Alien Virus

by Steve Howrie

  “What do you think Gareth?” He looked up from his food, thoughtfully.

  “Well, yes – I suppose so…” he started.

  “I can hear a ‘but’ coming,” I teased.

  “Well, it’s just that… I was thinking on the boat today about what’s going to happen – with the virus and that. When is it going to stop? I mean, do we wait until it’s killed off everyone who’s infected before we do anything?”

  “We’re already doing things,” Kate interrupted impatiently “that’s what the website’s for.”

  “I know that. It’s only… what direct action are we going to take? Okay, we’re telling people about the virus so they can say – ‘Hey, I’m infected – I’ve got to get rid of this.’ But what if they can’t do anything about it – even if they want to?” Frank nodded in understanding.

  “It’s a good point Gareth – I’m glad you mentioned it. Perhaps it’s something that needs clarifying for everyone. I know this may sound crazy, but the virus can only affect its host by invitation. Once it’s accepted, it starts to control things in the body. Over time, the host cells become powerless to stop it. It’s a bit like the wooden horse of Troy. Or, to give a more–up–to–date analogy, a virus invading your computer. Once you accept it as benign – or even beneficial to you, as in the case of our virus – then you’re allowing it free reign to do whatever it wants. You’ve assumed its motives are good and honourable and welcomed it as a friend. So much so, that when things start to go wrong within your computer, or your body, you look for other causes – never thinking it could be the enemy within.”

  “So the first step is to recognize what it really is – an invading enemy that has breached your defences,” added Gareth.

  “That’s right,” continued Frank. Once you do that, you’re on the road to recovery. Your new thought processes will countermand the old orders and instruct your own cells to seek out and destroy – or eject – the invading virus.”

  “And it’s possible to do that?” queried Kate.

  “Yes,” answered Frank. “That’s how we got rid of the virus from our Universe. We discovered a substance that had the effect of boosting each being’s immune system, you could say, and that combined with the understanding that virus was an invading enemy provided an impenetrable barrier for the virus.”

  Kate then recalled something Frank mentioned at the Bothy bar before we came over to Papay.

  “That’s the substance you started to talk about when we were in Kirkwall! You said it was being channeled to Earth to help us.”

  “That’s correct Kate… but now the virus has taken such a strong hold, I don’t think it’s going to help.” Frank replied solemnly. “Once the body is completely overrun by the virus, it’s too late. The invading army is too large, or too strong, and there’s nothing your defences can do about it – with or without that special substance. That’s was how we lost millions of beings on my planet – on your planet.”

  Gareth was now much more alive. “I get it now – thanks Frank. To be honest, I hadn’t realized the value of the website until now. I thought we had to go out and do something – give out leaflets or something.”

  “Well, thanks for bringing up the question Gareth. It’s clarified everything for me too,” I said.

  “And me!” said Kate.

  Liz brought us a treat for dessert – home made ice–cream and strawberries she kept in the freezer from the last harvest.

  “Not as good as fresh – but I hope you like them.” We certainly did.

  *

  As we were clearing up after the meal, someone mentioned Eday. It was now safe to go back to the island, but we’d become so settled on Papay that we didn’t want to move. Liz and Hamish were like part of the family and were enjoying our company as much as we enjoyed theirs. However, memories of Eday brought with them thoughts of Harry and Jo.

  “I do hope they’re all right,” said Audrey as she brought in some freshly brewed tea. “Is there any way we can contact them?”

  “I’ve tried phoning Harry’s mobile many times,” replied Tony, “but he never answers. He could have left it on Eday. I don’t have Jo’s number. At the time, we all thought they’d be coming straight back from London. Then the virus hit the capital.”

  “If I know Jo and Harry, they’ll be all right,” Kate said to comfort Audrey. “They’re very independent and resourceful. Look at the way they dealt with the Police on Eday. They’re probably helping folks down South.” Audrey smiled and kissed Kate on the cheek.

  “Thank you hen,” she said. We chatted about Harry and Jo for a while before turning on the television for the latest news. Things were getting worse.

