The Hibernia Strain (3 page)

3

I lean back on the hind legs of the chair and pat my stomach. Emma kept her end of the bargain. A homemade pizza whipped up from scratch followed by dessert of pancakes, topped with blueberries and maple syrup. She’s actually pretty good in the kitchen. That’s another positive attribute of hers for me to add to the list.

We had a
good chit chat over dinner. I found out she has no brothers or sisters. Her mother is a doctor and her father a surgeon. Both are currently on holiday in France.

She has a r
eally easy going personality rounded off with a sunny disposition. Pretty much everything I had expected from meeting her last night. And the fact that she doesn’t have a boyfriend is the cherry on top.

I look across
the table. Emma is running her thumb along the rim of her plate gathering up some syrup before proceeding to lick it off. She catches me watching and with her thumb still in her mouth she mumbles, “What?”

I devise a plan to make a move on her.

“Fancy watching a movie?” I enquire, hoping for an accepting reply.

“Sure, why not
. There’s bound to be something on the TV.”

Excellent step one was successful
.

We quickly tidy up the dishes
, go into the sitting room and plop ourselves down on the couch. The day is flying by so quickly. Its six PM already and the Gardai still haven’t shown up. I’m starting to doubt they will at all. This is a good thing. It makes me feel a little less worried about us getting in trouble.

Emma
powers on the television with the remote but gets nothing but static. She flicks through all of the Irish channels in order. All display the same snowiness. This is very odd indeed, but I quickly dismiss it as the British channels are working.

We don
’t make it past the first channel however, as the images cause us both to freeze on the spot. I’d be forgiven for mistaking the scenes of carnage on display as being those from a horror movie. They are, in fact, a live feed from the evening news.

It’s no longer just the
Gardai involved. The army is now on the scene too. However, despite the reinforcements, it looks like they’re fighting a losing battle.

I can
’t help but be reminded somewhat of scenes from years gone past, of the violence spawned from the troubles in Northern Ireland between the Irish Republican Army and Ulster Volunteer Forces.

News helicopters beam back images of grotesque ongoing assaults on soldiers
. In return, the soldiers are shooting back tear gas, and what I imagine are rubber bullets.

The reporters are trying to reason with each other what exactly
is happening. In truth, it’s obvious they don’t really have a clue.

The banner scrolling acr
oss the bottom of the screen reads, “
Riots reach chaotic levels in Ireland
.” I can’t help thinking this can’t be real. What I’m watching just can’t be happening.

It
’s too crazy, but there it is in full colour on the screen in front of me. There’s bloodshed and anarchy unfolding on a dumbfounding scale.

I look at
Emma. She’s watching the screen in silence, mesmerised. I don’t say a word.

What
’s the worst that can happen? Things are a bit out of hand. It’ll pass, right? The chokehold of the ongoing recession has probably finally gone too far, and people are just venting their anger. We don’t need to worry, we’re plenty safe here
.

With
out warning, Emma pulls out her phone and states that she’s ringing her parents to let them know she’s ok. She dials the number and lifts her phone to her ear. I can hear the ringing from the earpiece until it goes to voicemail.

She hangs up and rings again.
She gets the voicemail again, except this time she leaves a friendly message saying, “Hi Mom. Just a quick call to let ye know I‘m fine, and I hope the holiday is going well. Chat soon. Love you.”

She did
n’t mention anything about the trouble brewing outside. I suppose since they’re on holidays maybe they haven’t even heard about the riots. There’s no point in giving them undue reason to worry.

I can
see that Emma is a tad upset. I hope she isn’t worried about the riot because I’ve convinced myself that it’s not going to affect us.

Getting up from
her seat, she switches the TV off, walks over to the window and proceeds to stare blankly out at the late evening sky.

Unsure what to do in the awkward silence
, I decide to join her.

L
ooking at the streets outside, you would never tell that such trouble was going on just a few kilometres away. There are people going about their business as usual.

The sky is dark with clouds
, and it’s threatening to rain. Damn unpredictable Irish weather, it can never make its mind up.

