The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 3): The Fall

by Deville, Sean

  Was it possible that the zombie in front of her wasn’t so much captured as made? Surely even Carson wouldn’t do that to another human being. She was right, Carson wouldn’t, but he wasn’t in charge of the experiments here.

  “The test subject will retake her seat” the voice around her ordered. Gathering her nerve, Reece did as instructed, but not before noticing the discrete speaker in the top corner of the room.

  The five small rooms were next to a much larger room that was about ten metres deep, with two doors at the far end. There was only one zombie, and for some reason, it was trying its best to get into Reece’s sanctuary whilst ignoring the four soldiers. As blind as it was, the zombie seemed to be staring right at Reece, and she found she didn’t want to look back at it. Instead, she searched the corners of her little room, seeking information that could somehow be useful. She didn’t discover anything, although she did find herself wondering just why anyone would have built this setup. Reece didn’t have the medical knowledge to know it had been originally built to check the ability of different organisms to infect via airborne spread, the layout significantly altered specifically for this experiment.

  Pre-Lazarus, the things that had gone on down here were never revealed to the public or even to most of the government. Even the President was never made fully aware of the experiments in a facility that officially never even existed. Plausible deniability was always the best policy, plus there was always the risk that a newly appointed Commander in Chief might object to what were often bizarre and inhumane medical practices that breached so many international treaties as to almost be laughable.

  The soldiers began to sound off one after the other, a rolling wave of words coming from them. Although the zombie briefly stopped when it heard the sounds, it was not distracted from trying to attack Reece. Any second she expected it to break through, but the wall was too sturdy.

  In the brightly lit room that held the zombie, three soldiers entered through one of the doors. They were dressed in gas masks and body armour, and as they got closer, Reece saw that the armour had been modified by what looked like masses of duct tape. Would duct tape become the new currency, the ideal material to make any item of clothing bite proof?

  All three carried long poles with metal loops on them. The zombie turned to the new presence, but before it could try and attack them, the first loop was expertly slipped over its head and tightened. The other two soldiers similarly used their poles, creating a triad of control over the zombie. Despite its superior strength, the zombie was easily manipulated away from the Perspex towards the door next to the one the soldiers had entered. The soldiers in the rooms like hers were once again silent.

  “Please remain seated while the experiment continues,” the authoritative voice ordered. Once again, the wall in front of Reece went opaque. To her left, she could still see the soldiers, and she stared at them, hoping to see a glimpse of some humanity there. All she saw was blind, unyielding obedience. She waited for what would happen next, not knowing that another zombie would shortly be released to see if it could sniff her out.

  ***

  After fetching Reece, Jee had retreated to an observation room. There were four other people present, two of whom were in the same position she was…scientists who hadn’t been told the full story before being dragged here. When Dr Perry, the head of the CDC, had informed her she was being reassigned to directly help combat Lazarus, he hadn’t told her exactly what it would mean for her. Perhaps he hadn’t known himself, which was a very real possibility. Standing in the observation room, Jee suddenly wondered what would have happened to her if she had point blank refused to get on that helicopter with Carson. What if she had just resigned her position in disgust? She reckoned that would have been a very big mistake on her part.

  Jee had been here less than twelve hours, and she was already shocked by the ethical failings occurring at this facility. She understood that people were desperate, but the people running this research had clearly abandoned any concept of morality long ago. When it came down to it, that all meant the ultimate failing and the responsibility for the blatantly illegal practices here was down to the person in charge, Professor Schmidt.

  Unlike Reece, Jee hadn’t been forcibly sedated for the journey. Instead, Carson and his men had merely ignored her the whole of the way from Houston, any protest she made falling on deaf ears. The helicopter from the Astrodome had dropped them off at Ellington Airport where Reece was transferred to a stretcher. Jee’s hazmat suit was decontaminated, and she was required to replace it with the standard army issue with a filtered gas mask rather than bottle supplied oxygen. She had hated the new suit instantly, not only because of the way it felt but also due to the way it more associated her with the monsters that she had all but been abducted by. That task done, a transport plane had then taken them across the country to the Frederick Municipal Airport. There, Jee hadn’t even been able to catch her breath as she was bundled into a Humvee and driven at speed under armed convoy. A whirlwind tour across the country that had taken less than four hours in total.

  It soon became clear that Carson was indeed more than just an attack dog. His job was to organise the collection and movement of immune individuals across the country whenever and wherever they were uncovered, three rapid reaction teams under his direct command. He was also in charge of security in the facility that, as far as Jee could determine, didn’t even have a name. In a way, Carson was impressive, efficient as he was ruthless. Jee had already learnt to hate him before she even saw the true evil in his heart. The man would reveal so much more about who he was, and none of it would surprise Jee.

  The urgency and the speed with which she had been collected and transported was not new to her. When you were combatting virulent and deadly organisms, speed was essential, and there had been many times in the past where she had been forced to drop anything and everything so she could travel half the way across the country. That was all part of her job as a member of the CDC Global Rapid Response Team, and it had created difficulties in her forming any sort of meaningful relationship.

