The HarpIES – Web Episode 4.
“…authorities are still trying to locate Dr Maxwell Harper, a geneticist at the St. Mary’s facility in Manchester and lecturer at the local University. Yesterday the BBC, and a number of other stations, received what is being called a manifesto concerning the release of a virus in the area. Some of this morning’s tabloids have already christened this the HarpIES virus.
At present we are unable to give any details of the document, but the following statement was made by the Health Protection Agency earlier this morning.”
The screen flickered for a moment, and then a figure appeared, grim faced and tired looking behind a podium displaying the HPA crest. Behind him were a few recognisable members of parliament, including the Prime Minister, some military types in uniform and other serious looking men in suits. Clearing his throat, the man behind the podium started a nervous sounding speech.
“Since approximately 3pm yesterday, the Health Protection Agency and conjoining authorities have been tracking an escalating health issue within the UK. At this point we have confirmation from the St. Mary’s genetic research facility, that initial symptoms relate to a variant of the virus Intracellular Endocrine Syndrome, or IES. Samples of the mutated virus have been found in both air and surface content around the Piccadilly station area.
This is a highly contagious viral strain, and current results confirm the mutation is gender specific to the female percentage of the population. Indicators specify that contact with the virus can have an incubation period of up to three hours before symptoms become apparent, although fluid exchange with an IES host can result in an almost instant reaction.
Female members of the public displaying flu like symptoms which escalate within the hour, or anyone who believes they have been in direct contact with an IES host, please contact one of the below numbers immediately. Teams in the Health Protection Agency are waiting for your call. We have been directly liaising with your local health authorities and emergency services to coordinate…”
Gerard didn’t know how long he’d heard the music in his peripheral, before his brain registered the mobile phone was ringing in the bedroom. He got up, and stumbled into the next room. Gerard’s head began to pound again, even with that exertion. He found the phone still in the blood splattered jeans. The name on the screen read Motty – his brother.
“Alright ball bag.” Dermott’s mocking thick Irish accent started the conversation with one of his usual openers. “How’re the English bastards treating you?”
“Don’t Motty; have you not seen the news? Something’s going on in Manchester.” Gerard replied. He didn’t want to say the words, but he knew he had to. “I think Sandra’s dead.” The line was silent for a moment.
“Ah piss off, you nearly had me there. Jesus, that’s a bit dark for you eh?” Came back the unbelieving reply.
“It’s true, turn on the fuckin’ TV! I was there, she was…and her parents…” The random words spilled from Gerard, and he could feel his brain trying to click into panic mode again just by talking about it, so abruptly he stopped speaking.
“Holy shit!” Dermott interrupted the outburst, just as Gerard stopped speaking. “What happened?”
Gerard went through the last twenty-four hours again, part by staggered part, as he tried to keep his roller coasting emotions in check. Dermott stayed silent while the story was retold, until Gerard mentioned returning to the hospital today.
“Go back to the hospital?” Dermott butted in. “You can try, but I think you’re mad. If anything that place will still be locked down – guaranteed. You’re not going to get anywhere near those buildings, let alone find someone to report it to. And anyway, what are you going to tell them that they don’t already know? You don’t know anything more than what’s been on the news. Ring that number on the TV, and sit tight while…”
Gerard felt the concussion from the explosion before he heard it. The building shook with the shockwave, and Gerard was surprised the windows didn’t shatter as he watched them visibly bubble inwards with the concussion. The lights in the room flickered for a moment, then they and the TV went out. Gerard didn’t know what had happened, but he could already hear a multitude of alarm bells ringing in the buildings around him. Looking out the window in front of him, he could see a thick plume of black smoke rising from the direction of the university. Gerard only remembered about Dermott on the other end of the telephone, when he could hear tinny shouts from the forgotten mobile in his hand.
“I’m here, I’m here.” Gerard spoke back into the phone, surprisingly calm and still staring out the window towards the rising smoke. “Something’s just blown up. I can’t see from here, but it must’ve been big with all the noise and smoke.”
“Jesus Christ G. Fuck whatever it is, you don’t need any part of it.” Dermott spoke up. “As a matter of fact, forget everything I’ve said. You really need to think about getting out of there, and coming home for a bit. You can ring whoever on your way back to Rathlin. I’ll even get the boat out to meet you if you need it.”
At any other time Gerard would have thought Dermott was just trying to get him back to the island again. Every day they’d spoken since Gerard told Motty he was travelling for a few months, the “when will you be back again” had been slipped into every conversation. Gerard had started his tour of the isles in Belfast. After that he took the train to Dublin, and after a week there he crossed the water to London. Everything had been going well for his return to Rathlin Island within a couple of months, and then he went to Manchester and met Mandy. Eight weeks later Gerard was still in Manchester, and until now his only concerns were the depleting savings in his account, and not giving Motty a date for his return.
“I need to sort this first Motty. I’ll ring you later tonight and tell you what’s happening then.” Gerard spoke back. The line was silent for a moment before Dermott said anything.
“You do what you need to mate. Just don’t take too long, and be safe about it. Make sure you ring me tonight though.” Dermott forcefully told him.
Gerard could tell Motty wanted to argue the point, but both of them knew there would be little point. Each brother was as hard headed as the other, and until Gerard was ready Motty would only be wasting his breath convincing him otherwise.
The conversation finished with Dermott making Gerard again promise to ring him when he knew more. Gerard still stood at the window, looking at the black mushroom of smoke that hovered over the area and now seemed even thicker than ever. Gerard’s brain was running through a dozen scenarios at the same time. Were these things related, or was it just a coincidence? Should he stay in the city and hope everything sorted itself, or go now before things got worse? He wanted to ring the helpline and offload everything, but now the electricity was off he couldn’t get the number from the TV. There was nothing for it, he was going to have to go out and deal with it all in person.
www.TheHarpies.com
