spit out a muddled hysteric
account involving somebody named Jason and nutmeg flavoured vomit.

Matt
’s got a level head, but when it comes to women he’s made some dodgy choices. Although he’s never really talked much about it, I know he’s gotten messed around pretty bad a few times.

It occurs to me that she may be shaken up and upset, and that possibly some restraint and compassion may be in order on my behalf. BUT NO! The situation is too serious
, and besides, that’s never been my style anyway.

I mean
, who is this person sitting beside me? Did she flutter her eyelids at Matt just so she’d have a convenient knight in shining armour to escort her through this mess that’s going on? Who is this Jason character she mentioned? Some ex boyfriend from what I could gather from her rambling.

I turn my head and give her the eyeball in an attempt to provoke a reaction of some kind, conscious of the fact that she may still be a bit bent out of shape from our little exchange earlier. I get nothing, not a flinch!

I turn my head and face forward again. The roads are empty except for the odd car I see speeding by on other roads in the distance, and the increasing number of cars I’m encountering, apparently abandoned on the side of the road.

Frustrated by the lack of response from Emma
regarding when, where or even if we’ll see Matt again, I turn back to her and without thinking I say in a crude tone, “So who the hell are you again?”

I regret my lack of finesse almost immediately. The aggressive manor of my question doesn’t go unnoticed by Emma either, as it seems to have opened the flood gates on something that had been brewing since the journey began.

She
springs to life with a barrage of indecipherable ranting and abuse, from which all I can make out, is along the lines of, “How the hell did I let myself get caught in this situation with a juvenile psycho like you,” which I think is a reference to our earlier argument.

I hear Matt
’s name interspersed in the verbal avalanche, but I can’t tell in what context. I’m no stranger to provoking this kind response in women, but given recent events, and the fact that it’s been ages since I’ve slept, my ability to tune it out is failing me.

I find myself wondering if Matt
’s sudden need to be alone wasn’t an elaborate ruse to unload this toxic chick on me. I dismiss the thought as unlikely... but possible.

In an attempt to break her rant
I shout back at her, “If you’re so interested in Matt; why did you leave him back there?”

She pauses f
or a moment as her eyes tear up. I can’t tell if this is a result of sorrow or rage.

In a more focused and accusing voice she looks at me and says
, “Well YOU didn’t hang around too long after he asked you to leave either.”

I dig my fingernails into the steering wheel in an attempt to restrain myself. In my sleep deprived state I can
’t take this shite anymore.

I take a sharp turn off the road into an empty supermarket car park and bring the car to an abrupt stop in the first parking space I see.

Turning in my seat to face Emma, I raise my finger in an aggressive gesture and begin a rant of my own.

“
Listen to me you bitc...”

Before I get any further
Emma cuts in with, “You can’t park here; it’s a disabled parking spot. You ignorant prick!”

There
’s silence in the car. I’m left with my mouth open and my finger in the air like a knob, totally at a loss for a response to such a random, off topic criticism.

T
he beginnings of a coy smile form on the edge of Emma’s lips, and the two of us let out a muted chuckle as the tension dissipates.

For the first time she
starts speaking to me in a more natural tone. She explains all that’s happened and why Matt stayed behind.

I realise at this point
, that it’s concern for a mutual friend that has us both on edge and it’s possible she’s not the opportunistic succubus she first appeared to be... the girl is alright.

8

With tensions relieved for now
, it seems like a good time to pick up a few essentials. The supermarket is locked up, but the sight of that box in the back seat that Emma brought from her apartment, filled with
supplies,
is motivation enough for me to justify a bit of breaking and entering.

The content
consists of a half empty bottle of diet Cola, a packet of biscuits and five tins of beans. Her pathetic selection of food reeks of student lifestyle.

I
’m not sure of the best way to approach this little heist, especially considering Emma’s reaction to my story about how I got my new jeep.

I
’ve never been overly sensitive about rubbing someone the wrong way but I’m not stupid either. I’m well aware I’ll be spending the next few hours in tight quarters with her and she’s already pushed me over the edge once.

I glance back with a cringe at the beans
, and while considering the best way to approach things, I’m taken by surprise with the sudden, sharp sound of shattering glass.

