The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 3): The Fall

by Deville, Sean

  Through the hedgerow he could now see some of what was going on, several cars jammed up on the road, their lights illuminating much of what was occurring. The beams burst through the foliage in places, and Azrael moved further into the field so as to carefully avoid stepping into that light.

  It looked like three men had a family of four at their mercy. As he crawled past, he witnessed the father of the family beaten to the floor by two of the men who rained kicks down upon his face and head with a fury that only came with chaos and anarchy. Some people, released from the bonds of laws and social expectation would easily descend into an almost animalistic state, driven by pure emotion and desire. Azrael understood that feeling more than most. After all, he was created by Mother to do only one thing. Kill. Every death had been ecstasy to him, how better to ensure an assassin would end the life of anyone demanded of it?

  The mother was held by the largest of the three, her sobs and her pleas only enriching the experience for the ruffians who seemed to be relishing the noise of her distress. As for the two children, they sat on the road’s asphalt clinging to each other, eyes closed. They were both girls, young enough to hopefully escape the worst of what the men could do, but old enough to understand the horrors that were being perpetrated.

  Looking at them again, Azrael knew that these men would not care how old they were. Their frenzy would cause them to engage in horrors that would make the eyes of regular people bleed.

  Azrael felt that pull again. Never before had he felt the need to protect the weak, and the sensation confused him. He couldn’t risk his mission for this, could he? As atrocious as the situation was, it was being repeated across the planet a thousandfold. His intervention here would make no difference. It was hard to deny that something had changed within him though, he could feel it. Perhaps it had been his talks with Jessica or the frankness of his final conversation with Mother that Nick had allowed. Whatever had caused this shift troubled him because it was going to get in the way of what he needed to do. His focus should be getting to Smith at the exclusion of all other things, but here he was feeling concern, feeling pity for people he didn’t even know.

  It didn’t make any sense. Millions were dying all over the world and yet here he was fighting the urge to intercede in someone else’s squabble. He didn’t even know what the altercation was about. One of the men stomped on the father’s face again, bringing a fresh scream from the mother. The crack of bone ricocheted across the surrounding fields.

  Too loud, they were being too loud. That was what finally caused him to intervene, the excuse he needed to end his hesitation. Although it was unlikely, there was always the chance that there were undead in the area and they would be drawn towards the mother’s cries. Pulling the C8 CQB Carbine off his shoulder, he knelt as best he could on the broken ground and lined up the first shot, safe in the knowledge that the suppressor the gun was equipped with would deal with much of the noise.

  The men were less than forty meters from him…they didn’t stand a chance even with the bad lighting. The first man’s head exploded as the bullet penetrated just above the left eye. It was a steel core lead round, ideal for penetrating armour and bone. A good percentage of the man’s brains departed with the bullet through the back of his skull, ending the threat he posed to the family.

  The second man didn’t have a chance to even react, the bullet that killed him arriving a second later puncturing two lethal holes through his heart. One entry, one exit. Before he was on the floor, the last of the men was killed by another head shot, allowing the woman to break free of his malevolent clutches. Re-shouldering the weapon, Azrael stood and continued walking through the ruined field. That was as much as he was willing to do to help, and he hoped that the use of those three bullets wouldn’t be the ultimate end of him.

  Best now to stay off the roads as much as possible, which would slow him down even more, at least until he got closer to the cities. When the fields started to be replaced by concrete, then the real dangers would begin. By his reckoning, he was only a quarter of the way to where he needed to be.

  24.08.19

  Brazil

  Sleep did not come easily to Mother these days, so when it finally did arrive, it was like a blessing. You had to take it when you could, even if that meant falling asleep in the middle of the day, which was why Mother had dropped off on the balcony overlooking the forest below. The insects didn’t bother her, the fine netting stopping any invasion by the bloodsucking creatures of the tropics.

  It was still daytime, but the sun had already begun its descent beneath the horizon, Mother’s skin protected from the burning rays by the awning above her. She sat there, reality slowly coming back to her, a sharp mind trapped in a failing and disease-ridden body. As pleasant as the scenery around her was, her thoughts drifted back to the troubles she had unwittingly caused. This was not what she had wanted to achieve, and it was difficult for her to not regret the part she had played in the world’s end.

  Mother had objected strongly to the creation of the Lazarus virus, but she never should have let herself be usurped by those useless, power-hungry men. There was a moment, years ago, where she had glimpsed the true character of Father and she had not acted upon that revelation. Instead, she had let him warp and distort her dream, the vast sums of money he promised the organisation a temptation that she really should have resisted.

  It would have been so much better for the world if she had simply shot him through the heart. If given such a chance, Mother knew she would not hesitate to do so now. In that fleeting instant, her intuition had told her to kill Father, along with the other two. At the time, she couldn’t put her finger on why she had felt that way towards them. It was only later when she was removed from any semblance of power that she realised what her own innate sixth sense had been trying to tell her. If only she had listened to her gut like she had so many times in the past. The opportunity had passed, and now the Earth was on the brink of ruin.