  What concerned her was the way the humanity of everything was being stripped away and her own inability to protect the rights of people who were being crushed beneath the boot of desperation. She understood the importance of getting the job done, but that didn’t mean one had to strip the compassion out of it. She may have been one of the best microbial researchers in the country, but she was a doctor first. Jee still believed in the Hippocratic Oath, and it was being broken in every instance here.

  Fort Detrick was home to the US Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases (USAMRIID), the Pentagon’s lead laboratory for medical biological defence research. With the CDC’s building in Atlanta now compromised by Lazarus, it made sense that this was the place where all the research would be centralised. What Jee didn’t realise was just how extensive a facility it was. The buildings on the surface only told part of the story. Much of what occurred there was hidden from prying eyes (as well as, it later turned out, Congressional oversight), all done in the fifteen subterranean floors that must have cost the government a pretty penny.

  When she had arrived, Jee had found the facility on lockdown and heavily guarded. Inside the razor wire topped fences, the army had established themselves in force, multiple guard towers having been erected to allow the placement of numerous fifty calibre machine guns covering all the approaches. Jee had been surprised by how much building work was ongoing, army engineers creating a high wall inside the perimeter fence from preformed slabs of concrete. Externally, a deep trench was also being dug, the army doing what they could to secure the military installation. Some of the less essential parts of the base had even been abandoned to make the defendable perimeter as small as possible.

  Jee didn’t think she’d ever seen so many soldiers in one place. As her ride had slowed on the road to the main gates, Jee had been further astonished to see a row of residential properties that bordered the wire bei
ng demolished, army bulldozers levelling the land. As much as she hated to converse with Carson, she had felt compelled to ask what was going on. Surprisingly she got an answer, Carson proud of the steps that were being taken to defend the base.

  “We need to create a perimeter killing field so that we can defend against future undead swarms,” had been the answer that came out of Carson’s mouth. “Our snipers need to be able to deal with anything before it even gets close to the perimeter.” Jee had just nodded as if it all made sense to her when, in reality, all she could think was how the army was destroying people’s homes. “It’s also important to ensure nothing escapes.” Carson had added that last bit perhaps as a warning to let Jee know she wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon.

  Carson also neglected to tell her what had happened to the people who lived in those homes.

  When Jee’s transport finally arrived at the front gate, she was introduced to what the soldiers stationed here called The Gauntlet, Fort Detrick’s defence against an unwanted incursion by Lazarus.

  The main gate of Fort Detrick had been turned into an automotive decontamination centre. Special trays filled with disinfectant had been set up to sterilise the tyres and tracks of any vehicles that passed through, while the exterior of said vehicles was sprayed with a fine mist of the same noxious substance. You wouldn’t want your windows open while passing through that.

  It only got more paranoid from that point. All arrivals were directed to a decontamination centre where everyone was put through a disinfection process that resulted in the thankful removal of the NBC suit that she had been forced to wear. To minimise the risks further, the suit had been sprayed and washed down before removal, the gasmask sparing Jee from much of the smell of the noxious liquid that would have likely burned the skin on contact.

  The next stage in the Gauntlet was the removal of all clothing so that her skin could be cleaned. She had technically been alone with her nakedness, only a half dozen surveillance cameras witnessing how nature had intended her to be. The chemical shower was nothing new to her, but her life would have been improved by never experiencing it.

  The last weapon to stop Lazarus from entering the facility was the blood test. The scientists at USAMRIID had already perfected an efficient and quick test to check for Lazarus. A simple pinprick and the collected blood would indicate within five minutes if Lazarus was present in an unfortunate individual. The last thing anyone wanted to do was to allow the unexpected arrival of the world’s deadliest pathogen into the one place that could likely provide the cure. However, it still wasn’t deemed one hundred per cent effective, so a conventional blood test was also done.

  The CDC had made that mistake in Atlanta. It wouldn’t happen here. Despite all the precautions, no test could be effective in every instance.

  Jee had passed the initial field test, waiting naked in a designated room while those nervous minutes slowly ticked by. She tried to ignore the assault to her dignity, knowing that everyone would be treated the same, even Carson. Jee certainly wasn’t going to give him any form of satisfaction by showing unease. Fortunately, as he had been behind her in the queue to go through the decontamination process, it was unlikely he had been gawping at her via the watchful and ever-present cameras. Jee didn’t think a man like Carson was even interested in sex. He would be too busy getting his rocks off singing the Star Spangled Banner.

  From there, she was allowed to dress and was directed to sit in an isolation room whilst the standard blood test results were obtained. With a full medical research facility on site, that part didn’t take long.