I turn around to see
Emma awkwardly making her way through the broken window, with one leg on the ground and the other on the three foot high window sill.

I
happily cross my arms and smile at the sight I’m faced with, as Emma’s skirt rides up revealing a pair of little white panties covered with tiny love hearts. What a girly girl, just Matt’s type.

She stumbles as she lands with a shuffle inside the supermarket, quickly yanks her skirt back into place and without pause
, turns to give me a look that would kill a goat. I raise my eyebrows and grin back in response.

Once
we’re both inside the supermarket, her first stop is the girl’s toilet. I suspect her change of view on looting is as much a result of her desire not to pee outside, as it is the realisation that this infection thing isn’t as temporary a situation at it first appeared.

I stand guard outside
, and when she comes out we stay in eye contact as we shop for
essential
s. She gets what she wants while I grab a pack of two hundred pep pills and raid the tinned food section, taking a bit of everything except beans, I fucking hate beans.

Despite our little make up in the car park, conversation is still at a minimum between the two of us and that suits me fine.

It’s obvious there’s something there between her and Matt and even more obvious she’s worried sick about him. I was a little concerned myself but I know Matt, he’s far too stubborn to die when he’s chasing a bit of tail as tasty as Emma.

We carry our haul outside in shopping baskets
and start loading up the car. As I busy myself packing away the food, I see Emma staring blankly into the boot.

“D
on’t worry, you can’t get rid of him that easily, believe me, I know.”

It
’s a small and essentially meaningless reassurance but the effect on her character is immediately apparent.

Once the car can hold no more and I
’m struggling to get the boot closed, I take a quick glance over at Emma who’s getting into the front passenger seat. Taking my chance, I grab her supplies box and quickly fire it across the car park and out of sight. The boot snaps closed, and it’s time to hit the road again.

“Can I drive for a while,”
Emma asks, “It might help me get my mind off it all.”

I give her what she wants after a light hearted but genuine warning about putting a single scratch
on my VW.

A
s I switch with Emma and un-tense my back into the leather bucket seat, I realise this is the first time I’ve rested in nearly two days.

I was neck deep in a job last night, de
signing an identity for some nobody start up company, whose idea of a logo brief was,
“Give me a unicorn with an exploding galaxy behind it, but keep it simple.”

Like
usual, I was avoiding fatigue with coffee and a few special blends of my own. The days seem to meld together when you’re an insomniac, never sleeping but never really awake. I had to gather my thoughts and make sure I wasn’t dreaming when I got the call from Matt about pale faced weirdoes sucking the blood from unsuspecting taxi drivers.

I’m
still making my mind up about how real any of this actually is, although Emma has far too many clothes on for this to be a dream of mine.

Once we’ve been driving for a while, Emma starts to talk, opening up and telling me a bit about herself. I’ve no real intension of listening, but I don’t see this as a reason to stop her now that she seems to be on a roll.

I lean my forehead against the passenger window and stare out into the
distance. I’m noticing the bright, fresh greenness of the Irish countryside turning into an unsettling version of itself, as we pass what can only be described as an endless string of victimless accidents. There’s plenty of blood, and I think I even spot limb or two as we speed past, but no bodies.

From
what I’m witnessing, it’s hard to interpret what events could have led to this carnage but there’s no doubt they were bad.

My mind starts to wander, drifting as close to sleep as I usually get. As we
drive down this stretch of road; this twisted version of what would yesterday have been a mundane commute for hundreds of people going through the motions of their normal everyday lives, I consider the chaos that’s going on everywhere. With this apparent self-destruction of society I have to wonder if this is now the new
normal
, the next inevitable evolution of society.
Is this the new everyday world we’re gonna be faced with from now on?

The realisation of this possibility leads me to further ponder as to whether this world of entropy and random violence, where we
’re forced to
live on reaction alone really makes any less sense to me than the everyday life of nine to five. A life where people collect their dog’s shit in the street and smile every morning to people they can’t stand. A world where everything everyone says is coded to such a degree by social convention and political correctness that they’re not even sure what they’re saying themselves. Yeah, I think I’ll fit in about as well in this new world as I did in the last. Roll on
Society 2.0
.

