Weep (Book 1): The Irish Epidemic

by Brady, Eoin

  “The one thing they’ve not said yet, is what it is. A flu? Ebola? Or something new?” Rebecca said.

  Fin stopped surfing through the channels and switched back to the national news station, where already the pundits were dissecting a new story. “It has been confirmed that the disease is airborne. Ensure you isolate sick family members. Cover your face and eyes if possible while doing so. At this point health professionals are assuming it can be spread through saliva, whether it’s a cough or a sneeze. Early symptoms are deceptively similar to the onset of a cold or flu. If you are concerned, avoid hospitals – those are quarantine zones. If you are showing signs of infection – sore throat, runny nose, normal flu maladies – then avoid going out in public. The government has established an online and phone service to reach out and let them know where you are. They will have people to you as soon as possible.” The health official sat in silence behind the news desk. The interviewer was stunned, any words she tried to form came out as “eh.”

  Noises echoed through the empty hotel, setting Rebecca on edge. “I honestly don’t know how you work here at night by yourself.”

  “It’s not so bad. Usually the place is full of people sleeping – you’re never really alone. The noises you hear are from pipes settling.”

  It was soon reported that the Irish Army was now involved. Fin was not sure if that put him at ease or just made the gravity of the situation more apparent. Despite the danger, cameras followed all manner of hospital staff as they arrived to help, a legion of medical personnel, but they were vastly outnumbered by the sick. Ambulance sirens blared like wailing banshees stuck in a quagmire; people drove family and friends to the hospital, abandoning cars, blocking the roads.

  “People give out that the health service is stretched to breaking point on an average day,” Rebecca said. “What madness would make somebody bring their loved ones to a place that’s guaranteed to have the infection?”

  “You’re forgetting the storm. Maybe they don’t have power, and they don’t know what they’re heading into.”

  Video footage leaked from inside a hospital A&E in Dublin. There were too many people, not nearly enough gurneys. People were crammed tightly together. Many lay on the ground, blocking the orderlies. Those that were not sick were part of an angry group, mobbing the reception desk for answers.

  “Look at this,” Rebecca turned her phone screen towards him. A switchboard from a call centre was lit up, the sound of ringing phones was deafening. “That’s from one of the centres the government set up. The person who posted the video wrote that most of them are going unanswered. There’s too many of them.”

  By early morning, enough people had died that the general consensus was: this is something entirely new. Hearing that did not shock Fin as much as when they announced that all public transport was suspended.

  “I don’t feel well,” Fin said.

  “That’s because we’ve stayed up all night drinking.”

  An interview with a bereft mother with clear signs of infection set Fin to pacing. “The fever was so hot, it burned the soul out of my little girl.”

  Fin put the back of his hand against his forehead. He had no idea what a normal temperature was. “We could be sick. Think of the amount of people that have been through these doors in the last week.”

  “Shh.” Rebecca looked around as a new expert came on.

  “The actual cause of death in the cases we’ve studied is from pulmonary complications.” The expert looked like she would say more, but cleared her throat and changed into something rote learned. “This microbe kills the host. It is something the body has no experience dealing with. The lungs – I have never witnessed anything like the damage this causes.” The interview was cut and a different story took its place.

  No station would show autopsy photos, but they, too, leaked online. Fin could have been shown the inside of a normal lung and still think it horrifying, but the infected organ was absolutely destroyed, filled with what looked like a pale, fuzzy fungus.

  “It is spread through bodily fluids. Watch out for bites.” The newscaster had no time to digest that information off-screen before reading it on the teleprompter. His reaction to it was emblematic of a nation of people only waking up.

  “Did he say bites?” Rebecca asked.

  There was no filter on the internet; videos and images were becoming more graphic. One short clip showed a man restrained at home, his palms bloody from clenching his fists so hard that his fingernails dug into his flesh. The undersheet on the bed was saturated with sweat, urine and smeared blood from the wounds. His cough sounded like his lungs were congested. The autopsy image came to Fin’s mind.

  “Incredibly short incubation period.”

  “…Ports closed.”

  “…Panic.”

  “…What is the government's response?”

  “Travellers detained.”

  “Embassies across the world warn against traveling to Ireland.”

  Exhausted, Fin looked away from the screen.

  “I can’t get through to my Mam,” Rebecca said. Her face was pale, her eyes red and puffy.

  Fin swallowed the lump in his throat and walked a bit away from her, breathing shallowly through his nose. What if we are infected? “The storm is interfering with the connection. Or the networks cannot take the strain. Don’t worry about your family, most of the country is still asleep at this hour. Plus, we’re hearing about this in the big cities. Dublin, Galway and Belfast. Those have massive populations, it’ll take a while for it to get out to Achill Island. Aren’t there more sheep than people out there? Your folks are safe,” Fin said.

  “Oh my God, Fin, I wasn’t thinking. Your family are in Dublin.”

  “Close, they’re in Drogheda, between Dublin and Belfast. It’s the biggest town in the country. You can see the hospital from our back garden.” He saw Rebecca lift her hand to try and console him, but she lowered it awkwardly.

