Jonathan Lynch was born and raised in Dublin's inner city Ireland in 1983. From a young age Jonathan began reading Stephen King's novels who he accredits to being his influence to begin writing short horror stories himself. After many years of reading King, Herbert, Matheson, Bradbury, and Laymon, he began to write his first novel The Gift in 2007. After 5 years of on and off writing, more off than on!, Jonathan decided to self - publish his supernatural novel about a young boys deal with the devil in return for a better life in July 2012 after it was rejected by agents and publishers. The novel went on to win the Readers Favourite silver medal award in the young adult horror category in 2013 and is available in print and eBook format from Amazon along with his short stories Dead Business, and Deeds Done in Life
Jonathan currently lives and works in Ireland's capital city Dublin as a full time electromechanical engineer. When he's not spending time with his family and friends he can be found in the gym or somewhere reading and writing.
For up to date information, mailing list, and future works by Jonathan visit his official website at: Jonathanlynchauthor.net
Jonathan can also be connected with on Twitter and on Goodreads
Copyright© 2014 by Jonathan Lynch
Although this is a work of fiction in regards to names, characters, incidents and events, I must point out that Liberty Hall is in fact a real place in Dublin, and steeped in rich Irish history. But I have taken total liberties, (yes I left the dreadful pun in on purpose) with its interior and layout, all of which have come from my imagination. The rest of this normally goes – any resemblance to incidents and characters living or dead is entirely coincidental, which of course is true. But, if zombies do walk the earth in my time then the last thing I’ll be worried about is coincidence. My sincerest apologies on the pun above.
This book is dedicated to my son Brandon
JL
THE DUST
Chapter 1
I had just signed a new life insurance policy in my local bank when Ireland began to die. The whole situation would have been somewhat ironic were it not for the absolute horror that soon followed.
The end began with just a couple of people dying but then it quickly escalated into hell. It all started a couple of months after Ireland’s underground metro rail was finally given the green light to begin construction. The first phase of the build commenced in the south city centre of Dublin after the Taoiseach cut the red ribbon on live TV after he gave a bullshit speech about how this was another step forward into the rebuilding of our great nation. I don’t remember much of the speech now in light of all that has happened. But I will never forget how uncomfortable the Taoiseach looked as he was speaking those words. His unease never left me.
The first two victims to be found were two Polish men who had being doing security on the metro building site. They were found by the sites chief foreman, face down in their lunches in one of the portable cabins apparently with large bite marks on their bodies. The authorities’ were of course called, and the investigations began in the normal fashion. The news reports said murder, the tabloids said cannibals, and the police said all of the usual. The public believed a little bit of everything and we all figured it would unravel as time went by.
But a few days into the investigation three builders from the site were found dead by their wives in their beds. The state pathologist who had been investigating the crime scene on the site was the next to go. Her husband found her sprawled out on their bathroom floor face down in a pool of her own blood. The husband was arrested immediately and everybody believed him to be prime suspect until he was found dead in exactly the same manner inside his prison cell. The two lead detectives who were investigating the deaths on the site went next. One was found dead behind the wheel in his driveway covered in vomit and the other in the stations locker room. According to the reports it appeared that the corpses looked as though they had been burned alive.
The whole building site and surrounding areas were put on lock down. Businesses close by were closed until further notice and families were removed from their homes. The contamination experts were called in to get a handle on whatever was going on, and to stem the number of corpses heading to the hospitals. The whole country was put on high alert by the minister for health who feared that we were under the grip of an unidentified virus far worse than swine flu. People were given instructions on how to stay healthy and stop the spread of infection but it was already too late. Some even said that the building site was overrun with rats that were carrying some sort of deadly infection and were biting anyone that crossed their paths, but the general public scoffed at the idea. Well that was until the rodents actually did come.
But these rats weren’t the normal type that you would see scuttling around rubbish dumps, or the ones that might have made their way into your attic. These things were huge. They were the ones from urban legends about being as big as cats with fleshy pink tails that trailed in the dirt long behind their bodies, and teeth as big as our own.
I don’t think the people of Ireland could have ever comprehended how many rats we actually had in the country, (I sure as hell didn’t), and I don’t think anybody really knew where they all came from either despite their theories. But they flooded the streets, houses, parks, businesses, and anywhere else that they could get in to. They were everywhere, and they were attacking people.
The news tried to keep up with all that was going on but even the reporters became victims. They went out onto the streets and never came back, they got lost in the growing numbers of those dropping dead where they stood.
All day long I could hear the sirens from the emergency services blaring through the streets from my house. My bosses and I had shut up our garage until things calmed down and got back to normal even though we hadn’t come across any of the rats ourselves. I thought the biggest problem for the country would be dealing with the monster vermin. But boy was I wrong. The contamination experts who had been investigating the metro site died too. The reports were sketchy on the causes, but people assumed it to be the rats.