I
waft back to reality and to the realisation that my thoughts are becoming less than rational. I’ve rarely been in a worse state than this before, and I can’t afford to be in anything but top form in this situation. I need time to rest properly and to eat something more substantial than the cold slice of pizza I ate for breakfast yesterday.

I can
’t tell if it’s been hours or minutes since we left the supermarket, but I notice that the previously chaotic scenes outside my window have taken a more structured, sinister complexion. We’re now encountering wreck after wreck of head on collisions, as if people were intentionally ramming each other off the road.

I
’m also suddenly aware of the reason for my return to reality, the background noise of Emma’s life story or whatever has ended. I look over at her wondering if she finally said something that required a response of some kind from me, only to see it’s the worrying developments outside that have rendered her silent.

While distracted by a particularly bloody wreck
, she grazes the right hand side of the jeep against an upside-down VW Beetle.

I
breathe in heavily and bite my lip. It’s obvious she’s uneasy and trying to keep calm in the face of the sights we’re passing, so I try to express gently that it might be a good idea for me to take over behind the wheel again for awhile.

By the time I feel I
’ve gotten my point across she’s in tears and angrily telling me to calm down stop shouting at her. Despite her protests, she seems more than happy to relinquish the responsibility of driving and she begins to climb over to the passenger seat.

I waste no time in hopping out and running around to switch seats
. I give the damage a quick inspection on the way, it’s barely a scratch; I overreacted. 

It
’s not my style to lose my cool so much. I need to get some rest soon. I try to muster some kind of apology, but I’m pre-empted by Emma’s urgent tone saying, “Look, I know, I know, it’s getting to both of us. Can we just get out of here please?”

That
’s all I need to hear. Just as I’m beginning to turn and face the road again, I spot something over Emma’s left shoulder on an adjacent road in the distance, over the river. It’s a group of five figures standing around an upturned car

It
’s immediately obvious there’s something unnatural about the scenario. All I can make out from this distance is there are another two figures outside the upside down car, one pinning the other down.

By this point
, Emma, who I imagine was starting to wonder why I was staring at her so intensely, has copped that I’m focused on something in the distance behind her and she swings her head around to investigate.

The only noise in the car is the hum of the engine as we both strain to see what the two struggling figures on the ground are
doing. The movements are far too random and violent for CPR. I quickly glance back at the five figures overlooking the spectacle. My blood runs cold as I realise all five of them are fixated directly on us.

The implications of this development hit me like a smack in the mouth. The nearest junctions conne
cting our two roads are about two kilometres behind us and five kilometres ahead of us.

I don
’t waste a second, as I stress all two hundred horses under the bonnet to their limit; the VW roars forward.

This action acts l
ike a starting pistol to the creeps across the river, who dart towards their piece of shit car in perfect synchronicity.

Emma
who apparently hasn’t noticed that we were spotted is shoved back into her seat. Before she can disapprove, she sees the car driving in parallel to us with six sets of ominous eyes peering over at us. Her automatic reaction is to buckle herself in, in a frenzy of frantic arm movements.

They
’re pulling ahead of us. I don’t know where they came across that car or what kind of over funded boy racer souped it up, but they’re going to cut us off and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I grab the open can from the cup holder and down the liquid inside, spilling a good third of it down my chin as I do.

The can contains the sweetest, most sugar saturated sports drink I could find in the shop earlier. I opened it as we pulled off when Emma started her driving shift, and I dropped in at least twenty pep pills to dissolve. The idea was I could sip it throughout my next turn behind the wheel.

There’s n
o time for sipping now, as I dodge and weave through the jagged wrecks scattered along the road. I need to focus. The menacing car is still speeding along parallel to us, all the while slowly pulling away towards the bridge up ahead.

I can feel myself getting carried away again
, so in the three minutes or so it will take to reach the bridge I need to quickly review the situation and the few options available to us. We can;

Stay where we are
and try to prepare for their inevitable arrival, making it six against two.

Go back the
road we came, giving us little or no advantage in out running them, not to mention the fact we’d be going the wrong way.

We could switch to four by four mode and sail up the embankment where their overpowered racer can’t follow, making a clean quiet escape; except the entire length of the motorway is clad in high tensile crash barriers. Besides, a clean and quiet escape, that’s not really getting into the spirit of things now, is it?

That leaves option
four... I’ve got a plan.