by Brady, Eoin
“You might get a cold once a year when the body adapts to it but this thing kills.” Rebecca sounded exasperated.
“How are yous set for everything over there?” Fin asked.
Matthew looked up and down the street again to see if anybody else was listening. Fin saw the small window of the apartment next to theirs was open a little. Matthew stepped back out of view of everybody but Fin and Rebecca. “We haven’t got anything here, few bags of rice and noodles. We’re supposed to be heading to my family for Christmas.” While he was saying that he was nodding his head, letting them know that they were okay for everything. “What about you guys?”
“Same,” Rebecca said.
“Say, do you want something to garnish that rice with?” Fin asked. He threw the potted herbs to them.
“Cheers, buddy,” Matthew said after catching the basil. “We’ll chat to yous tomorrow. Stay safe.”
They seemed reluctant to close their window and leave the comfort found in the company of others. They left their curtains open, and Fin saw them sit back down in front of the TV, holding hands and leaning against each other. He felt Solene’s absence like a vital loss.
Rebecca closed the window and the blinds, not wanting the couple to see that they were packing to leave.
“Can you believe they’re actually thinking of going to the quarantine zone?” Rebecca asked. She emptied the presses of what little dry food there was left, dropping everything on the sofa to sort out.
“Never mind the hospital, that talk about self-infecting to build immunity was madness. They’re just worried. The army’s there, people in charge that will tell them what to do. It’s appealing. The alert messages on our phones just tell us to remain indoors. It’s not really helpful if you’re hungry with no food or sick with no medicine.”
“We can’t help everyone, Fin.”
“I wasn’t suggesting we do. I don’t want to get sick and I don’t want you to either. I want to get where we’re going, lock the doors and wait for this whole thing to end.”
“Let's get to it then.”
When the cats ate their fill, Fin topped them up again. “They’re probably worried right now, wondering why I’m not chasing them with the brush.”
With an absent smile on her face, Rebecca watched him vigorously pet Mooch. “Do you really chase them with a brush?”
“If you ever plonked your bare ass on my pillow, you’d get the brush too. They’re cute, but they’re nowhere near as cute as other people's cats.” He sat on the floor and rubbed them while they ate. “Good luck, guys.”
Before leaving, he opened a downstairs window for them to climb out, if they needed to.
“They might bring the infection back in with them,” Rebecca said.
“Other than to feed them, I’ve no intention of coming back until this is over. If something happens to me, I don’t want them trapped.”
“All this time at work you’ve been giving out about the cats,” Rebecca said.
“I’ve been annoying them since they were kittens. I got a little attached.”
With the remainder of their food packed up, they went through the wardrobe for the warmest clothes. There were work shirts, pants and uniforms they could use in the hotel, along with a utility room full of washing machines and dryers to clean the clothes. “Are you sure she won’t mind?” Rebecca asked.
“Given the circumstances, she can’t.”
“I like her,” Rebecca said. She found one of the small notes Solene had left.
“What does it say?”
“Turn off the water heater.”
Fin laughed. “That’s not one for me, that’s a daily reminder she wrote for herself. I hope she’s okay.” He left the heater on for the cats.
They tied scarves over their faces and wore thick yellow cleaning gloves. They helped tape each other’s closed at the wrist. When there was nothing left to do, they stood in the dark by the door, not wanting to turn any lights on at the front to draw attention to the house. Rebecca had a duffle bag over her shoulder, Fin had an old rucksack on his back, both carried a bag of spare clothes.
“You have the hotel key?” Rebecca asked.
He took it out of his pocket and made a show of zipping it back securely. A light drizzle fell. The wind barely rippled across the face of puddles. The car park beyond the courtyard was empty. Not even the local cats prowled.
Rebecca checked her watch. “It’s two now, we can wait a bit longer if you want, but I’ve not seen anybody for a while. Should we go?”
Fin nodded and stepped out into the night, quietly closing the door behind them. He was careful with the bags, so the tins inside would not make noise. They were nearly through the courtyard when a window opened two apartments down from his. “Hey, where are yous going?”
They froze, worried others would be drawn by talking. Fin’s hood was up, and it dawned on him too late that he should have pretended not to have heard his neighbour and just keep walking.
Rebecca broke the silence. “We’ve been infected. We’re going to the quarantine zone in Castlebar for treatment.”
It worked beautifully. The window slammed shut and the curtains closed so quickly that the hooks screeched across the rail. They stepped through the broken door into the empty streets. Apartments rested on top of dormant shops and restaurants. Every window was dark and lifeless. There was no way of skirting the car park without being visible to dozens of homes.
“That was well done,” Fin said in the middle of the field of tarmac.
“It just came to me, and now they won’t think of looting your place.”
“You think it will get that bad?”
“Maybe,” she shrugged.
Without the storm, the world was eerily quiet. Their footsteps echoed around the amphitheatre of empty windows. When Rebecca unlocked the car, lights flashed. The road beyond the car park was blocked by empty vehicles; they would have to walk to the hotel with as much food from the boot as they could carry. Fin closed it quietly, leaving most of the supplies behind.