  The gauntlet was a laborious process because one could never be too careful. What they hadn’t told Jee was what happened to those who failed the blood test. The room she had waited naked in was airtight. Anyone displaying a positive result to Lazarus would have been sedated by gas and sent to a holding facility outside the base’s perimeter. Once immunity to the virus was ruled out, those unlucky individuals were offered painless termination. They would then be added to the growing store of undead that was housed deep in the bowels of the facility.

  Jee had survived all that, and now she was here witnessing the bizarre experiments that were being done. All under the instruction of the woman who was running the show. Professor Mia Schmidt. A certified genius and quite likely one of the most sadistic individuals Jee had ever had the misfortune to come across. You could almost see it in the professor’s eyes. Carson was here also, the two seeming to complement each other’s cruelty admirably.

  “Explain to me again what the point of this is,” Carson asked Schmidt.

  “Simple really. The original experiment was to determine how the undead find their prey. With them being blind, we needed to discover just how powerful the remaining senses are. We soon established they were able to smell and hear, reacting violently to any stimuli that suggested a human presence. But with the first test subject, we found that certain zombies always went for the immune individual, depending on where we had acquired the strain of their virus.” Even though she knew this, it still horrified Jee. Schmidt had deliberately infected innocent people with Lazarus. “It is my opinion that the virus is mutating to allow the undead to detect individuals who are resistant to the virus, that they can somehow smell them.” Carson nodded his understanding. “This experiment reinforces that belief, which is why it is so important any immune individuals you find get transported here.”

  Jee didn’t agree with that last part, although she kept her counsel to herself. Sticking all those who were deemed to be immune under one roof was just asking for trouble. As the old saying went, never keep all your eggs in one basket.

  “We have word on two more, but like with Reece, I might need to fetch them myself,” Carson advised. “I’ve got one team grounded in Arkansas, and another chasing a red herring in Portland. Our military is spread too thin, it’s becoming more and more difficult for them to spare the men I need.”

  “I’m sure you will get me what I need,” Schmidt said. Jee didn’t know it, but there was a subtle dig at Carson there. It was the Major that had coordinated with the DIA to arrange the team that had botched the abduction of Jessica.

  “And I’m sure you will avoid killing any more of the immune.” The words hit Jee like a sledgehammer, and she stared at Carson, horrified at the revelation. This was the first she had heard about there being any deaths. In truth, there had been dozens of people killed down here, but only one immune individual. It made no sense to fetch zombies out of the wild when you could just create them in the safety of the laboratory. That was another reason the homes that existed on the edge of the base were no longer needed.

  “We learnt from our mistake,” Schmidt stated angrily. She briefly caught Jee’s eyes, the professor just shrugging callously.

  My God, thought Jee, what have I gotten myself into?

  23.08.19

  Preston, UK

  Smith was very aware as to how he had changed. The lack of any guilt or remorse was in some ways refreshing, as if he had been freed from a curse that plagued humanity. He didn’t care about the morality of what he did anymore and knew he was capable of anything needed to get the job done. The thing that did worry him was the way his mind had fractured. The Voice had been right. If XV1 did that to everyone it was injected to, then its use would be severely diminished.

  There was something else driving him on with these experiments, something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It wasn’t a fear of loneliness that spurred him on, but something more visceral than that. He was sure the answer would come with time. Smith also suspected that The Voice knew all the answers to the questions nagging him. Only The Voice wasn’t one for sharing what it knew. Not yet.

  After striking the head from the zombie’s body, Smith hadn’t returned to his test subjects straight away. Instead, he had sat on the cold, hard floor of the parade ground and picked the head up with both hands. Although its eyes had been pitch black, Smith had felt mesmerised by them an
d had gazed into the blackness of the void they represented. There were secrets in there that needed to be discovered.

  Smith had become lost in himself, even The Voice being silenced as his own mind drifted into an almost hypnotic trance. The eyes told him so many things, secrets that were mind shattering in their truth, spiralling into a never-ending pit of ultimate understanding. Yet, when he finally managed to pull his gaze off the trap he had been sucked into, Smith had no recollection of what he had been shown. He could sense that revelation he had been given, answers to questions that he didn’t even know existed. But sensing wasn’t the same as remembering or understanding, and a great sense of loss and betrayal washed over him.

  There was no concept of time during all that, and Smith was surprised to see that hours had slipped by. What exactly was he becoming? In the back rooms of his mind, he could swear he heard The Voice chuckling.

  “The answer will come, you wait and see. And when it does, it will be the end of you. That’s why your mind hides it from you. It knows you can’t handle what you need to see.”

  Returning finally to the room with the three men, Smith put the gyrating head on a metal surgical table. The decision he had to make now was which of his subjects to unleash the virus on further. The choice to him was obvious, Shah being the best candidate. He seemed the more reasonable of the three men, the one least likely to have any existing sociopathy. Shah’s survival had been through sheer force of will and determination. Dawson was a thug, someone who likely enjoyed inflicting pain, who had survived partly due to his own physical bulk. Cartwright for his part was a conniving, devious individual who would likely sell his own grandmother if given half a chance.