  She knew she had to shoulder some of the blame for all this.

  Mother wondered how long it would take the infection to reach her here. She had months left to live at best, and she would likely live out her days without seeing a single zombie. It was more than probable that the outside world would be held at bay by the forest for that long. There was a dirt track that wound for several miles through the thick Brazilian Rainforest, so the only efficient way of reaching her retreat was by helicopter, not something a zombie would be wont to use, she figured. She had food, fresh water, and power from the solar array on the roof of the villa, storage batteries keeping the lights on during the night. The world could go to hell, and unless she turned on the TV, she wouldn’t even know it.

  Mother considered herself to be self-sufficient here as well as safe. She should have known better…she had been wrong about so much recently.

  Mother began the painful process of standing, gnashing her teeth to help fend off the pain that bristled through every joint. The burning sensation over her liver burst into life, perhaps upset that it had been forgotten, if only briefly. The opiates helped with that, but it was getting harder and harder to deal with. She was already taking doses that would kill a grown man unaccustomed to the various narcotics she had been prescribed. Why was it her body could acclimatise to the drugs, constantly diminishing their effects, and yet the pain got ever more intense? Truly there could have been no loving God, no intelligent design behind the construction of Homo Sapiens. Not unless that God was a sadist of epic cruelty.

  In the safety of her bedroom was her last resort, the heroin that she would only take towards the end of her days when the suffering became truly unbearable. Originally that was also how she had planned to end it all as well, an overdose of bliss to remove her troubles and her unending agony. Several times over the past few days, she had contemplated suicide, but that wasn’t to be her path just yet. There was still a point to her being here, although what that was she did not know. She had been betrayed by Father, by Uncle, a
nd by Brother…that duplicity required some form of payment. Mother was not the kind of woman to let pain and her inevitable impending death get in the way of revenge. Not that she now knew the truth.

  Standing now, she took an agonised step into the living room, the air conditioning there evaporating the sweat that the heat from outside had created. There was something wrong here though, something out of place. Mother looked around the familiar surroundings and realised too late that it was the smell of the place. Someone was here.

  So, finally they had come. Part of her had always expected this, despite the precautions she had taken.

  “I’m alone and unarmed if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Several corridors led off from the edge of the room, and a man appeared from one of these. Dressed in full combat gear, armed with an AR15, Mother knew instantly that he was an American. A second man appeared from his hiding place, and Mother prepared herself for death. She hoped that wasn’t what they were here for.

  “Maria Braun, I assume?” David Campbell said to her.

  “I have not been known by that name for a long time.” Campbell approached her, the other man watching her closely. Mother was pleased to see they were treating her with a level of respect that her reputation deserved. She was not the helpless old woman her visage suggested. In her life as an agent for the KGB and the East German Stasi, Mother had killed twenty-three people. Most of those had been with bullets at a distance, but four had been close and personal. For one of those kills, she could still remember the sensation as the knife slipped through the pitiful resistance offered by the victim’s flesh. There had even been a child amongst that number, a boy in the wrong place at the wrong time who had needed to be silenced to stop Mother’s identity being revealed. She had no weapon on her person now and she was not going to resist whatever these men wanted of her. If anything, she was glad they were here. “Why have you come all this way, American? Surely this old woman can be of little threat to your country now?”

  “Maria Braun, under Title 18 of the United States Code, section 3181, and under Presidential Executive Order, you are hereby placed under arrest for immediate extradition to the United States of America.” Campbell, whose face was obscured by the black ski mask he wore, extracted a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

  “You would kidnap and handcuff an old woman?” There was mockery in Mother’s voice. There certainly wasn’t any fear.

  “Alpha team cleared for extraction,” the other man said into his radio.

  “That’s exactly what’s going to happen. I’d rather not hurt you in the process. I’ve been told to bring you back in one piece.”

  “Do I not get to call my lawyer?” Mother pretended to beg. She couldn’t keep up the pretence, and she chuckled to herself. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist it. Hands in front or behind? I would prefer in front if possible, my arthritis you see.”

  “There won’t be any lawyers where you’re going ma’am,” Campbell said as he stepped behind her, defying her request. She was surprised by how gently he took her wrists so she offered up no resistance. As bad as her body felt, it could always feel worse with a few broken bones or a sprained joint.

  From the open window, the distant sound of a helicopter could be heard.

  “I see. Am I allowed to take my medication?”

  “A doctor will be assigned to you once you are on US soil. Are you able to walk by yourself, or do you need assistance?” Campbell was surprised by how frail the woman looked, he hadn’t been expecting that. You don’t envisage the person who helped slaughter the world to be so feeble.

  “The illegality of my medication is perhaps more than your doctors would be permitted to allow.”

  “Afraid I can’t help you with that,” Campbell stated.

  “Then we should go,” Mother insisted. “I have things I am sure your superiors want to know.”