“I don
’t fancy that movie anymore if that’s ok,” Emma breaks the silence, taking my hand and leading me in the direction of her bedroom.

I didn
’t have a
step two
planned, but it looks like I didn’t need it after all.

She opens the door and in we go
. The curtains are pulled tight, but there’s just enough light still penetrating through the material, to illuminate the room in a dull hue.

We get to the bed
, and Emma sits me down first then lies me back before kneeling over me. She rests her left hand on the bed beside my right shoulder to steady herself and with the other she runs her fingers through my hair, all the time gazing at my face.

I rest my hands on her hips
, and she takes this as a signal to begin kissing. Her pouting lips feel so soft and full against mine. A delectable warm feeling that is only made better by the sensually erratic movement of her tongue in my mouth.

I run my hands up and down her back
, and as the kissing becomes more passionate I get bold enough to chance putting them under her top. She doesn’t complain.

T
he feeling of my hands on her skin draws a breath of pleasure from her lips.

I
grab her hips again but this time I run my hands along her sides and up her ribcage until I reach her bra.

Instantly she breaks away from kissing and kneels up.
Aw crap, my busy little hands have gone too far.
I find myself to be wrong as she unhooks her bra and pulls her top off exposing her impressive cleavage.

I just stare
stunned and in awe. She smiles and wrestles my top off me before once again kneeling over me and continuing kissing.

With her breasts
pressed against me, I can’t help but get a full blown erection. That of course combined with the fact that her free hand has wandered down the front of my jeans.

I
can’t take anymore and roll her off me and onto her back. I kiss her neck and work my way down the side of her right boob and cut back in towards her stomach. She’s moaning and sighing gently the entire time.

I reach the waistband of her sweatpants
, and when I don’t receive any orders to halt, I teasingly tug them off her to reveal cute super girl underwear.

Now I just need to concentrate and go to work with all my A-game foreplay moves.

S
everal minutes have gone by, and I’ve obviously being doing a good job pleasing her as she whispers to me to get a condom from her bedside locker.

I don
’t hesitate and root through the drawer until I unearth a well hidden box of Durex. To my dismay however, I open it to find it empty. I hold it up to show her and she curses. Inside I’m cursing too. So close yet so far.

“What a pain,”
Emma states, giving voice to both our disappointment, as she stands up.

Now that she
’s standing I can get a clear view of the fantastic body she has. This of course does nothing to stem the frustration I’m feeling right now.

She walks up to me
, and while kissing my chest she begins undoing my belt buckle.

“Well I guess
if we can’t have sex I’ll just have to repay the favour then wont I.”

A
s she kisses lower and lower down my body all I can do is mumble in agreement, like a moron. A lucky moron!

4

We
’re both lying here in silence, resting ourselves after our energetic activity. I still can’t believe that actually happened.

I
’m lying on top of the duvet with my boxers on. Emma slid under the sheets still naked. She’s drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face. This of course makes me smile too.

I
decide to take the opportunity to wander back to the sitting room and check for any updates on the riot.

The room is dark now so my hand
fumbles about the top of the bedside locker trying to switch on the lamp. I find the switch and flick it on, but nothing happens.

My eyes have
adjusted enough to the gloominess to make my way to the door. I flick the light switch on the wall. Nothing happens again. Is the power out?

I try the TV; it’s
dead too. There’s no electricity at all. Is it a power outage or has Emma’s circuit breaker tripped?

I go
to the window and look out. Everywhere is in darkness. Something is definitely wrong.

I grab my phone.
Still there’s no reception and on top of that the battery is now dangerously low.
Perfect
.

I need to g
et back to my place. My pet cat needs feeding and I need a change of clothes.

I alread
y know Emma doesn’t have a car, and I left mine near the takeaway last night. I hadn’t realised that I’d be getting in the taxi too. Speaking of which, I have no intention of getting another taxi or venturing outside on foot again in the dark after the creepy attack.

