The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 4): The Dead

by Deville, Sean

  26.08.19

  Leeds, UK

  When Michelle woke up, she barely noticed that dawn had broken. The room around her didn’t seem real, the very light hurting her eyes. Her body hurt from the hard surface she had fallen asleep on, the urge to crawl up into a ball and just die was stronger than anything she could actually remember.

  There was no way she would get into her new job feeling like this. The sensation crushed her, making her mind a rebel force against her own wellbeing. They could find someone else to serve the bloody soup.

  It took her several minutes to get up the courage to move from where she lay, and instead of standing, she crawled pitifully across the living room carpet, managing to get onto her hands and knees halfway across the room. Michelle felt she just didn’t have the energy to stand, so she continued this means of motion until she reached the safety of her bedroom. The bed called for her, a womb against the world, beckoning Michelle into its safe and warm embrace. She did not refuse its call, the covers cold against her body as she snaked under them. They soon warmed up, and a feeling of peace finally seemed to settle over her. It was the only place she felt secure now.

  Burying herself into her pillow, Michelle wondered why she should even consider leaving this safety. The world was damned, what point was there carrying on with anything anymore? Did those who clung to power really think that they could keep the zombie hordes at bay? Such stupidity, such arrogance.

  Michelle knew she should use the mobile phone to let somebody, somewhere know she was sick, but she couldn’t even make herself do that. To get out of bed and hunt for that phone was a task greater than her. Michelle had completely collapsed into herself, the depression total and all-consuming. If the ground had opened up into a gaping pit that led to the fiery depths of hell itself, she probably would have been thankful. The duvet wrapped lovingly around her and with her eyes closed, she drifted off to sleep again.

  When her eyes next opened, there were people in her bedroom, unwelcome invaders who brought the stench of malevolence with them. Something was prodding her, and as the panic sparked at the invasion of her privacy, she froze, staring at the terrifying men in gas masks. Two of them, strangers to her as far as she could tell, both armed, one of the guns being used to poke at her. What were they doing here? What if she had been in bed naked?

  “You’re late for work,” one of the men said. They were in her flat, they were in her privacy. How dare they? How could they?

  “I’m sick,” she managed to say. It was then that she realised those were the worst words she could string together.

  “You look it,” the prodding man said again.

  “It’s my depression,” Michelle managed to say, suddenly fearful that they would just shoot her.

  “I don’t give a shit,” the other masked man said. “You have a job to do. We will give you five minutes to get dressed, and then you are coming with us.” Michelle shivered at the prospect, but how could she defy men with guns? What was even more troublesome was the normal street clothes the men wore. Neither had on a uniform. The purple armbands, though, they were prominent. That and the guns were all the authority these men needed.

  Michelle sighed and nodded her acceptance of the terms that had been set to her, and the invaders stepped out of her bedroom, closing the door behind them. It had been so easy for her thoughts to drift into what they could have done to her sleeping body. There was no way Michelle could have fought off both of them, especially with the weapons they carried. They could have done pretty much anything to her if they had taken the notion to. She didn’t know that rapes across the city had plummeted the last few days. Rapists were scum driven by the basest of animalistic urges, but very few with that predilection wanted to risk catching Lazarus or face the justice of a rope slung over a lamp post. Small mercies in a world literally eating its own heart out.

  The two men had been good to their word. When she emerged from her bedroom, they had been patient with her, accepting the fragility of this individual. They had seen a lot of that the last few days, people falling apart as the weight of the apocalypse fell on them. This morning alone, they had found two dead bodies from suicide. For a city on the brink of a zombie invasion, removing yourself from the equation was not an unreasonable way to go.

  The armed men escorted Michelle down to the street and then watched her walk off to her place of work. They didn’t have the time to hand deliver her there, too many people like her needed chasing up. She either turned up or she didn’t, and if it was the latter…well, that wouldn’t be very good for her future prospects. The next team to go hunting for her wouldn’t be so forgiving. When they were satisfied Michelle was heading in the right direction, they went after the next person on their list. On the way, one of the men spotted a pigeon which he shot from where it was casually sat. Birds were an enemy now.

  In a daze, Michelle made the walk to the school, not understanding why everyone couldn’t just leave her be. In her rush to leave the apartment, she barely realised that she had forgotten to take her anti-depressant medication. Also, she had the desperate need to pee, something she couldn’t even contemplate doing with two oppressive strangers in her apartment. The urge became so bad that Michelle ended up slipping into a side alley so she could squat down. She knew she should have been embarrassed by the act, but nobody saw her, and her mind was in such turmoil that the debasement barely registered. Even if a whole crowd of onlookers had been there to bear witness, she reckoned she didn’t even care anymore.

  As late as she was, nobody said anything about her tardiness. Mitch wasn’t in the tent, so Michelle was spared his unwanted advances. The soldiers ignored her, and the other servers barely acknowledged her existence. Once again, Michelle found herself doling out food to what looked like a crowd of hundreds of people, many of whom were clearly desperate and in a worse predicament than she was.

