by Steve Howrie
“Who sent you?”
“No–one sent me.”
“How do you know Mrs Peters?”
“Is that know in a biblical sense?” The one with the club stepped forward and hit me across the shoulder. “Jesus!” Pain shot through me. It was no time for humour. “I met her son Frank in a bar in London…”
“Which bar?”
“My local – the Bells in Fulham. He just started talking to me.”
“What about?”
I didn’t want to say anything more – I didn’t know these people, and I didn’t know if I could trust them. The one in the chair was getting impatient.
“Answer the question! What did Frank talk about?” The one with the club took a step towards me. I didn’t feel like being a hero and decided that the truth was the best option.
“Aliens – he talked about aliens. Well, an alien virus, anyway. He said we’re all infected – practically the whole of mankind. But he had some sort of immunity – because of his high sodium level. He said that salt neutralizes the virus.” The figures looked at each other. The one with the stick took a step back and the seated one spoke again.
“And did you believe him?” They were all watching me intently now.
“At first – no. But when he mentioned salt, I thought there might be something in what he said…”
“Something for a good story?” the seated one asked, picking up my Press–card.
“I already had a good story – an article ridiculing the ‘salt is bad for you’ myth. But my editor binned it.”
The seated one motioned the other two to his desk and they talked quickly in low voices. One voice was definitely a woman’s. After a couple of minutes, the seated one spoke to me again.
“You’re a journalist, Mr Lee, and we don’t trust the press. There’s only one way to find out whose side you’re on. He nodded towards the one who had been holding the bucket – the one I took to be a woman. She picked up a white dish from the desk and approached me. I soon realized that the dish contained a syringe and I stiffened. The big man with the stick held me down in the chair whilst the other one untied of my arms. I struggled at first, but when I saw the big un’ look over to the table leg, I relaxed. They pulled back my sleeve so the woman could find a vein on my right arm. She quickly pushed in the needle, and then slowly extracted some blood.
She left the room and one of the men tied me up again whilst the other went back to his desk. Who were these people? Were they working for the government? What was their connection with Frank Peters – and where was Mrs Peters?
The female returned after what could only have been a few minutes with another woman, a grey–haired lady in her late sixties or early seventies with no balaclava or boiler suit. The older woman spoke.
“I believe him.”
“He’s clean,” said the one with the syringe, removing her headgear. The two men followed suit, removing their own hoods. One of them came over to untie me.
“We had to be sure, Kevin, we had to be certain,” he said.
*
The grey–haired woman was Mrs Peters. She invited me back to her house, and I accepted. I wanted to find out about these people. Three of them went in a four–by–four with tinted windows, and I followed in my car with one of the guys. Inside Mrs Peters’ house, we sat at a table and the younger woman brought in coffee and a bottle of single malt whisky. I was ready for a drink, I can tell you. The one who had been sitting in the chair at the farm, Tony, seemed to be the leader of the group. He was in his mid–fifties with cropped hair. University educated and English. The other man, Gareth, was a big Welshman who could have probably drunk the bottle of Scotch on his own. He was very apologetic about the table–leg intimidation and said, “You can’t be too careful, y’know.” The younger woman who had held the syringe was a Scot called Kate. Born on the South Side of Glasgow to wealthy parents, she’d recently graduated in Biochemistry from Glasgow University. And she was a beauty. It wasn’t only my blood I wanted to give her. Auburn hair and green eyes betrayed her Irish roots, and her youthfulness and vigour mesmerized me. I struggled to keep my eyes off her.
Mrs Peters – Audrey – was a lovely lady with great feelings for what was right. She knew about the death of her son, but was taking it remarkably well. With coffee and whisky we chatted amiably for a while. Then, after about half an hour, Tony turned to me in a more serious mood.
“Kevin – I know Frank gave you an outline of his findings, but there’s a bit more you should know. Frank was a great man, and we’re all going to miss him – particularly Audrey of course.” He looked across to the old lady. “Frank was passionate about telling people about the virus…”
“It’s true then?” I interrupted. Tony nodded.
“I’m afraid so – everything that Frank told you is true. He left for London because he became a little frustrated with the group.” Kate looked at Tony without smiling. He caught her gaze and continued. “Well, mostly with me, I’m sorry to say. Since we discovered the virus, I’ve always been ultra careful about how we publicized our knowledge – thinking that in the wrong hands it puts us all at risk. Frank understood this, so he went off on his own.” He smiled at Audrey. “Just like Frank, eh Audrey? He had his strong beliefs – stubborn at times – but he’d never drop his mates in it. He never mentioned anything to you about us, did he Kevin?”
“No – not a word.” They all nodded in reverence to Frank. Gareth lifted his glass.
“To Frank.” We all lifted our glasses and toasted their departed friend. Then Tony continued.
“The virus. We don’t know exactly when or where it landed, but we know it arrived on Earth around ten thousand years ago…”
“Ten thousand years!” I exclaimed. Fucking hell, I thought.