The investigators were immediately followed by more police officers. The army, and their reserves, which had been called in to protect the streets, and to restore order soon followed. Then the really crazy shit happened. The corpses that were lying in the hospital morgues were apparently coming back to life. Of course when the story broke everybody thought it was just some fucked up rumour started on the internet by the social media dicks. I heard about the Lazarus phenomena over the radio and couldn’t help but laugh even upon considering the way people were dying. I personally just put it down to the hospitals making silly mistakes because they were so stretched due to the scummy government’s cutbacks and, the power of the online rumour mills. Hell, every week they were declaring some celebrity dead or coming out with bullshit scandals.
But as more and more people began to die, more stories broke of people coming back from the dead, and terrorizing the hospitals. I still didn’t believe it.
How could any sane person?
But something was wrong. And it was getting worse by the hour.
Ireland was put on high alert, and the whole country went into quarantine. All cargo in and out of the island was banned. The postal service, public, and private transport were all shut down. Schools all over Ireland were closed officially even though parents had stopped sending their children as soon as the rats had appeared. Butcher shops and any other stores that sold farm produce were invaded by the ever dwindling army, and their stocks were destroyed. The sale of tobacco and alcohol was prohibited with immediate effect too – which caused more mayhem than all of the deaths. Petrol stations were o
rdered to shut their pumps off to deter people from moving around, and increasing the spread of infection, but I heard that one or two stations were selling, and getting ten Euros for a litre.
The internet was shut down to stop the widespread of such stories and to reduce the panic, and the conspiracy theorists having a field day. Land lines were kept on for a few days so that people could check in on their families who were old, incapacitated, or living in the asshole of nowhere. Then they were shut down along with the mobile networks – which in this age fuelled the ever growing chaos.
The country’s officials came out and gave a statement on the television. They acknowledged that the country was in the grip of what they called a ‘super bacteria that was sufficiently worse, and faster spreading than foot and mouth or swine flu. But they were quick to squash the rumours of dead bodies rising up from the morgues and killing people. They said that there were indeed problems in the hospitals, but it was nothing like what people were making it out to be. They called the reports the stuff of science fiction, rumours created by people who were trying to make light of a terrible situation. They said nurses and doctors alike had got infected throughout the country, and that staff were obviously stretched well beyond their limits, which unfortunately led to increased cases of MRSA outbreaks. But, reserves were being called upon, and the situation was being dealt with.
People were advised to stock up on essential supplies and then stay indoors. We were told to buy bottled water as the domestic supply was going to be cut off for testing. The electricity supply would remain on, but the gas would be cut. If we had any meat or diary in our homes it was to be thrown out at once. Farmers and their livestock were going to be checked and mass culling looked to be most likely.
The bigger supermarkets were shut down, but the local stores remained open for supplies. The officials’ warned that there was enough for everybody, but the army would be supervising the stores to regulate safe shopping.
As bad as it was, I think people still believed that the whole country was overreacting. We had a history for it. When I think back to the time of the big freeze the whole country fell into disarray for weeks, and that was only snow. Even when we had heavy rainfall the roads went into bedlam, and rivers would burst the banks and flood homes and businesses. When it came to crisis Ireland’s government and councils weren’t worth a shit. But when it came to spending money and fucking our economy up, we were right up there with the big boys for such a small little island.
The state officials finished their speech by saying that they were setting up makeshift clinics all over the country and were urging anybody who had elderly relatives’ on serious medication, or pregnant women in their care to be brought to their nearest clinics for examinations, as they were most likely to be more susceptible to infections. They guaranteed us that they were working on the best possible treatments and hopefully inoculations – even though they hadn’t yet got an exact handle on the bug. I should have noticed back then, but when I did it was far too late anyway
I lived with my grandmother in her small two bedroom house, just far enough away from the metro building site for us to be considered safe, but still too close for my liking despite me not coming across any rats. She was my only living relative – my mother’s mother. I had gone to live with her when I was 10 years old after both of my parents were killed in a traffic accident. She had raised me like a son, and I loved her as much as any child loved their maternal mother.
But my grandmother was nearing eighty. She had numerous old age ailments, and was quite prone to lung and kidney infections. A few weeks before the outbreak she had been diagnosed with the early signs of dementia and her mobility was starting to decline fast. Looking after her around work had been tough and I was delighted when my girlfriend Lauren moved in with us to ease the pressure on me.
Six months after Lauren moved in she fell pregnant with our first child. It wasn’t planned, but we weren’t exactly being really careful either. We were both shocked and excited. When we found out my biggest concern was whether my grandmother would still be in her senses enough to be aware of the baby when it came along.