  There was a pulsing in the centre of her forehead as if something was trying to burrow out of her. The desperate faces that came before her all seemed to merge into one another, a horde unto themselves. She found herself barely seeing them, the ladle heavy in her hand, the air around her filled with the stench of people who hadn’t washed in days. Even with the breeze that gently caressed the overhead canopy, she found the smell nauseous. She hadn’t eaten for hours, and yet she didn’t feel hungry. It was the last thing she could even consider doing, the swill she was serving just adding to her dismay.

  Two hours in and she started to feel light headed. Michelle knew she should have told someone, but who would she tell? Nobody here cared about her, the women she worked with all likely suffering the same level of shock as she was. They weren’t free anymore, they were basically slaves, forced to work to look after others who evidently couldn’t look after themselves. Was she any different? She could barely think straight, never mind care for her own wellbeing. If those two men hadn’t come for her, she would have likely still been lying in that bed.

  Her mind was so jumbled, she couldn’t fathom the downward spiral she was trapped in.

  When her break finally came due, she took it, tearing herself away from the dozens of eyes that watched her. She didn’t want to be before them anymore, the pleading and angry faces equally distressing to her. When she entered the tent and sat down heavily at one of the tables, she was amazed she had been able to stay on her feet as long as she had.

  “You were late,” a critical voice said from behind her. Mitch stood there with his arms crossed sternly. Michelle glanced at him, fear adding to the avalanche of feelings that were swirling through her.

  “I’m sorry,” Michelle managed.

  “You don’t look well,” Mitch added. He pulled a chair over and sat next to her. As much as she wanted to move away from him, Michelle suddenly found she didn’t have the energy.

  “I’m sorry,” Michelle said again. She didn’t really understand why she was apologising. Mitch pulled his chair closer, his hand now resting on her arm. She didn’t want it there, didn�
�t want him anywhere near her. But they were alone together, and she felt she had no power to stop him doing whatever his sick mind demanded.

  Somewhere in the distance, gunshots rang out, and her eyes went wide as panic threatened to consume her. The shots were close enough to be worrying, but when she saw the smirk on Mitch’s lips, she managed to calm herself down somewhat. Mitch backed away slightly, derision filling his face. She could see by his reaction that they weren’t going to be swarmed by the undead all of a sudden.

  “Just those who won’t do their part being dealt with,” Mitch said, standing. One of the cooks entered the tent, briefly giving Michelle the once over. The cook didn’t catch Mitch’s eye, for she too had been the victim of this man who thought the female of the species was infinitely enhanced by his presence in their lives. “You want to make sure you do what you are told little lady,” Mitch advised. There was definitely a threat there, and he let it linger in the air before he left the tent.

  “Can I give you some advice?” the cook said when she was sure Mitch was out of earshot. Michelle looked at her, another shot ringing out. This one didn’t make her jump. “If he insists on fucking you, just let him have his way.”

  “How can I?” Michelle almost begged. Was that really what this was about? Surely he was just intent on sexual harassment, power games. Michelle hadn’t even considered that it would go that far.

  “It’s better for you if you find a way,” the cook insisted. “He doesn’t last long, so it will be over quickly.”

  “But how….”

  “How do you think?” The cook had a hard face now, the memory of what she had allowed Mitch to do brought into her thoughts. “We don’t know how he got this particular job, but whoever runs all this lets him get away with being an utter dick.”

  “I can’t do this,” Michelle suddenly blurted. The tears came then, the release valve open again, the stream of her mind forcing outwards

  “You’re pathetic,” the cook said, annoyance in her voice. That shocked Michelle, which brought the tears afresh. She would have hoped for some sort of sympathy, but that clearly wasn’t going to occur here. How the hell was she going to get through this day? Why wouldn’t anyone help her?

  Michelle knew she had to get away, and the rising anxiety caused her to stand too quickly. With low blood sugar and a sudden drop in blood pressure, the demands on her body were just too much causing Michelle to actually swoon. Falling to the floor, she cracked her head on the side of the table, drawing blood from the gash that opened up. Landing hard on the floor, unconsciousness took her rapidly, and she crumpled into a useless heap, the cook half-heartedly calling for someone to come to her aid.

  Michelle was spared some more of the new reality, at least for a few hours.

  26.08.19

  Frederick, USA

  Jee looked at the blood test results, the ice spreading through her veins as the reality of her situation became apparent. She felt fine, the infection in its early stages, but she wouldn’t stay like that for long. The vaccine was here, in the base, but would it work to save her post exposure? And they only had just over two hundred doses, was that enough?

  No it wasn’t, which was why she was in a room on her own. The infected soldiers were already being quarantined in a building outside Fort Detrick, the base commander knowing full well how desperate men could turn against their brothers if a chance for life was dangled before them. It could have been so easy for an insurrection to rise up within the base perimeter, soldier turning against soldier. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened, not yet at least, the vials of the vaccine under heavy guard by the Delta team who had delivered it. There were rumours that those Delta soldiers had helped themselves to the vaccine, but nobody seemed to know for sure.