What a p
ain in the ass. What to do?
Then it hits me. My friend Shawn, I’ll ring him to come and collect me.

Shawn is a graphic designer by day and a freelance ar
tist by night. If ever there were a poster boy for insomnia then he’s the guy.

He works for a big
, high profile company in the city, but it’s in his own time that his talent really shines through. Creating amazing works of art that often keep him up all night and see him go bleary eyed to work the next day.

Coffee isn
’t his only drug of choice, but he consumes so much of the stuff that it seems to keep him powered like a liquid battery.

He can be loud,
sarcastic and likes to shoot his mouth off, but he’s a good laugh. He’s also been my closest friend for years. He’s someone whom I can always depend on and trust.

I
borrow Emma’s phone from the couch and dial his number. I’m sure she won’t mind me using it.

It rings several times.
Shit, he’s not going to answer
. I’m about to give up when I hear, “Hey what’s up man?” echo down the line.

I can hear Pink Floyd playing loud in the background.
He still has power anyway.

“You
’re ringing late. Or is it early? What time is it?” “Time for you to payback one of the many favours you owe me,” I laugh.

I slowly and meticulously explain the situation
, and he agrees to come right over. He lives at least twenty or so minutes from here, but he won’t have to pass near the danger areas. I can hear he’s already grabbing his keys as I hang up the phone.

I quietly steal back into th
e bedroom and grab my clothes, then just as quietly leave again. I get dressed in the sitting room, then sit and wait alone in the dark for Shawn’s arrival.

My mind starts
thinking back on the happenings of last night.
The taxi driver must surely have been found soon after we fled the scene. There’s no way of knowing if there were any witnesses. What exactly was the deal with the Toma girl?

The day with Emma was a good distraction, but I already had so many questions and no answers. And with the power outage and riots on the streets I now have even more.

5

The enti
re night has passed allowing dawn to sneak up on me. Just like yesterday morning, I once again find myself watching as the sunlight slowly creeps along the powder blue apartment walls.

Emma
slept through the whole night without waking. I, on the other hand, didn’t sleep a wink waiting for Shawn to get here.

I tried ringing
from Emma’s phone several times but all I got was the service provider message stating, “The customer you are calling may be out of coverage or have their mobile powered off.” This unnerves me as Shawn is always punctual and always has his phone charged and good to go.

I
try one more time. Again no luck except this time it’s because this phone has now lost coverage too. I wonder what is happening in the world outside.

The TV is still dead
so I can’t check the news and of course the internet on this phone has ceased working now too.

With daylight now broken
and there still being no sign of Shawn, the logical and cheapest thing to do is make my way to the bus station and get a ride home.

I rous
e Emma from her drowsy state, explain to her that I need to go and that if she’d like we should meet up again sometime. I also tell her if a random friend of mine turns up to tell him he’s too late.

I
’ve just given Emma a kiss goodbye when she sits up in bed with the sheet wrapped around her to spare her modesty. She pipes up, “Breakfast. I’m going with you and you’re buying me breakfast.”

I
’m somewhat taken aback by this. I knew she was forward, but didn’t think she was so demanding. I don’t answer for a second and just stand there gawking at her.

No
, now that I look at her she’s not being bossy. I think she just wants the company. She’s lonely maybe, or possibly is interested enough in me to want to spend another morning with me. Whatever the reason is I’m not going to argue, after all I do have condoms at home. 

I make a quick bite to eat to tide us over while Emma has a quick shower and gets dressed. We eat our small pre breakfast meal,
hmm preakfast
, of toast and fruit. I have juice and Emma has coffee.

With our stomachs filled a bit
, we ready ourselves to go. We plan on heading to the bus stop nearest to the college. This means we can walk by the location of the other night’s debacle and check it out.

We
’re just about to leave the apartment when I spot a portable radio on a table by the door. If it has working batteries in it, then we might catch a news report.

I
pick it up and flip the switch on. Emma must have been listening to it while she was getting ready to go out last night as the volume knob is turned way up and I get hit with a blast of white noise.

