Alien Virus

by Steve Howrie

  “Kevin – Sandi. I was wondering if you had any contacts though your magazine for web companies we could trust and approach?” I looked at Sandi for verification of the first and most obvious thought that came to mind. Our magazine had a subsidiary in Sweden, and they ran their own website. Sandi nodded her unspoken confirmation and I turned back to Kate.

  “Yes – someone called Frida Stronson in Malmo. I’m sure she would help – she’s always been well disposed to us. Sandi and Frida are like kindred spirits – they’re the same age, and both have been lactose intolerant from a young age. ”

  “Good,” replied Tony.” During the previous conversation, Sandi had begun to look more and more intense, as if trying to work something out. I asked her if everything was all right.

  “Yes – I just wanted to ask Tony something, if it’s okay?”

  “Sure – fire away. If we’re not holding you up Audrey?” He’d turned to look at the old lady, who smiled.

  “You could never hold me up, Tony. You can stay all night if you want. I’ll make us all a cup of tea.”

  “It was about the virus,” started Sandi. “You said that parts of the World were not as badly affected as others. Was that to do with cultural differences, or the way the virus is transmitted?”

  “Both,” answered Tony. “When the virus first came to Earth, its main affect was in the central belt. As I understood it from Frank, there were two main factors determining the distribution of the virus. One, the spinning of the Earth – which kept the virus away from the poles; and two, the oceans – where the virus feared to tread…”

  “Because of the salt water?” Sandi asked.

  “Exactly that. On top of that, Scandinavia has always had a healthy respect for salt and a high incidence – if that’s the right word – of vegetarianism. All in all, it’s missed out on most of the virus – and that’s what makes it a good place to keep in contact with.”

  “It’s not such doom and gloom then?” asked Sandi.

  “No – except that no–one really ever listens to Sweden, Norway or Finland. As populations go, they’re small fry in an ocean of big fish. But still, we do have strong allies up there. Only mostly they don’t know what going on over here. They just think we’re an unhealthy nation obsessed with salt and government control.”

  Audrey brought in the tea as Tony finished talking to Sandi. She distributed the hot drinks, then said:

  “If we can set this website thing up with Sweden, does that mean we can stay on here?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can Audrey,” Kate replied. “If vaccinations become compulsory in schools and colleges, it won’t be long before old folks homes and workplaces are affected. It’s going to make life very difficult – if not impossible – around here. I’m certainly not going to accept a vaccination knowing that it contains the virus. And the next step’s bound to be home visits. Also, if Tony’s gauged the mood of the government correctly, it’s only a matter of time before possession of salt becomes a criminal offence – and then we’re in trouble. Where do we get sodium from? And without it, we’re open to virus attacks.”

  “Kate’s right,” confirmed Tony. “We can’t stay here for much longer with or without the website. Moving to Sweden is one alternative. But working there isn’t going to be easy for any of us. There must be alternatives in the UK. Anyone got any ideas?”

  We all stopped to consider places in the far reaches of the Country. Then Gareth spoke:

  “I just want to say that I was wrong to be so bloody negative. I don’t want to give you any excuses, but I’ve been having a difficult time with Emily. I thought it was all over, but it wasn’t. Going away somewhere different would personally be the best thing I could do. I’ll even go to Malmo if need be.” We all smiled at Gareth and thanked him for the sacrifice, though it shouldn’t be necessary. Then inspiration hit Kate.

  “Orkney!” We all looked at her quizzically. “My folks used to take me there on holiday when I was young. We flew up from Glasgow, I remember. We could also fly from Edinburgh – or drive up to Thurso and take the ferry. There’s hundreds of islands in Orkney, though not all inhabited, mind.”

  “Which direction are we talking?” Gareth asked. “The Western Isles?”

  “No… the North of Scotland, head for John O’Groats – right at the top, you can’t miss it.”