  “Thank you for not resisting,” Campbell added genuinely. Arresting an old women was perhaps not the height of his clandestine career. He gave Mother a gentle push forward, and together they headed to the lift that would take them to the villa’s roof. There was a helicopter landing pad there to facilitate Mother’s easy passage on the rare events she left the villa.

  “How did you find me? I thought my Legend was perfect.”

  “We had files on you from when the Berlin Wall came down. You should never have told Colonel Carter your name.” Mother nodded sagely. She had known the elusive organisation MI13 would share her details with the Americans, and yet she had freely shared so much with them. It was thus only a matter of time for someone to have come for her, although they had acted quicker than she could have expected. Mother would have preferred to end her days here, but perhaps a part of her had deliberately let slip the keys to her identity.

  “Perhaps that’s exactly why I told him,” she said with a wink. They were stopped now, waiting for the lift to arrive. Two more armed men appeared.

  “Rest of the house is clear,” one of them said to Campbell. “Charges have been set.”

  “Get a last look at this place, Maria,” Campbell said. “It will be the last time you see it.”

  “You will be needing my journal then,” Maria stated. There was no hint of deception in her voice.

  “Where is it?”

  “In the study. The safe is behind the Rembrandt. Do you want to use your precious explosives, or shall I just give you the code?” She was playing with them now. One last adventure to finish off her days.

  “The code,” Campbell said, “would be very much appreciated.” Mother gave it.

  “While you are there,” she said mischievously, “you might as well fetch my medicine.”

  24.08.19

  Houston, USA

  Rupert Clayton had a plan that he was willing to implement. He had the men, and he had the firepower. He thought he would be able to surprise those who were now oppressing the population of Houston. Overlooking the main entrance to the Astrodome was the 610 freeway, and Rupert would position snipers up there as well as a team with a fifty calibre machine gun. That would help clear his entry into where his wife was being held. He needed to act soon as well, the hurricane was bearing down on them, the winds outside already picking up. In better times, Houston would have been evacuated, but how did you do that and fight the zombie infestation?

  His other problem would be the armoured Bradley fighting vehicles he had seen, but he knew a guy who could help with that. A few LAW rockets should do the trick in that regard, and Clayton had already arranged delivery. He might not have had the luxury of air support and tanks, but he had a few other tricks up his sleeve. There were nearly three hundred active members in his militia, and nearly half of them were up for the cause. He even figured the army and the doctors would have no option but to release his wife to his care when faced with those kinds of numbers, so perhaps a firefight could be avoided. Rupert would prefer not to actively engage fellow Americans on US soil, but he was prepared to do what needed doing. He didn’t hate the men and women who wore the uniform, but he despised the suits in Washington who told them to defy the rights of the American people.

  Unfortunately for him, that same US government had other ideas. For years, the Department of Homeland Security had been using Fusion Centres to collect and analyse all civilian telecommunications and internet traffic. The fusion process was an overarching method of managing the flow of information and intelligence across levels and sectors of government to create raw information for analysis. Rupert thought he was a patriot and thought he was clued up about how to plan his mini-insurrection away from the eyes and ears of the Feds, but to the US government, he was just a terrorist who had come to their attention. His use of citizen’s band and ham radio didn’t protect him from the listening ears of the deep state. His demise, however, was sealed when his satellite phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Rupert, thank God.” The voice on the other end sounded weak, the breath raspy.

 
“Doreen. Sweet Jesus.” The woman he loved was all he had been able to think about since she had been shipped to that damned quarantine facility.

  “Rupert, I just wanted… I just needed to say goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, but…”

  “Shut up you old goat and listen.” The words themselves were harsh, but the tone wasn’t. “It’s getting bad here, and I don’t know how long I can hide this phone.”

  “I love you, Doreen,” Rupert said, his heart in his throat. “Don’t you dare quit on me. I’m coming for you. Those soldier boys will hand you over or so help me, I’ll kill every one of them.”

  “It’s too late for that, Rupert,” Doreen said. Her voice was pained but calm. “The people here are dying all around me. You need to look after yourself. Save yourself.”

  “No Doreen,” Rupert’s voice rose as his desperation grew. “I’ll not abandon you. If it’s the end, then I want you here. If you are going to die, it will be in my arms.”

  “But then you will get the virus too.” She was in tears now.

  “Do you think I care about that? Do you think my life means anything without you? No, I’m coming to get you, Doreen.” He expected her to chastise him, to try and persuade him otherwise, but Doreen Clayton didn’t.

  “I think I’ve always loved you,” Doreen said, “even before I knew you. How did I get to be so lucky?”

  “I am the lucky one. My life would be meaningless without you in it. You hang in there Doreen. I’m coming for you. And I’m bringing hell with me.”

  That was why they came for him. Alerted to what Rupert was planning, a predator drone was already locked onto his location where it hovered, awaiting final confirmation to strike. Prior to Lazarus, the concept of using such a tool for assassination within the boundaries of the continental United States would have been unthinkable. The Constitution and the Bill of Rights didn’t count now, all that mattered was maintaining whatever order could be established.