  With Major Carson dead, John had stepped into his shoes, a promotion to Major given to him almost as a passing thought. John knew he was no replacement for Carson, but somebody was needed, the expeditions to acquire the immune now abandoned. The priority was to protect and distribute the vaccine, as well as create more. The vaccine was to be administered to the most essential of personnel, which was why the door to Jee’s room opened, two men stepping through, one of them John. Both men were wearing the now mandatory protective suits. Jee looked at them nervously.

  “Relax, Doctor,” John said reassuringly.

  “Nobody has told me what’s going to happen to me,” Jee pleaded.

  “Well, we’re kind of busy.” John sounded apologetic, but with the respirator he wore, Jee couldn’t tell for sure.

  “Will I be shipped off base with the rest of the infected?” Before Jee had been diagnosed, it had been hard to miss the dozens of men being loaded into trucks under armed guard. The uninfected outnumbered the infected which was fortunate, the promise of a vaccine keeping everyone in line. For now.

  “No,” John said. “You are too important for that. We need you and your colleagues to take the research that has been acquired and get vaccine production up as fast as you can.” The soldier with John opened up a pouch on his utility belt and extracted a pre-loaded syringe.

  “Is that…?” Jee began.

  “Vaccine? Yep,” John said, a smile in his voice. “We think we can spare some for you.” Jee didn’t need telling to roll up her arm, and she did so excitedly. “We will still need to monitor you to ensure the vaccine takes, but you are still in the incubation period, so we are hopeful.” Jee wasn’t too hopeful, and neither was John if he was honest. Lazarus worked fast. Even though the research gathered from the Gaia facility showed that the vaccine could be administered post exposure, it wasn’t guaranteed to work.

  “Should you be wasting it like that?” Strangely, Jee felt guilty accepting it. There were people who had escaped the infection who would have a better chance with that dose. For her, the chances were fifty/fifty at best.

  “I wouldn’t call it a waste,” John insisted.

  “But it’s not guaranteed to work.”

  “Nothing in life is guaranteed, Doctor.”

  “But…”

  “Jesus Jee, just take the goddamn vaccine, will you?” If she said no, John was willing to pin her down and force it on her. Jee relented, nodding her reluctant acceptance. The soldier with John administered the vaccine and then stepped out of the room.

  “Am I still allowed to work while we wait and see what happens?”

  “Allowed? It’s expected. You will have to work in isolation, but you won’t be alone. There are a few of your fellow scientists in the same boat as you.”

  So she would get to work. Either the vaccine would defeat Lazarus, or the virus would take her. If the standard path of the virus was anything to go by, Jee had several days left to wait and worry. If she was going to die, she could at least spend those last moments doing what she was good at.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Jee said, rubbing her arm. The soldier hadn’t been particularly gentle in his technique.

  “What about?”

  “Reece.”

  “Jesus, Jee,” John said, clearly exasperated.

  “Just hear me out,” Jee implored. John shook his head and waited for Jee to continue.

  “You don’t need to lock her in a room. Reece is a trained law enforcement officer. She could be of use in the defence of the base.”

  “Yeah, and who’s going to look after the kid?”

  “Jessy. They aren’t a danger to anyone. There’s no need to keep them segregated.”

  “Not a danger, huh?” John responded. “Look, I’ll take it under advisement okay.” Jee gave him a half smile. That was probably the best response she could hope for at the moment.

  26.08.19

  The Peak District, UK

  The information sent by the DIA had been forwarded by satellite relay to the Echelon listening post at Menwith Hill. North of Leeds, it had so far been spared the zombie onslaught, those working there completely free from Lazarus. What remained of the MI13 network allowed Nick access to that data, Nick downloading it
onto the battered laptop that had clearly seen better days. If that laptop ever failed, he would be cut off from whatever was left of MI13.

  Nick sat apprehensively in front of the laptop, sifting through the hundreds of files Campbell had sent him, looking for the evidence he didn’t want to find. The files on the viral research meant nothing to him, so he ignored them. It was the Gaia operational files that he concentrated on, the true extent of Gaia’s reach and influence incredible. How had this organisation gone unnoticed for so long? They had their fingers in almost every western government, blackmail and bribery both used to equal effect. It was evidence of how badly his own organisation had failed in its mission to protect the realm. Mother had been an exceptional operative.

  Not for the first time, Nick felt like he was a failure. He realised he was being harsh on himself, but he couldn’t shake the disappointment he felt in his own part in all this.

  Natasha had offered to help him go through the documents, but Nick point blank told her it was something he had to do himself. He needed something to fill his time he had lied, which was something she seemed to accept. Additionally, he told her the half-truth that there was something in there he was looking for specifically. If she had any concerns, she didn’t show it, the contents of the conversation he’d had with Campbell told to nobody, not even Jeff or Haggard.

  It was bad that he now felt distrust for the people he depended on the most. That was what people like Campbell did, twisting their way into your thoughts with promises and half-truths. If there was a traitor, then it would be for Nick to uncover such. Part of him didn’t want to know, any damage that could be done by such an individual now purely in the past. That wasn’t the part of him that had control of his actions, however, and Nick worked his way through the folders and subfolders, finding information about former members of the British government that MI13 should have been aware of.

  It wasn’t a reassuring realisation to learn that the secret organisation he had dedicated his life to had failed in its duty in so many ways.