Albert Peterson - The Hibernia Strain

“Who the hell are you?” I yell.

“I’m Emma’s boyfriend. So I guess the question is WHO THE FUCK are you?” is his stern reply.

This unexpected response throws me. I’m filled with a mixture of hurt and relief. Hurt because of the betrayal of Emma’s lies about being single. Relief because it’s immediately apparent from the way he talks and holds himself that he’s not another one of the infected; instead he’s just a pompous dickhead.

I lower the sword to my side unsure how to answer. Before I can think of anything to say, Emma enters the room and barks, “Why the fuck are you in my room Jason?”

He answers with a sleazy sounding, “Don’t be like that babe. I was worried about you and came over to see if you were okay.”

“I don’t need you to check on me you cheating scumbag. How dare you come onto my property when were broken up. What gives you the right?! How do you even have a spare key you creep? Leave the key and get the fuck out.”

Broken up? So this guy is an ex boyfriend. My heart and spirit feel revitalized on hearing these words.

“But babe you know I love you.”

His voice really irritates me. Now is a chance for me to show Emma that I can stand up for myself and her. To show her that I can be confident.

With my new and improved self belief, I lift the sword once more and point the tip in Jason’s direction. In a powerful voice I bellow, “She doesn’t want you here, so I suggest you leave now before I make you leave.”

Emma must have noticed the change in my deportment as I catch her looking at me in her bedroom mirror, a look of admiration on her face.

A now obviously disgruntled Jason begins to move and circles past me towards the door, making sure to give a wide berth to the sword blade which is gleaming in the sunlight from the bedroom window. I follow him out and march him to the front door. All the time he’s seething profanities at me.

We reach the front door, and he steps outside the threshold.

“You wouldn’t be so tough without that sword you faggot,” he says.

“Well if that’s what you think I am, maybe I should shove this sword up your ass and see how much you like it you homophobic shithead.”

To psych him out, I fake a lunge forward. He stumbles backwards and lands on his arse. I grin widely, and as I’m shutting the door I laugh out, “See ya around precious. That is if those freaks don’t see you first.”

He kicks the door several times in frustration before walking away swearing and muttering to himself.

As much as I don’t like the guy; I hope he doesn’t attract any unwanted attention with his noisiness. That could result in us being discovered too.

I go into the living room. By now, the sun is shining fully in the window where I had watched it ebb its way across the wall this morning. I let my attention slip momentarily as I gaze at the dust particles glistening and dancing around in the brightness. I take a deep breath.

“Emma,” I start, “I know you don’t really know me, but I’m asking you to please come with us. I don’t think it’s safe to be here on your own, what with asshole ex’s inside and sicko nutcases outside. I’m worried for you. I was thinking we could give you a lift somewhere safer like your parents’ farm? I’m sure they’ll be worried sick!”

She tries to interrupt, but I’m on a roll and don’t give her a chance as I carry on my rant.

“I mean what if something happens? Your mobile doesn’t even work. How will you get help?”

I’m nearly red in the face and panting from my outburst. My recently acquired confidence from the sword wielding is shunted aside momentarily.

Emma responds in a very matter of fact kind of a way.

“Okay look, firstly like I said the other night my parents are abroad on holidays at the moment so it’s possible they don’t even know what’s going on over here. And secondly, fine I’ll go with you but only to make you stop your raving. It’s a little embarrassing to say the least.”

She grins cheekily.

“It’s a deal,” I utter, relieved that she’s changed her mind.

“I think you’re on to something though about going to my parent’s farm. It pretty secluded so it should be free from unwanted visitors.”

“Great then we have a plan,” I chirp.

With our arrangement in place the mood in the room lightens and I feel more at ease.

“Answer me this Matt. Why do you care so much about looking after me? I mean, as you just said, you hardly even know me. Like your charming friend out there assumed, I’m just a bit of ass that you want to ride right?”

The surprise of this sudden crude question leaves me flustered. My confidence levels are now definitely back down in the dirt where they usually reside. I’m no good when put under this type of pressure.

Growing up as a shy kid lacking in interpersonal skills meant I never fully adjusted to dealing with certain situations. Being a loner is in my nature and it’s how I get along best in life. But who truly wants to live that way? I don’t, I never have, but ever since certain incidents when I was younger I just turned inward and away from society. The result of which is my being completely awkward in many everyday conversations but especially emotion based ones with the opposite sex.

“Well you see,” I begin to stutter.

Emma saves me from any further humiliation by flashing me that perfect smile of hers and saying, “I’m just screwin’ with ya. You really do make it too easy.”

She comes over to me and slides her arms around my waist, pulling me in close.

“I never did get to thank you properly for rescuing me the other night. Let’s just say last night was a minor indication of my gratitude,” she says as she runs a finger seductively from her perfect lips over her collar bone and down towards her flawlessly formed breasts which are nestled revealingly in her skimpy string top.

I’m almost drooling as she pulls away, leaving me standing there trying to conceal a semi, with thoughts of last nights’ fun racing through my head.

“I’m just going to throw a few things in a bag,” she toots as she trots off to her bedroom seemingly unaware of my tent pitching abilities. Jeez, that girl is one fucking prick tease.

I throw the sword onto the couch and go into the kitchen to check the portable radio for any updates. I turn it on and tune it to the government broadcast station. The same message is still playing. I listen to it again in case there might be a bit extra added to the end.

As I listen, I rummage around the cupboards throwing random packets of food into a discarded box. This might have to feed us for awhile.

With my entire concentration focused on the radio and supply foraging, I fail to hear the stealthy feet make their way up behind me.

By the time I notice the person’s reflection in the glass of the window it’s too late. I’m dragged to the ground and subdued by the full weight of a grown person pressing down on of me.

Who the hell is this? My immediate assumption is that Jason has decided to teach me a lesson but it quickly dawns on me that I left the front door unlocked after I persuaded him to leave. Some other randomer freak could have snuck in.

I’m spun around onto my back and my shoulders are pinned to the ground restricting my movement. This isn’t Jason that’s for sure, it’s an infected.

All I’m able to do is use my arms to hold back the advance of a grim looking face, but even this is futile as he traps my arms above my head. I’m totally defenceless.

We’re eye to eye as he begins to wretch, not dissimilar to a cat before it coughs up a hairball. I foresee what’s going to happen next so I suck in a deep breath, tighten my lips together and squeeze my eyes shut just in time as the manky liquid spews from his mouth and flushes over my face.