  ***

  Twenty-Eight

  Two months had passed since the flu virus had hit London, and the capital had all but ground to a halt. Public transport was almost totally abandoned, people preferring to travel in the relative safety of their own cars where possible. Those who did brave the underground trains and buses, wore mask specially made to keep out the virus by some enterprising company. They did little good, but everyone agreed they were better than nothing. Those who could still hold down a job, were disinfected and screened for flu symptoms as they arrived at work. But almost everyone had the virus and it seemed just a matter of time before London society collapsed altogether.

  With Council services running at emergency level only, rubbish had accumulated in the streets and was an additional health risk. Rats, seemingly immune to the virus, were carriers of it. But then, so was just about every animal in London – including Man. The news services that were still running, drew comparisons with the flu epidemic of 1918, and the Black Death of the sixteen hundreds. But this was not just any ordinary flu virus… it was an alien parasite that was feeding off humans, affecting their minds. ‘Eat more meat and stay away from salt – it’s poisonous’, people were repeatedly told – doing exactly what the virus wanted. Newspapers and magazines had virtually stopped running because it was thought that the virus could be transmitted by paper. Most people got their information from the Internet, which was still in operation, though sites were not being updated as much as usual. The worst place was Central London, which was rapidly becoming a no–go area. It wouldn’t be long before it was closed down altogether.

  After leaving Sandi in Finchley eight weeks ago, Harry and Jo had hardly left Carshalton where Jo’s mother Valerie lived. They’d phoned Sandi a few times to make sure she was all right, but they’d not looked up any of their old friends. Val was not well at all. She lived alone, with her husband dying of heart disease some five years previously. Val’s neighbour Mary had been looking after her since Val became ill. Now Mary was sick with the flu, and was struggling to look after Val and herself. Mary was therefore greatly relieved to see Harry and Jo.

  “You know, I don’t know what I would have done if the pair of yous hadn’t come down from heaven,” she said in her Londonised Irish accent.

  “Actually, we came down from Orkney Mary,” Harry jested. “Heaven’s a bit further north.” Harry always liked to have a bit of fun with Val’s neighbour.

  “Now, you go and get yourself to bed with a stiff brandy and a good book. We’ll look after Val from now on,” said Jo.

  “Ah, you’re so good to me Jo, so you are. Just like your old ma. And I won’t say no to the brandy.” Val left, coughing into her paper tissues. Harry involuntarily moved back to avoid any bacteria, or whatever it was coming out of Mary. But it was no different to that which had come out of Val during the past week. Only now Val was struggling to get rid of anything. The virus was sinking its teeth into her weakened body. Jo went to the bedroom and smiled at Val.

  “Mary’s gone home…” the startled look on Val’s face made Jo realize straightaway what this meant to Val. “I mean, back to her own house. There’s nothing wrong with you mum – this was just a ploy to get us to visit you, right?” Jo knew that was far from the case, but lightening the situation seemed to be the bes
t thing. Val might not have many days left.

  “You’re right, of course it was dear,” she replied weakly. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

  Jo got Val some hot soup whilst Harry began to tell her about their latest adventure on Eday. When he mentioned salt, she interrupted him.

  “You know, I always used to think salt was good for you – that you needed it. They used to tell us it was essential for life. But you see how wrong people can be – it’s not good for you at all, it can kill. It’s probably what’s killing me now…”

  “No,” said Harry firmly. “That’s not true Val, it’s the complete opposite. Salt is good for you, it’s essential for life. They’ve got it all wrong today.” But nothing he said to try to convince her had any effect. Jo brought in the steaming hot soup for Val as Harry was shaking his head. Seeing her face light up at Jo, he smiled at the old lady. “Enjoy your soup mum.”

  *

  Sandi didn’t know what to do with all her things. In one way, she wanted a completely fresh start, throwing out everything she didn’t use. But when it came to sorting the ‘in’ from the ‘out’, she just couldn’t do it: the ‘in’ pile got bigger and bigger. ‘Oh this is useless, fucking useless’, she thought.