  “Oh, now I know – Old Man of Hoy and all that. Yes, I’ve seen it on documentaries. Safe enough I would think – particularly if you find one of the Northern Isles. Next to nobody lives there. And we wouldn’t be that far from Norway if we ever need to abandon the place.”

  “Good point Gareth, observed Tony.”

  “And another thing,” said Gareth, now anxious to make up for keeping quiet most of the evening. “Being so near the sea, it might be possible to produce our own sea salt.”

  “Nice one, Gareth,” I said, encouraging him.

  “Sorry to be a complete ignoramus,” apologised Sandi. “But can anyone show me a map of the Orkney Islands? I’ll never know where they are ‘till I can see them.”

  “Just be a minute, dear,” said Audrey, “I’m sure Frank left his old maps here.” A few minutes later she reappeared clutching a few dog–eared Ordnance Survey maps. “There you are – I knew I could find them. They’ll be a few years out of date now, but they should give you a good idea.” We all gathered round the well–worn maps laid out on Audrey’s dining room table. There were dozens of large islands, and scores more tiny ones – no doubt uninhabited.

  After carefully studying the old maps, Tony straightened and said,

  “Kevin – you seem to know something about the area, and Kate’s been there as a child. How about the two of you going to have a look – see what you can find for us?”

  “Great – but what about your work Kate?”

  “I’m only working in Superdrug at the moment – trying to pay back my university loan. If they won’t let me off for a few days, I can always get another job like that.”

  “Then that’s set,” said Tony. “The sooner you can go, the better. Whilst you’re away, I suggest we get in supplies of salt before the ban comes into effect. Can we store stuff at your place Gareth – you’ve got quite a large shed haven’t you?”

  “No problem. I wouldn’t mind a hand rearranging a few things first though – to make a bit of space.” He looked at Sandi.

  “Okay with you Sandi?” asked Tony.

  “Fine, no problem,” she smiled at Gareth.

  “Good, so that’s all arranged then. See you all tomorrow.”

  ***

  Nine

  There was no way of communicating with the alien virus. Frank Peters knew that. He had spent eight years working in the Virology department of Edinburgh University, and in that time had identified both the cause and the effect of the strain – but he could do nothing to alter its behaviour. His colleagues couldn’t entertain the idea that Frank had discovered a virus that originated from outer space. They saw him as a radical eccentric, a misled scientist with wild ideas. No–one was prepared to take him seriously, and his paper on the theory had been refused publication. And why should anyone listen to him? Practically everyone was affected by the disease, and as such they couldn’t see what had become patently obvious to Frank: the virus was not of animal or plant origin and its DNA did not conform to anything else living on this planet – past or present.

  Only one man showed a glimmer of acceptance of the idea – and he was an astrophysicist, not a virologist. Frank met Dr Tony King one day in the Refectory of King’s Buildings – the University’s Science Campus two miles out of Edinburgh City Centre. Frank was sitting having lunch on his own and Tony joined him – one academic making contact with another. Tony had only just recently joined the University’s staff and was keen to make new friends. He’d heard rumours about Frank, but Tony wasn’t the sort of man to be influenced by gossip. They got chatting about the possibility of alien life arriving on Earth – then T
ony said,

  “I’ve often wondered about the effect we might be having on the Universe. There’s so much stuff that we put into space – how do we know for sure that we’re not putting microbes up there that could find their way to other planets supporting life? It happened on our planet in the past: Westerners visiting Asia and South America brought diseases to the natives who had no defence against them. Hundreds of thousands were wiped out then. What if the same happened in space?” Frank sipped his coffee, listening, and then added,

  “Why not – it’s only a matter of scale. I don’t think there’s really any doubt now that there is intelligent life on other planets.” Tony was nodding in agreement.

  “What do you think would happen if a space mission to Venus, say, brought back alien matter to the Earth? How would our immune systems deal with it? Would it cause an epidemic we could never recover from?” Frank thought for a moment wondering whether to test his theories on this man who had crossed his path that lunchtime. They’d only just met, but here was someone who, seemingly, had no preconceived ideas about Frank or his views – and he seemed pretty open minded.