  “And Solene?”

  “She’s fine.” He said it in such a harsh tone that Rebecca did not question him. He dialled her number again but it went straight to voicemail.

  Fin noticed the sleeve of Rebecca's arm was rolled up and the flesh was raw and bruising where she pinched. You’re not dreaming.

  “I’m not touching anything in that lobby. This whole hotel has to be riddled with germs,” she said.

  “It works quick enough that if we had it, we’d know by now. I don’t think there’d be any question about it. I feel sick, but I think that’s just from watching what’s happening. How are you feeling?” Fin asked. He took a deep breath, just to see if he could feel anything growing in his lungs. Everything seemed fine.

  She shrugged. Each time she swallowed, she seemed to be on the brink of vomiting.

  “If it puts your mind at rest, there’s a layer of dust half an inch thick on the function room bar. It hasn’t been used in weeks. We could bring up some cots from storage and stay there,” Fin said.

  They checked behind the bar to see if it was a viable place to sleep. The function room was a large open space, with old carpet, worn in front of the stage. It was filled with stacks of chairs and folded tables.

  “Am I being paranoid, wanting to stay in here?” Rebecca said.

  “The news did not leave much room for anything other than paranoia.”

  The sound of a blaring car alarm drew their attention outside, its wail nearly lost in the wind. Squinting through the window, Fin could see a shadow moving on the road. He would have missed it had the person not stumbled beneath a street lamp. The true force of the storm could be seen as she struggled against it. Her clothes whipped in the wind, she stumbled and fell beside the car she set off.

  “Should we help?” Rebecca said, just as the lights went on in the house where the car was parked.

  When the front door opened, a warm glow spilled onto the street. The prone person just stared at the blinking indicator. A couple braced the door against the wind and motioned for the person t
o come inside. She stumbled towards them, tripped and fell over the front step. A man lifted her up as his partner closed the door behind them.

  “Can you imagine having to deal with her in the middle of all this,” Fin said.

  Rebecca did not come away from the window. “Do you think they know about what’s happening? The storm will have cut power to a lot of places.”

  “They had lights. Everybody has phones, the first thing they would’ve seen when they check their phones would have been the government messages. I’d say she’s just drunk,” Fin said. “I often see people stumbling home at all hours. The disease hasn’t gotten this far.”

  Fin checked his phone throughout the night but had not received a message from his parents or sister. He imagined them curled up in their beds, warm and snug against the storm. I’ll let them sleep. No point in waking them. Let them have a few more hours of peace before they learn of this. There was also the worry that if he woke them, they might go check on others. Torn over the decision, he thought it best to try. Tell them everything he saw online. Put enough fear in them, so they would barricade themselves in safety. When he checked his phone, he saw a voice message from Solene. The small hairs across his body stood on end. If he did not open it, she was still okay. Things are fine. She just wants to know how the cats are getting on, that’s all.

  Noticing the change in him, Rebecca looked at his screen. “Play it,” she said.

  Fin opened it before the screen could go dark from disuse. He wanted to let it hibernate, put it in his pocket and forget all about it, but he knew it would be harder to open after that.

  The audio crackled, wind or static. Solene could barely be heard over all the noise behind her; horns blared and people shouted – she was in a crowd. Breathless from crying, she spoke his name. It sounded like there was a scuffle and she lost the phone. The microphone picked up the fall and continued recording for a few more seconds. It was muffled but he knew it was the sound of trampling feet.

  Rebecca’s expression confirmed it for him. “I don’t think she was weeping. She could have just been crying.”

  “Yeah.” He sat down and rang her number until his battery died.

  5

  Last Minute Shoppers

  “I need to go home,” Rebecca said, breaking a long period of silence. Neither of them even tried to sleep, switching out alcohol for coffee at around daybreak. Both of them threw up in the guest bathroom. This caused an excruciatingly long hour of worry, wondering if they were infected or not. In the end, they put it down to seeing the video footage from the streets of Dublin.

  “It’s light enough out. The worst of the storm has passed us by. The roads won’t be too bad. I can get there. Did you hear me? Fin?”

  He started, his forehead slipping on the cold window where he leaned. His mouth was dry. “People are already outside. I’ve never seen so many cars on the road at this hour.”

  “I’m leaving, Fin. My family are probably worried, and I can’t have them going out looking for me and coming to harm. It must be safer than here. What’s your plan?”

  “The buses and trains aren’t running and I don’t drive. I’m stuck here.” The thought struck him hard.

  “Come with me. We can take food from storage here and a few crates of water. We’ll be in Achill within an hour, but we have to leave now, before the traffic gets bad. The roads will be tricky enough if the storm blocked them.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “We’ll go slow. The gardaí won’t be out stopping cars, not today.”

  “If we do this then not only will we both lose our jobs, but neither of us will have enough saved to deal with the lawsuit the owners will put on us,” Fin said.