  As regards her job, Trevor had fallen seriously ill with the virus; and with no editor – and no–one to take his place – no magazine. Not that she would have wanted to go back to Central London – now the virus was overrunning the City – but the money would have been nice.

  Life retained some semblance of normality in Finchley, though few people walked the streets. When they did, they were mostly alone, and nearly always wearing masks of some kind, either the commercial variety or home–made protection. She’d been to ATMs a couple of times to check her balance and withdraw cash; but apart from that, she didn’t go out. Except to one particular place.

  Just past the golf range on the High Road was now the busiest place in East Finchley: the local cemetery. It was somewhere Sandi had visited every week for the past five years, rain or shine, whenever she was at home. It was where her mother was buried. And now with the virus ravaging Londoners, business was brisk for the undertakers. Only the bodies were not being buried – cremation was thought to be the safest means of disposal.

  Sandi walked through the entrance, with opened wrought–iron gates at either side and headed for the place she could locate with her eyes closed. She leant over the well–tended grave and replaced the dead roses with bright red and yellow tulips. She smiled down at the headstone and whispered a few words. About ten metres away, a dark–haired woman was standing over a gravestone, her head in one hand. She was crying. Her sobbing attracted Sandi’s attention. At first she tried to ignore the woman, respecting her privacy. But as the crying became louder, she walked over to the woman.

  “I’m sorry to intrude – but I couldn’t help…” The woman’s all–consuming grief had made her oblivious to Sandi’s presence.

  “Oh, I’m sorry – I didn’t realize…” she quickly dried her eyes.

  “It’s okay, I think I know how you feel. Sandi looked back to her mother’s grave, and the woman followed her gaze. She nodded in understanding. “Look,” said Sandi, turning back to face the woman, “I’m just going for a coffee – or something stronger...”

  “Something stronger sounds good,” the woman replied with a brave smile. Sandi returned the smile, and they walked out of the cemetery back to the High Road.

  “I’m Sandi, by the way.”

  “Sara.” They stopped momentarily and shook hands.

  “Aren’t you worried about the virus?” Sandi asked, referring to Sara’s willingness to shake hands.

  “No – not from you. I can usually tell. And if I do get it and die, it won’t be so bad.” Sandi said nothing. They walked in silence to the first pub and looked in. The atmosphere was not good and a couple of people were coughing. They closed the door and left quickly.

  “I tell you what,” said Sandi, “I’ve got a bottle of something back at my place – and I live just down the road.” Sara hesitated, so Sandi added, “Okay, okay – the truth is I’m a serial killer and I need just one more victim to make the Guinness Book of World Records.” Sara’s frown quickly turned into a laugh.

  “Well, all right then – wouldn’t want to deprive you of a world record.”

  Sandi’s rented flat was above a dress shop. She used to share the apartment with a friend from College, until she left London to work for some Government agency in Cardiff. And after that there was me, of course.

  “Here – let me take your coat.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Red or white?” Sandi asked.

  “Whichever’s the strongest,” replied Sara.

  “Red then.”

  Whilst Sandi got the wine and glasses, Sara perused the lounge. Sandi had photographs of Marti and me, and one of her mother.

  “Thanks,” said Sara as Sandi handed her a glass of Chilean Cabernet–Merlot. She sipped the deep red wine. “Mmm, nice.” She paused for a moment whilst Sandi settled down. Then, indicating the photograph of me, she started, “You said you understood… at the cemetery…was he the reason?”

  “Kevin? Oh god no. I wanted him dead a few times, but he kept bouncing back. Not enough rat poison I guess. No, it was my mum,” Sandi picked up the framed picture and showed it to Sara, who looked at it carefully.

  “She’s got kind eyes.”

  “Thanks,” nodded Sandi. “A pity they didn’t rub off on me.” Sara smiled. She liked Sandi from the moment they met – she felt relaxed in her company; and with both women experiencing the death of somebody close to them, there were no pretentions, no political correctness and no false sympathy.