I change to an
other station. It’s the same story, more static. I try a couple more but no luck.

“
Emma your radio’s broken or something.”

I look
at the time. It’s now ten past seven, and there’ll be no news until half past anyhow. I turn the radio off again and decide it’s best to make a move for the bus as we’ll miss it if we wait around.

Out
the door we go. Emma locks it and double checks that it’s secure. I stick a note to the door knocker for Shawn in case he arrives and wonders where we’ve gone.

We begin to ret
race our steps from Friday night. It’s noticeably quiet out. We don’t meet anybody at all. It’s a Sunday morning. Everyone else is still in bed nursing hangovers I assume.

As we get close to where we abandoned the taxi
, I can clearly see that it’s still there. The lights are still on. It might be unmoved because the Gardai are doing some sort of forensic examination.

We advance a little further, taking our time and making sure not to get too close.
What’s going on?
There are no Garda cars and the area hasn’t even been cordoned off with a police line.

We don
’t mutter a word to each other as we edge a little closer. It’s becoming more apparent that the crime scene hasn’t being touched. Untouched that is, except for the driver’s body. There is nothing left from where he lay, except some blood stains spattered on the ground.

Did he survive?
It’s possible the wound wasn’t too deep, and he managed to get a passing car to bring him to hospital or even call an ambulance. But why then is the car still there in the same position with the front wheels against the kerb and the tail end sticking out to the middle of the road? Why hasn’t it been towed away or at the very least moved to a safer position on the roadside?

I’m suddenly
aware of a car approaching. It’s the first sign of another person since we left Emma’s apartment. It’s approaching fast, well over the speed limit.

As it nears
the abandoned taxi the car doesn’t slow down, instead it maintains its speed and swerves out past the stranded taxi. The cars wing mirror shatters as it clips the side of the taxi. The driver doesn’t slow anything, just motors on and disappears into the distance.

“I don’t know what’s going on Matt, but I’m scared. Can we just get out of here please?”

I
’m inclined to agree with her suggestion and we hurry our asses in the direction of the bus stop.

Along the way
, there’s still no sign of any other people. The ominous feeling that’s being resting in the pit of my stomach is starting to overwhelm me. It’s virtually as if this area of the city was abandoned. Almost like there was a bomb scare or something.

Holy shit
, was the area evacuated for a bomb threat, a chemical spill or something of that nature
?
We wouldn’t have heard any breaking news reports with all the communications being down.

Surely the army or
Gardai would have gone door to door to make sure everyone was out of the area. I was awake all night so I definitely would have heard knocking. What if there was no time for that. All these possibilities are running through my head as we finally come within viewing distance of the bus stop.

T
here waiting are two buses. Even from here I can hear the hum of the engines.
Great.
That must mean the bus service is still running at least.

As we get alongside the first bus
, I make out that there are no passengers queuing outside or waiting onboard either bus.

I
cautiously approach the door of the bus nearest to us. It’s closed. I reach out and pull down on the emergency open lever located to the right of the door. It squeakily slides open. Inside is silent like a crypt. My arm hair is standing on end.
Man up will ya, Emma’s watching!

I advan
ce up the two steps and peer down the length of the aisle, but there’s nothing to see.

I get off and move on to the next bus. The door is open on this one
and with no driver to greet me I get on reluctantly.

Emma
is stuck to me like my shadow, following my every move.
She must be freaked out. Hell I’m freaked out.

I glance down the aisle. At first I don’t see anything until I happen to catch a glimpse of something stirring between a set of seats near the back.

“Hello,”
I say, my voice shaky but loud. There’s no response. “Hello,” I repeat, this time sterner, as I edge down the aisle.

I place my hands on the headre
st of each seat as I pass. Each one I manage to handle is like a little victory over the nervousness coursing its way throughout my body. There’s still no answer.

As I get to
about three seats away I notice the figure of a man hunched over against the window with his back to me. He’s quivering slightly. I speak a third time, “Hello is everything okay?”

No reaction
, just a continued trembling motion.