  “They’re welcome to. This isn’t normal. Nobody’s going to prison for taking a bit of food. If we don’t take it, then others will. I don’t want to leave you alone. Come with me, please.”

  “We’re safe here, why not bring your family?”

  “You’ve seen the news, they’ve advised people to stay away from public spaces.”

  “Exactly! They’ll be too afraid to loot here – not that it’ll come to that.”

  “We don’t know if the infection is already in the hotel. You said it yourself, somebody was sick here recently.”

  Fin went pale. “I forgot all about him.” He could still remember the heat radiating from him. But he’s gone. “You’re right. We found him in the basement and took him up the service elevator. That leaves the food down there out. It’s mostly vending machine stuff.”

  “Good, I’m glad you’re coming. Your family and Sol… They would be happier knowing you were on the island. It’s perfect – there’s only one bridge to the mainland and plenty of open space and a small population.”

  There was too much to take in. He was certain that David was infected. Solene was still not answering his calls. He charged his phone and tried to contact his parents, but they too were silent. None of his friends responded to his messages. When Rebecca was out of earshot, he played back Solene’s voicemail; he was not certain if the people shouting in the background were French or Irish. Is she still in the country or has this spread already?

  Rebecca checked her pockets to make sure she had everything. Fin stopped, remembering his responsibilities in the apartment. “I have three cats at home, I can’t just leave them.”

  Rebecca turned on him. “How can you not be taking this seriously?”

  Her anger made him think that she would go ahead without him. The prospect of staying in the hotel terrified him. He imagined watching her drive away, leaving him alone with all those empty rooms. “Solene stocked our apartment with food before she left,” he said, hoping that he could entice her enough to make a detour to his apartment. “I feed the cats and we bring all of that food with us. Are you sure your parents won’t mind me staying?”

  That softened her. She looked relieved. “I promise you, they won’t mind. That sounds like a plan. Let’s get some breakfast before we start packing. I need more coffee in me. I’m not sure I could walk straight, let alone drive.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Fin said.

  Food sat uneasily in his stomach, and bile rose regularly to burn his throat, but he felt better after eating. His head pounded from the drink. His jacket was still damp from walking to work the previous night. They wrapped kitchen towels over their faces as makeshift masks. He caught sight of his reflection in the lobby window and wondered how so much changed in such a short time.

  “Come on,” Rebecca said through the open car window. The windscreen wipers were frantic, the heater in her car rattled.

  He checked his jacket for the keys one last time. The jingle in his pocket was reassuring. With the car boot and back seats full of stolen supplies, Fin unlocked the gates. Rebecca pulled out onto the road, while Fin fumbled with the keys, locking the gates behind her. For a moment, he feared that she would drive off without him. Cameras watched and recorded everything they did. The guilt he felt leaving his post fizzled to nothing. He knew when this ended, nobody would care.

  Inside the car was immaculately clean, the pungent air freshener compounding his hangover headache. As he watched the hotel shrink in the rear-view mirror, his thoughts raced to horrible places, like rabbits running down a snake-infested burrow. Rebecca slowed down outside the house where the couple had helped the woman in the night. The front door was open, the lights were still on, but nothing moved.

  “Do you think she was infected?” Rebecca asked.

  “I think kindness is likely to get you killed.” It sounded stupid, but not far from true.

  Rebecca weaved across both lanes to avoid downed branches and upturned rubbish bins. She drove carefully, sticking to five below the speed limit. Glancing in the mirror, Fin saw a line of cars speeding towards them. The lead car lay on the horn. A driver behind him sped up and changed lanes to overtake them. He did not see the oncoming truck. The car crumpled against the truck; the sudden sound of tearing, screeching met
al nearly caused Rebecca to lose control of the car. The airbags in both vehicles blossomed. Horns blared behind them. Nobody stopped.

  The truck driver crawled out of the passenger door. Aside from a limp and a bloodied face, he seemed okay. He walked away from the crash. Fin looked back at the truck driver and thought the driver was looking off towards town, not at his truck. Flashing blue lights lit up the surrounding houses. Rebecca cursed but the Garda car parted the traffic, ignored the accident and sped off towards the quay.

  “What the hell’s going on?”

  Traffic already clogged the streets. Cars were packed with bags and worried faces.

  “This was a bad idea,” Rebecca said. She locked the doors and hunched over the steering wheel.

  “Just relax, we’ll be okay. Let’s rest in my apartment for a few hours, until the drink wears off and the roads clear.” He ran his finger over the buttons on the radio.

  “Please don’t, I can’t listen to any more.”

  They did not need the radio. All he had to do was look at the panic in the people around him. Things were not getting better.

  “Where do you think all of those people are going?” Fin asked.

  “Home? A lot of them are down for the holidays. If I had the money I’d be looking to get on a plane and get out of here. I don’t need to pay to park, do I?” Rebecca asked as they turned into the car park behind Fin’s apartment. She picked up more speed there than on the roads around town.

  “I honestly don’t think the ticket inspector will be doing his rounds today.”

  “This is probably the best time for it. Nobody will be thinking of paying.”