“It’s wiped out complete civilizations. Have you ever wondered about what happened to the Atlanteans?” I shook my head. To be honest, I’d never given it a thought. Atlantis was nothing more than a myth in my book. “The virus feeds off its hosts, and can spread quickly. It has been active throughout recent history – from the European plagues of the thirteen hundreds, to the killer flu outbreak of the First World War Now it’s threatening to wipe mankind off the face of this planet.” If Tony wanted my full attention, now he had it. He paused to take a sip from his whisky, giving me time to ask a burning question.
“Why? I mean, what does it gain by destroying us?”
“It’s a parasite. It lives off its host for as long as it can feed itself. When it finally kills the host, it moves on to another. You’ve got to remember this isn’t an Earth–bound virus, Kevin, it’s cosmic, it can travel across universes. Frank believed that it colonized and wiped out other races, in other parts of the Universe, before it came to Earth. It’s got no soul, no sense of right or wrong – it’s just a matter of survival – procreation, and survival.” Tony picked up his whisky again. His glass was nearly empty and Audrey gave him a refill. This gave Katie the chance to speak.
“We know that the virus divides and grows very rapidly. It’s tiny, but deadly – and multiplying in numbers as we speak.”
“When you say ‘tiny’, what scale are we on?” I asked. “Is it the size of a molecule – or as small as a prion. Or something in between – the size of a blood cell, say?”
“Do you know much about Leukemia, Kevin?” I should do – our magazine had written an article about it a few months earlier – and I did some of the research.
“Sure – it’s cancer of the blood. It occurs when the body produces too many white blood cells. Massive numbers of rogue white cells take over the bone marrow and then spill out into the blood stream. If untreated, it’s almost always fatal. They say the name Leukemia comes from the Greek for white blood. What has this got to do with the virus?”
“Kevin, the white blood cells are the virus.”
I was stunned – speechless. How could this be? The white cells are our defences – our antibodies – everyone knew that. Without them
we’d all die. No question. These people must be mistaken – well meaning, but mistaken. Tony could see the disbelief written in my face.
“Didn’t you ever think it was odd that cells which are meant to be your antibodies, your defence against infection and diseases, are also the cause of cancer? You would think that the greater your defences, the healthier you’d become. But according to the medical theories, the more antibodies you have, the more chance you have of disease.”
“But that’s only because of cell mutation,” I countered. “Carcinogens such as tobacco smoke cause some cells to mutate – and instead of being part of our defences, they become rogue operators, attacking the body, breaking it down.”
“And others commit suicide and sort of ‘throw themselves out of the body’,” Kate added.
The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. And then I realized that I was just quoting things I’d seen it one or more of the many magazine articles I’d read. I’d never thought the whole thing out for myself. I paused for a moment then said, “Are you saying that the virus takes over the white blood cells? Leukemia and some cancers are the direct result of the alien virus?”
Tony finished his drink and smiled . “That’s exactly what we’re saying Kevin.” I was stunned… but it all made sense now. “You’ve had a lot to take in already, my friend, and we’ve all had quite a day. I suggest we go and relax now. They’ll be more time to talk tomorrow – if you’re still here?”
“I have to go back on the sleeper tomorrow night – but that leaves me the whole day here.”
“Good – we’ll have time to chat then.”
“One more thing though,” I added as I stood up to go. “I guess the blood test was to find out if I was infected with the virus. What if I had been?”
Audrey, who had been collecting our glasses, stopped and said, “Oh, then we would have killed you. Anyone for more coffee?”
***
Four
The next day I awoke with so much on my mind. Mainly questions. How did the virus get into the body? What exactly did it do when it was there? And why weren’t Tony and the others affected by it? Was it because of salt?
I met the group for lunch at Henderson’s Restaurant in Hanover Street. I was warmly greeted by Kate, who was the first to arrive. She looked more beautiful than ever, and I thought I was falling in love.
“How did you sleep last night, Kevin? No nightmares I hope?”
“No – but lots of questions.”
“That’s normal.” I was suddenly aware of people around us. I glanced around the restaurant then turned back to Kate.
“Is it safe to talk here?”
“Yes – it’s fine. The owner, Jim, is one of us, and no–one pays any attention to anyone else here. If he sees anyone dodgy coming in, Jim usually warns us.” I nodded and smiled at her. Where had she been all my life.
“Tell me, how did you get started in all this Kate?”
She drew a breath. “Oh, it’s a long story. It was through my mother really.” Then she changed the subject. “Have you ordered yet?”
“No – I was waiting for you.”
Just then, Tony and Gareth walked in.
“Hi Kevin – don’t get up. Audrey sends her apologies – her sister’s ill and she gone to Musselborough to see her. Anyone for food? I’m starving.”
“Me too,” added Gareth. We all sat down with our meal and ate without talking for a few minutes. Then I said,
“Y’know, I really want to do something to help. If this is all true – and I have no other explanation for what’s been happening recently – then I’m on your side, and I’ll do anything I can to help stop this virus.” They all nodded their thanks.
“That means a lot Kevin,” acknowledged Tony. “When we lost Frank, we really thought we were up against it. Frank was a great motivator and really put himself around in London. We need someone like you to help get the message out – particularly with your media background.” In the back of my mind I had a worrying thought. If the virus was contained within the white blood cells, then couldn’t we all get infected – to one degree or another – sooner or later? I guess that was what Frank Peters had said. Okay, salt was some sort of neutralizer. But how did we contract the virus in the first place?” Tony gave me the answer.