When Lauren and I saw that speech we were naturally concerned. I didn’t like the idea of her and my grandmother going off to some makeshift medical centre being run by the National Guard, where they would be poked and prodded at while sitting around others who were already sick. Who knows what the hell they would have caught?
But in the end, I had to give in. Lauren had talked me around. She was as worried as I was, if not more, but she said if it meant that our unborn baby would be kept safe, and my grandmother looked after, then we really had no other choice. I agreed with her but once again I was overcome with that uneasy feeling that was ever present inside me.
Two days later we made our way to the medical centre after Lauren had set her and my grandmother’s appointments up over the phone just minutes before the lines were switched off. They had been instructed to bring a comfortable change of clothes, identification, and nothing else. We had been given clearance to drive because of my grandmother’s mobility issues and given a password to use if stopped by soldiers, but if our car was confiscated on the way then that was our own problem. What should have been a 30 minute round trip turned into a three hour nightmare. Almost every road was blocked off with bio hazard signs, army jeeps, and large articulated trucks that displayed crude spray painted signs warning drivers to have their identification ready at the checkpoint. Every few kilometres the car was stopped and searched after I gave the password and produced our identifications’ by three or four heavily armed soldiers dressed in contamination gear. The searches were all made in silence, save for the Darth Vader like breathing coming from their air regulating masks.
We drove all the way in silence. Lauren kept looking out her window around the ghost town that was once the thriving Dublin. My grandmother sat in the back seat praying in hushed tones with her ancient rosary beads wrapped around her interlaced fingers. Every so often we would pass a local shop with queues that stretched the length of the street with people from all walks of life joining together in their panic for food and other supplies. A few people carried baseball bats, some others golf clubs and hurls. Women held children close to their chests and avoided eye contact with those close to them. A few of the infants who wore surgical masks over their small faces stared at the passing traffic through lifeless eyes.
I saw one little girl who was standing by her father’s side, holding his hand and sobbing. The man was shaking the girl by the arm and shouting words at her that I couldn’t hear. He looked exhausted and angry. Both parent and child looked terrified. I looked at Lauren’s bump and then back to the road. I swallowed hard and pressed on.
We weren’t waiting long to be seen at the clinic. Lauren checked herself and my grandmother in at the makeshift reception. Ten minutes later they were both called by a man in a white contamination suit with a green stripe across the chest. He spoke to them in a friendly tone before asking them to follow him. I began to move with the women and then the man halted me.
‘Where do you think you are going?’ he asked looking me up and down.
‘With them of course!’
‘I am afraid this is the end of the line for you sir. The women here are to be inoculated and then put under observation for twenty four hours. You can return and see them then.’
I went to protest but I was grabbed from behind by two soldiers. They dragged me away from my grandmother and Lauren fast. They were leading me back towards the entrance. I screamed and fought with them to let me go but the two masked gorillas’ were too strong for me. I struggled so much that I didn’t even see Lauren or my grandmother disappear out of sight.
I was pushed out of the building and into the path of four armed soldiers. They all raised their guns at my head in aim. I raised my arms and held my breath. I thought I was going to be shot.
‘What’s going to happen to them?’ I directed my question at the two s
oldiers who had just thrown me out.
‘They will be taken care of don’t you worry. There’s nothing more you can do for them right now. They’re in the best place. Go home and wait for the clinic to contact you. The streets are too dangerous.’
I wanted to speak but I was halted by the sound of sirens. They began screaming throughout the street over a speaker system somewhere above my head. I put my palms over my ears to mute the piercing sound. I saw one of the soldiers raise his arm that had a radio attached to it up to his ear. He nodded quickly and then began to roar at the other members of his troop. I still had my hands over my ears and the sirens were blaring, but I still heard what he shouted at them through his gas mask.
‘ WE’VE GOT A CODE RED AT CHECKPOINT 8A. I REPEAT WE’VE GOT A CODE RED AT CHECKPOINT 8A. DBW! DBW! LET’S GET THIS AREA LOCKED DOWN NOW!’
I didn’t know what dbw stood for. But I soon found out. Checkpoint 8A was on my way home.
Chapter 2
I sailed through all of the checkpoints it had taken me hours to get through on my way to the clinic. They were all devoid of soldiers. The busy stores I had passed by had since pulled their shutters down, and the long lines of people were gone.
The streets were empty.
Or so I thought.
As I drew closer to checkpoint 8a the first thing that hit me was the stench. The smell of sewerage and burning seeped into every crevice of my car. It burned my nostrils and made me gag. I saw the first dead soldiers a couple of meters from the checkpoint. The first one was propped up against a blood spattered tyre of a wrecked jeep. I slowed down as much as I could until the car chugged along, thinking the guy was alive. The soldier still held his machine gun in his hands but his gas mask was missing, and when I pulled up beside him I saw that half of his face was too.
The Dust: The Zombie Apocalypse in Ireland Page 1