All day they watched the streets for infected, but it was impossible to tell them apart from healthy people. Not a soul wandered the roads so late. Rebecca gave his hand a squeeze on the bank of the main road. “We can do this.”
Fin squeezed back, his courage bolstered by the knife in his fist. Confident that the way was clear, they turned left. Fin took a final look at his home. She’s right, we wouldn’t last there.
The only sign of life came from inside the Garda station. Light blared from an upstairs meeting room. Half the squad cars that usually idled in the lot were gone. Out on patrol. Fin remembered the car that flew by the crash the other morning, going so fast it nearly became a part of it. An officer watched them from the top floor of the station, his shirt dark with sweat. The fabric strained around the buttons across his belly, like he did not belong in it. Fin waved to show they were not infected. The officer spoke into a radio.
“They’re earning their money,” Rebecca said.
“If I was a cop or a nurse, I’d be calling in sick for the next while,” Fin said. “What makes you go where others actively avoid?”
“They’re cut from a different cloth. Nothing will have prepared them for this, but they’re willing to try, suppose that’s all it takes,” Rebecca said.
“Best of luck to them.”
“Stay where you are.” They spun to face whoever called for them to stop. The young guard was too loud. Fin’s heart was having difficulty getting back into a steady rhythm.
“I said, stop!”
Behind the approaching officer, a small group of people loitered at a side entrance to the station. They seemed ready to shut it at the slightest upset. The main entrance was completely barricaded. Infected don’t shout at you to stop. They don’t carry guns.
“Are you infected? Speak quickly or I will shoot,” he kept checking the roads, the gun trembling in his hands.
“There’s a good man,” Rebecca said, her voice q
uavered.
What are you doing? Fin had never been so close to a firearm before, but he had a good idea how they worked.
“I have a live video feed going at the moment,” Rebecca said. She held up her phone, Fin knew she could not have turned the camera on in time. “You and your badge number are currently starring. Now, we just need you to shoot us and this will go viral.”
The officer seemed less sure of himself. “There’s a curfew in place.”
“And I see you’re adhering to it inside your station, instead of enforcing it.”
Don’t push it.
He lowered his weapon. “Where are yous heading this late?”
“Leaving where the infected are,” Fin said.
“Well you’re heading straight towards them. They’re everywhere.”
“We came in along the Greenway from Newport earlier. Saw a few of them heading towards town,” Fin said.
“We had barriers up, but what are we supposed to do, shoot everybody with a runny nose?”
Rebecca pointed the lens of her phone away from his face, in return for him holstering his weapon. “How bad is it?”
“Chaos. Of those that decided to stay here, half regret it. They want to break up supplies and part ways. The station is packed with family members, there’s not a chance that place is free of infection. We’re just waiting for the army to come through and set things straight. Stations across the country are going dark.” His eyes wandered down to the bags they carried. “Is that food you have there?”
There was a brief, awkward silence before Fin started coughing. He lifted his bag-laden hand to cover his mouth. Rebecca flinched and drew away from him, giving weight to the lie. The officer stepped back, all familiarity gone. He looked to his superior officer, watching proceedings from the upstairs window. “Go, leave.”
Rebecca kept her phone on the officer as he ran back inside and locked the door behind him. Once out of view of the station, they ran up the steep cycle path of the Greenway, leading straight to the quay and their hotel. Not stopping to see if they were followed, they walked briskly through a tunnel that would have seemed ominous before the outbreak.
“I wouldn’t have thought to pretend recording him,” Fin said.
“I had my phone out the minute I saw that guy go for his radio. I’ve never seen him before. It’s sickening that it was the fear of being watched that kept him civil. I’ve never had a gun pulled on me. The coughing was a nice bit of theatre.”
“I learn from the best,” Fin said.
Houses overlooked the path, but most of the windows were covered. The sound of distant weeping carried on the still air. They came out onto a ridge, high above the rooftops. The town was not sleeping, it was hiding.
Beyond the clustered housing estates, they were soon surrounded by fields and trees. Clouds hid the stars, but in the distance, they saw a solitary light slowly making its way up the side of Croagh Patrick.
“Do you think that’s the mountain rescue?” Rebecca said.
“Say so. It must be horrible up there this time of year, but I imagine they feel a whole lot safer than we do.”
Voices nearby forced them into silence until they passed. The tang of sea air as they approached the coast was a relief. They made it the rest of the way to the hotel without any further intrusion. They checked the locks and that none of the windows were broken. There were no signs of forced entry. To gain access to the hotel car park, somebody would have to climb down a four-storey drop from the estate above, down a slime-slick, sheer wall. Fin had to use both hands to get the key in the lock. He opened the door just wide enough for them to sneak through. Most of the built-up tension in his body evaporated once he turned the key, locking them in.
Rebecca sighed. “We’re safe.”
Instead of risking light and advertising their presence, they used the glow from their phone screens to move towards the kitchen behind the bar. Sound travelled far into the haunted shadows. Tinsel on the Christmas tree reflected light back at them. Before putting the food in the walk-in fridge, they rinsed everything, washed their gloves in bleach and put on fresh latex ones.