I stretch
out and put a shaky hand on his shoulder. This is enough to provoke a reaction, as the
victim
, who was apparently playing possum, whips around towards me and grabs my left wrist with both hands.

I immediately recognise the face before
me.
What the fuck are you doing here?
 

It’s
our taxi driver. However, now he’s a gaunter, paler version of his former self. He throat bears the sign of the nasty bite wound which has crusted over into a blackish scab. I can’t think of any other reason for this outlandish behaviour other than he must have contracted something from that Toma girl. It could be possible she had rabies or some condition.

I
start struggling to break free. It’s no good I can’t get loose. His arms are scourged with bloody sores. They’re vile looking and have a discernible whiff of rotting flesh that turns my stomach when I inhale.

The more I thrash about
, the tighter his grip seems to become. Like a crocodile compressing its jaws down on a helpless wildebeest, its grip becoming more vicelike with every struggle of the prey.

I stand
my ground and try pounding him with my free hand, but my strongest blows don’t seem to be causing him to flinch much.

I
’m about to land one more punch when a mouthful of spit, the makeup of which contains as much blood as it does saliva, lands squarely on my cheek. The disgusting dark greenish red mixture slides down my cheek and drips off to the floor.

The sight of this is enough for
Emma to fly into action and she grabs an emergency fire extinguisher from the drivers’ area. One swift blow to the head is enough to loosen his grip on me as well as two of his teeth.

“Hands off
, he’s mine,” she threatens the now unconscious heap. This girl is unlike any I’ve met before. By looking at her you would assume she was a girly girl who wouldn’t be able to protect herself. How wrong you’d be. She’s either got a lot of courage or some seriously underlying anger issues.

She picks up a random
ly discarded hoody from one of the seats and wipes the grim fluids off my face.

“Now were even,”
she spouts as she taps her finger against the cut on her cheek from the other night.

I don
’t have time to muster a laugh or a smile as meanwhile three more sick looking excuses for human beings have come aboard the bus. They’re slowly shuffling down the aisle towards us, making disturbing growl like noises and throwing fearsome looks in our direction.

Amongst the trio are two men,
one of whom looks in about the same condition as the taxi driver. The next one looks fine except for that all too familiar grey tinged skin. And the final lurker is none other than the Toma girl.

Her appearance has diminished considerably since
we last saw her. Her facial skin has sagged, and the veins look as if they’re almost protruding through her skin. Her eyes are bloodshot and bulge in their sockets. The rest of her bared skin is in the same condition.

She
appears to be the leader of the group as she’s first to make a move for us. Letting out a frightening howl, she quickens her advances towards us. Albeit, not a major increase in speed as it seems her apparent cell degeneration is causing her significant problems with her motor functions.

I
’m frozen to the spot, my body stiff with fear. I feel like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Emma is shouting my name and pulling at me to move, but my usual cowardice has made a triumphant return at the worst possible time. If I don’t move I’ll end up like one of the rest of these sickening pukes.

“
Emma get out the emergency exit,” I manage to spit out.

I feel her let go of me
.
Good. Run!At least you might get away safe. You might even think I sacrificed myself to hold these mutants up to give you time to escape
.
It’s the usual story. I dream of being a hero, but when it comes down to it my imagination is as far as my heroism gets. I’m such a pitiful loser.

The wretched
Toma is practically upon me. All I’m able to do is close my eyes in anticipation of what’s to come.

Whoosh! It sounds as though a
jumbo jet has flown by my right hand side. I feel cool droplets speckle across my face.

I open my eyes and before me is a white fog. Thick and scented like chemical
s. The realisation of what’s happening takes a second for my brain to register but as Emma flings the emptied fire extinguisher towards the front of the bus I snap out of my daze.

“Move
,” she barks. I back away from the filthy choking coughs emanating from in front of me and we both make a hasty retreat towards the exit beside the back seat.

I pul
l the bar to release the door and push it open but don’t go any further because awaiting us outside is a mob of at least six more of these infected. A fire extinguisher won’t be enough to save us this time.