  “It’s already happened,” replied Frank. Tony thought Frank couldn’t have understood his question.

  “Sorry, perhaps I didn’t phrase the question correctly. I was taking about an alien virus from another planet – Venus as an example….”

  “I understand the question, and I’m saying that this planet has already been invaded, taken over, by an alien organism and it is killing millions everyday – man and animals.” Tony sat back in his chair and pondered. So this was what the rumours were about. He wanted to pursue the matter further, but he glanced at his watch.

  “Look Frank – I’ve got a lecture starting in five minutes. What about we meet up later – here or in town. I’d really like to talk more.” Frank got up. He’d had more brush-offs than he cared to remember – one more shouldn’t hurt.

  “It’s okay, I know you must be busy – I’ll see you around…”

  “No,” Tony said firmly, gripping Frank’s arm as he was turning to go. “I really do want to talk about this – seriously, okay?” Frank saw the determination in Tony’s eyes.

  “All right. Five o’clock at the Minto Hotel?”

  “Fine – I’ll see you then.”

  *

  The Minto Hotel in Nicolson Street was a good place to meet. Comfortable chairs and some quiet places to talk. Frank had a half pint of heavy and Tony a gin and tonic. Not being one for social talk, and desperate to start quizzing Frank, Tony went straight into the subject, keeping his voice down.

  “You said we’d already been invaded – what did you mean by that? Invaded by what?”

  “Invaded by a virus, a very intelligent virus that has taken over the minds and bodies of Man – and other animals.” Frank paused – it was a big statement to make and he wanted it to sink in. He continued. “Its survival depends on you accepting it, nurturing it even, defending it. More than anything else, defending it.” Tony was trying to grasp what Frank was driving at.

  “But where is it? In the atmosphere, in the water?”

  “It’s in you, Tony – and seven billion other people on planet Earth, with just a very few exceptions. It’s in your blood, it’s in your brain. It’s controlling you. Only, I don’t think in your case it’s winning. You wouldn’t be here with me now if it was. Do you take much salt?” Tony sighed deeply, like a man caught out for smoking when he’d told everyone he’d given up.

  “I know I should cut down, but food tastes so bland without it. I think it was my mother’s fault. She swore by it for everything – cooking, cleaning, washing. We always brushed our teeth with it, gargled with it and had plenty on our food.”

  “Well, whatever you do – don’t cut down. Your sodium level has saved you.”

  “Saved me? Saved me from what?”

  “From being taken over. The virus is neutralised by salt – I found that out long ago. The moment you reduce our sodium level below a certain point, you’re in trouble.” Tony took a sip of his G&T and thought seriously.

  “What sort of trouble? What does the virus do?”

  “It eats you. It’s a parasite – an alien parasite. It feeds off the body, it feeds off you. It doesn’t want to kill you, because it needs living matter. Then as soon as you’re dead, it moves on to another host.”

  “What are the side effects?”

  “Heart disease, cancer, diabetes, arthritis – to name but a few. All the diseases of modern man. Many diseases, the one cause.”

  “And the one cure?” added Tony hopefully.

  “That’s the problem – there is no cure; not that I know of anyway. Same again?” Tony nodded and Frank went to the bar with two empty glasses. When he came back, Tony had another question.

  “You said that the virus had taken over the mind and bodies of Man… I understand the body side – what about the mind?”

  “The virus has a way of altering thought patterns – like a computer virus that creates alternative programs to run your computer. The alien virus hijacks your thought processes and puts out an alternate mindset to the brain, which then accepts it. In many ways this alternate ‘reality’ is the complete reverse of your normal worldview. For instance – ‘Smoking Causes Cancer.’”

  “You mean it doesn’t?” Tony asked incredulously.