“We still have a lot of perishables,” Rebecca said, doing a quick stocktake.
“It’s a pity this didn't happen in July,” Fin said. “In summer this place is stuffed to the gills with food for all the tourists.”
“It’s a pity it happened at all,” Rebecca said.
“I meant there would have been enough food here to do the both of us for a long time.”
“There’s plenty. Tomorrow we’ll do a list of what we have and when it goes off.”
“Where do you think is safe in here?” Fin asked. “The advice was to stay as far from public places as possible. How many people do you think walked through these doors over the last week?”
“We don’t need the whole hotel. What we should do is figure out where we’ll sleep and the main places we’ll use. We scour them clean with bleach and avoid the rest of the building.”
“Sounds like a plan. We can check the system to see what rooms were used last. Find some new bedding and stay there,” Fin said.
“I won’t be able to sleep,” Rebecca emptied the presses of bleach and sponges.
“How long do you think you can go without rest before you’re a danger to yourself? Sleep now and you’ll be more productive in the morning. We’re safe. This place is a fortress. They’re not getting in.”
“Should we barricade the door?”
“The storm shields are on the windows. If we make a barricade people might wonder what’s worth protecting. Let's not invite curiosity. I’m having a pint. Will you join me?”
“How can you drink at a time like this?” Rebecca said.
“How can you not want a drink after today? I won’t sleep either, so the sensible thing is to try and knock myself out.”
Lost in the darkness, they followed the towering glow of the beer taps like ships orienting themselves by lighthouses. Fin took out the bottom row of pint glass trays. They were turned upside down to stop dust from falling in. He took two from the back; a reassuring film of dust rested on their bottoms. He filled the glasses and raised one to the camera, before taking a long drink and topping it up. He brought a few bottles of beer into the back office.
Rebecca had half her pint gone before the main computer booted up. “We’ve a suite on the top floor that hasn’t been touched in two weeks. Loads of regular rooms with views of the parking garage that have been idle for a while too – Fin?”
“What? Sorry.” His attention was drawn to the bank of security camera monitors on the wall. The screens were split into smaller tabs, displaying the video feeds from across the hotel. The hallways, kitchens, bar and lobby were all dark and empty. Night vision made it easy to make out details. Twice in the past he had caught drunken residents sneaking into the bar after hours, thinking they could get away with theft if the lights were off.
“What is it?” Rebecca asked.
“I thought I saw something on camera thirty-two.” It was a dark hallway where nothing moved. “Right beneath it is the camera feed from outside. Raindrops keep falling in front of it. They shine brightly with the night filter. Probably saw that in the corner of my eye.”
“Probably? Don’t say that, this place gives me the creeps on a good day,” Rebecca said.
They began a silent vigil. The foam of Fin’s pint fizzled out, leaving it lifeless. Please be nothing. They relaxed, as much as was possible, given what was happening across the country.
“I’m glad I’m not here alone,” Fin said.
“They asked me last year if I wanted the job of staying over the holidays to watch over the place. Turned them down, it’s too creepy. Why did you take it?” Rebecca said.
“Wanted to bring Solene away on a long holiday. We had no idea what we were at, save for the future or emigrate. I’m terrible at saving – with money in general – otherwise we’d already be abroad. I hope she’s…”
One
of the security camera screens lit up.
“What the hell was that?” Rebecca closed the thick door of the office and locked it.
Fin used the computer to enlarge the view. “It’s the basement,” he said.
The door of the drinks fridge and the dry food store was on screen. Empty crates and gas cylinders clogged the hall, scattered across the floor. A cylinder stopped rolling and came to rest against the fridge.
“How did somebody…” Rebecca stopped as Fin cycled through cameras.
“They’re all connected to motion sensors down there. A mouse could set them off, they’re that sensitive. Relax, you’re starting to make me anxious.” He tried to sound confident to put her at ease.
“There’s enough poison and traps set around this place to sanitise a plague ship,” Rebecca said. “Will you minimise that screen please? I want to keep an eye on the others.”
He did as she asked. Two more lights in the basement had been activated. The small hairs on his body stood on end.
Rebecca pointed at the screen. “I saw something move in the edge of the frame. Can you play back the recording?”
Fin’s hands shook. He clicked rewind and stopped. He saw it too. Somebody was in the basement.
9
Late Friends
“I’m not the only one with keys,” Fin said. “All the managers have a set, the owners too.”
He turned the cameras back to a live feed. One by one, the lights went off.
“We sneak out and head back to yours before the sun rises,” Rebecca said. She started pacing and pulled her hair up under her hat.
“The apartment’s empty, there’s no food there and my neighbour thinks we’re infected. We can’t go back. There aren’t any broken windows and the locks were fine when we came back. I’m telling you, we’re overreacting.” Fin opened the saved footage folder. “Camera only starts recording when it senses motion.” There were only a few clips from the basement. He stopped when he saw Rebecca on screen, clocking in for her last day. The next clip was of a person leaving the women’s changing room.