“It’s through the food chain – or rather, the animal food chain. We eat infected animals, or their produce, and we become infected. Plant life is unaffected by the virus, as are salt water fish. So any fish from the sea is safe.” The salt angle again.
“But how do animals get infected?” I asked. That’s the trouble with us journalists, always having another question to ask.
“At one time, they became infected by being fed parts of other animals. But how animals originally became infected, we don’t really know. We’re talking about ten thousand years ago, remember.”
“Possibly through the fresh water supply?” I ventured. “If the virus arrived from outer space, it would have to land somewhere.”
“Yes, possibly,” replied Kate. “Or it could have just landed on the animals themselves and burrowed through their skin to their blood supply. That’s common with many earthbound parasites.” I couldn’t help thinking how much I’d like to burrow into Kate’s skin. She was everything I could ever want in a woman. But Tony snapped me out of my fantasies.
“This virus is extremely cunning. We believe that it’s able to modify Man’s thought patterns to protect itself. Salt, as Frank told you, neutralizes the affects of the virus. So the virus implants the idea in Man’s brain that salt is inherently bad for us. Now the government has declared a war on salt – ‘the new tobacco’, as they’re calling it.
I sat back in my chair and took a deep breath. This was like finding out about sex for the first time: a whole new awakening that was going to change my life forever. I sipped my tea thoughtfully.
After lunch, Tony had to go off on business, so Kate and Gareth showed me around the City. It was a long time since I’d been to Edinburgh and a few things had changed. I was glad of their company (particularly Kate’s of course) and wished I could stay longer. It was such a pleasant change not to be the cranky one in a sea of conventionality.
When it was time to go, they both gave me a hug and told me – actually instructed me – to stay in touch. Kate gave me her email address and phone number. I promised I stay in contact, and thanked them both for everything. They waved me off on the sleeper to Euston, and I left feeling that somehow we’d meet up again very soon.
*
The next day, I was back at work, and I couldn’t wait to see Sandi to tell her all about the weekend. But she wasn’t there. Then Trevor breezed in, telling me it was good to see me back if I had a good story. And then he broke the news about Sandi.
“What! When did this happen?”
“Saturday morning. She came in to make up for lost time – both yours and hers – and then she suddenly collapsed.”
“Jesus Trevor – why didn’t anyone tell me this before?” I was on the point of outrage.
“We couldn’t just phone ‘Scotland’ – it’s a big country.” I hated Trevor when he hid behind his sarcasm.
“I had my mobile.”
“We tried that, but no reply. We left a message of course.” I pulled out my mobile and checked my messages. There was a message from Judith, the receptionist, but only asking me to phone the office. Shit – I should have checked. “Don’t you check your messages, Kevin?”
“I was tied up at the time. Where did they take her?”
“Fulham General, I believe. I haven’t had the chance to check this morning to see how she is, but she was under sedation when I phoned yesterday.”
God – that was where they took Frank Peters – where Sandi and I had gone last Friday. I just had to go to see her.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I shouted to Trevor as I ran down the stairs two at a time. He called after me,
“Kevin – yo
u can’t just go… we’ve got a magazine to run.”
*
I took a taxi to the hospital, expecting the worst. The fuckers will pump her full of the virus – or even kill her – if they can get away with it. I knew it wasn’t them doing this – it was the virus acting through them. But I just couldn’t help thinking it was people plotting against us.
London on a Monday morning is a nightmare. You can get out of the Capital all right; but just try cutting across it.
“A tenner says you won’t beat that ambulance to the hospital,” I challenged the driver, pointing ahead.
“I’d have to break the law to do that, mate. And the fine would be thirty.” I waved two twenty pound notes in his face and he immediately took a sharp right, speeding down a side lane and then down a one way street – the wrong way. After a hair–raising drive, we screeched to a halt at the main entrance. I paid him the fare and was about to rush inside, when I realized I’d need a lift back.
“Twenty quid says you won’t be here when I get out.”
“You’re on.”
Inside, the mood was subdued, but my mind was racing.
“Sandi Green please.” The Caribbean receptionist looked carefully at a chart then turned back to me without smiling.
“I’m sorry, no visitors – Miss Green is in intensive care.”
“I’m her colleague and friend – I must see her.”
“I don’t care if you’re Santa Claus – the doctor said NO VISITORS, got it?”
“Not even with this?” I produced my press–card.
“Particularly not with that.”
I turned away and sat down in the waiting room, wondering what to do next. I was desperate to get to Sandi, and desperate situations require desperate measures. Noticing a nurse coming out of a door marked ‘Staff Only’, carrying what looked like a medical uniform, I got up and walked slowly to the door. Checking that no–one was looking, I went in. As I had hoped, the room was full of laundered white coats and nurses’ wear. Finding a coat that fitted, I left the room, checking that no–one had noticed me. I thought I looked more like a janitor than a doctor – but anything to get me into see Sandi would do.