  “No – the virus causes Cancer. Smoking merely aggravates it. But by making smoking – even passive smoking – the cause, attention is diverted away from the virus, which is what it wants. Earth–bound viruses are clever – they can mutate to become immune to just about whatever we throw at them. But they’re nothing compared to this alien virus.” Tony was listening intently, and each question led to another.

  “How did you discover all this?”

  “Ah, that will have to wait to another day – I have to get back. But I hope we can talk again – tomorrow perhaps?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Oh, and don’t stop taking the salt… like this.” Frank wet the back of his hand and sprinkled a few grains from the cellar on the table. Then licked the salt. “There,” he said working it round his mouth. Tony followed suit.

  And that was how it all began for Tony. Their meetings after work became a regular occasion, and it wasn’t long before Frank introduced Tony to his mother Audrey. Through her, they found Gareth – and Kate was next. Eventually, Frank’s job at the University became untenable. His colleagues became more and more vindictive of his research. And when Frank was no longer allowed to tell his undergraduate classes about ‘this fictitious virus’, that was the beginning of the end.

  Tony, on the other hand, was more cautious about the people he spoke to. Their two characters complimented each other in many ways. But when Frank was adamant about going public about the virus, and Tony wasn’t ready to do so, the inevitable rift occurred. Neither Gareth nor Kate wanted Frank to leave, but Tony was more laissez–faire about it.

  “I’m not going to stop him,” he said.

  Audrey tried to talk Frank out of going down to London into ‘Virus Hell Hole’; but he wouldn’t be stopped. That was where the greatest concentration of the virus was, so that’s where he was going to start. On reflection, Frank probably underestimated the power and strength the virus had down there. If people didn’t listen in Edinburgh, he wasn’t going to get much reaction down there either.

  He personally delivered a letter to the Prime Minister, posted circulars to members of parliament, and stood on a soapbox at Speaker’s Corner. He even took a handwritten note to Buckingham Palace for the Queen. He went to every major television and radio station in town, and called at the offices of London’s newspapers. Then, after getting no reaction from those in power, he went directly to the people – speaking to anyone and everyone who would listen. On street corners, in the underground, in museums and art galleries (from which he was thrown out many times) and in pubs – where I met him of course. Most regarded him as one of
those cranks who carry bill–boards saying ‘The End is Nigh’. He didn’t do that – but his message was just as deadly: if people did not wake up to the danger within them, then the end of life on planet Earth was just around the corner.

  Who could say the effect that Frank Peters had on the population of London. Many thousands must have heard him speak – and then there were those who told their families and friends about the strange man who spoke to them on the train, bus or underground as they travelled to and from work. But there’s one thing certain, he gave it his best shot and was an inspiration to us all. In the next phase that was now unfolding, one without Frank Peters, Tony hoped we could achieve just half of what Frank had done in his life, and eventually rid mankind of this unseen virus that was a threat to our very existence.

  ***

  Ten

  After Kate and I had left for Orkney, Sandi invited Gareth out for a coffee. She knew something was troubling him and thought a chat and a drink would do him good. The fact that she fancied him like crazy had nothing to do with it – nothing.

  Gareth took the bus over to Inverleith Row where Sandi was staying, and they walked around the busy streets looking for somewhere outside they could sit and enjoy the air. They found a small Italian café and ordered two large coffees. They chatted amiably about nothing much for a few minutes, then something caught Gareth’s eye.

  “Jesus!” he muttered.

  “What is it?” But before Gareth could explain, a dark woman recognized him and approached the couple hurriedly. It was Emily.

  “Who is this?” she demanded looking at Sandi.

  “This is nothing to do with you,” he replied.

  “Oh, so now I see what’s going on. You just wanted to dump me for her – whoever she is. How long’s this being going on?” She was angry and bitter.

  “Just calm down Emily – that’s not the situation…” Then Emily stepped back in a moment of realization.

  “Wait a minute – I know who you are. You’re the one in all the papers – the one who was abducted!”