  “It was my husband – John. One year to the day. But it seems like just last week. I don’t know where the months have gone.” Tears began to well in her eyes again with the recollection. Sandi moved over to sit next to Sara on the sofa and put an arm around her.

  “It’s okay, you’ll see him again – one day.” If Sandi wanted to get Sara’s full attention, she had it now.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I.. I don’t know exactly. But I do believe it.”

  “Do you think we’re reborn?” asked Sara. For a moment Sandi didn’t know what she believed. Did she believe that Steve Saunders was Frank? No, definitely not. Did she believe that aliens were inhabiting the Earth? No, not really. Did she believe a deadly, alien virus was rife throughout the Earth – and would destroy Man? Well, possibly. But what about after death? What happens to you, to your Soul, when you die? Where is her mother now? Certainly not in the soil she had just visited. “Sandi?”

  “Oh, sorry – I was miles away. I was thinking about Orkney…”

  “You’ve been to Orkney?” Sara asked suddenly excited.

  “Yes… have you been there?”

  “No, but I’ve always wanted to. John and I planned a trip to the islands, and then… well, you know… Tell me what it’s like.” Sandi described everything she could remember about her trip to Orkney. The treeless green landscape, the grey stone buildings, the beautiful sunsets over the islands, the old worldly Stromness, and the capital city Kirkwall. Then the short trip to Papay, and finally the island of Eday. “I’d love to go,” said Sara with a heartfelt sigh.

  “Then come with me…”

  “What? You’re going back?” Sara couldn’t believe her luck. Sandi nodded.

  “Yep – as soon as I’ve sorted my things out. I know a couple of people who are driving back next week – they’re giving me a lift in their Landrover. There’s plenty of room for one more.”

  “Are you sure they won’t mind?”

  “No, it’ll be fine. Here…” Sandi filled both their glasses. “To Orkney and us.” They chinked glasses.

  “Orkney and us,” repeated Sara, “and a new found serial killer.”

  “I’ll drink to that!” Sandi laughed.

  ***

  Twenty-Niner />
  Jo stared out of the window as men in white uniforms and matching facemasks lifted the stretcher into the ambulance. Val had gone home. Harry hugged Jo warmly.

  “She’s gone to a better place now love.” Jo nodded between the tears. She felt guilt, terrible guilt, for moving away up to Orkney and leaving Val. It wasn’t rational, but still she felt it. Her mind was full of ‘if onlys’. “There’s nothing more we could have done,” Harry added. Again Jo nodded. Her rational half knew this was correct; but her emotional side just felt remorse. “Come and sit down,” said Harry softly. She did as he directed, and he poured her a large brandy and a mug of coffee. Her mind was spinning, stomach churning. She didn’t want the drinks – she wanted to be sick. But Harry lifted the glass to her lips and she sipped the fiery liquid. In a few seconds, it began to numb the mental pain. Harry sipped his own drink, then looked at her squarely. She was still looking out of the window.

  “Jo, look at me. I know this has only just happened – but it’s been coming for weeks. She wasn’t getting any better, you know that. I think that now she’s gone, we should go back to Orkney – as soon as possible. Jo looked away from the window and stared at Harry. Her expression said ‘it was too soon.’ “I know what you’re thinking,” he continued, “But it’s for the best. We need to get back to Orkney – it’s where we belong, and where we’re needed now. I’m not saying we shouldn’t have come down to London – we had to do that. Wherever Val is now, she’ll never forget what you did you her. But now it’s time to return home.” Jo knew Harry was right: he was always right. She nodded and dabbed her eyes with a tissue, then took a deep breath.

  “Okay,” she said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it firmly. “Thanks Harry – thanks for coming down with me. I know it wasn’t easy for you – I know you wanted to stay with the others; but I really appreciated it.”

  “I’ll do anything for you Jo,” he said. And she knew he meant it.

  *

  The next morning, Harry phoned Sandi to see if she was ready to return to Orkney.