Howell’s own guilt had led him to jump at the opportunity to be a guinea pig.
The ethics of the experiment were open to question. They had all been told they would be receiving the vaccine and the virus, but there was no way for them to know which would be given first. They all knew there was a chance they could be getting the vaccine post-exposure, but there were still volunteers. Howell’s mind didn’t even venture to that possibility. Even with his experiences with Schmidt, he still trusted the US military to do the right thing when it came to the men who served for it. That was what this country was supposed to be about after all. If Reece had been given a chance, she would have taken him aside and counselled him on the wisdom of the choices he was making, but he hadn’t seen her since they had exited the lift together.
He just wanted to do what he could to help test the vaccine. It seemed like the right thing to do, some sort of penance for the way he had stood and watched Schmidt carry out her increasingly bizarre and horrendous actions. It was wrong of him to not try and at least limit the impact of what had occurred on sub-level fifteen.
There was doubt lurking in his thoughts, but it was still fresh, a mere bud growing amongst whole fields of patriotism and national pride. He had done what he thought was best for his country, stepping forward to take the vaccine which had already been injected. The restraints troubled him, but he knew what they were for. To stop him changing his mind about receiving the second injection, and to ensure everyone’s safety if for some reason the vaccine didn’t work. Was that a risk even worth considering?
There were rumours spreading that the President herself had already taken a dose of the vaccine, which was actually deliberate misinformation. President Fairchild had chosen caution over urgency and was awaiting the result of these trials before she allowed an alien substance to be injected into her. Give the troops hope, but don’t take any chances yourself. She was as selfish as she was fanatical.
A woman in a hazmat suit walked into Howell’s isolation room. Unlike sub-level fifteen, the walls of his room weren’t transparent, so he was unable to see the nineteen other test subjects in the adjoining rooms. Although it was unlikely that he was the only volunteer, he had no evidence, either way, to prove otherwise. He had been brought down here alone and under armed guard once he had given his acquiescence to the testing. The volunteers, of which there were surprisingly many, were chosen for their suitability. Howell was not privy to how the final decision was made and probably would have been somewhat upset to learn he was deemed to be one of the most expendable. Why risk the lives of those who still had valuable roles to fill when you had an ample supply of viral fodder to pick from? What would be lost if the vaccine didn’t protect him?
“How do you feel, Private?” the nurse asked.
“My arm throbs a bit, but nothing I can’t handle.” There would have been a time when he would have tried to flirt with his carer, but there really wasn’t any point in that sort of thing now. His flirtation would have been to try and promote a romance. He had been brought up to respect women, so he wasn’t the sort to just engage in mindless hedonism. When Howell went with a woman, it was based on a relationship of trust and mutual respect rather than just an opportunity to rut and empty his nut sack. Some people said he was old fashioned, even prudish, and even on deployment missions where death was risked on every patrol, he had never veered from this personal standard. And in the apocalypse, you didn’t even really want to bother considering that kind of thing unless you possessed some kind of immunity. Lazarus could be transmitted by the slightest touch, so it could be argued it was the deadliest sexually transmitted disease ever encountered. Imagine the military education video for that one. Keep your dick in your pants, or you might find yourself turning into a zombie!
“That’s to be expected. Pretty much everyone who has taken their dose says the same thing.” Which meant the nurse hadn’t been injected, thought Howell. The statement was also technically not true, the nurse knew, the vials containing the Lazarus much more watery and easier to accept initially by the body. Was that ironic? The nurse didn’t even consider it. “Ready for your second dose?” Had it been thirty minutes already?
“I’d like to say no, but I don’t really have a say in it,” Howell tried to joke, indicating the restraints. There was no way he could stop her delivering a healthy dose of Lazarus.
“No, you don’t” came the nurse’s answer. She seemed tired, almost dejected. There was the thought within her that what she was doing was wrong, but it didn’t stop her taking part in the experiment. She too was a volunteer, and at the successful completion of the experiment, there was a dose of the vaccine with her name on it, or so she had been promised. There were a lot of promises being made at the moment. Would they all actually be fulfilled? But what if the vaccine didn’t work? Could she live with that on her conscience? She reckoned she would cross that devastating bridge if she ever came across it.
The syringe with the second dose rested on a surgical table off to the side, had been since Howell was strapped down. The nurse lifted it up and inserted it into the muscle of Howell’s other arm. Great, now he risked pain from both limbs.
“Good luck, soldier,” the nurse said. Howell thanked her and felt the cold as the most lethal organism created by humanity was injected into him. Here goes nothing, he thought. Howell would either be a hero at the end of this or a corpse rotting in the ground. Was this a time of heroes though? They had promised to spare him the worst of it if the vaccine didn’t work. He felt he could believe those assurances now that the sadistic Professor Schmidt was no longer around. She had enjoyed her experiments a little too much.
The nurse extracted the needle, watching him carefully as she did so. They had already had one adverse reaction to the vaccine, an anaphylactic shock that had almost killed the patient. There was no telling how someone would react to being injected with a concentrated form of Lazarus. They tried to get the viral dose similar to that received in a zombie’s bite because that ultimately would be one of the main things the vaccine would need to protect against.
When you thought about it, the vaccine had two actions. Firstly, it protected against Lazarus. Perhaps more importantly, it hopefully stopped people from resurrecting at death, an important aspect to starve the growing undead armies of troops. Was that even worth considering though? Could a facility like Fort Detrick even produce enough vaccine to make a dent in the fight against Lazarus? The undead were already into their hundreds of millions, their numbers growing by the hour. With the country’s failed infrastructure, the vaccine could never be distributed effectively in time to treat enough people. The nurse had the sudden notion that what they were doing wouldn’t make the slightest impact.
For some reason, the apparent futility of it all made her feel more at ease with the part she was playing in all this. It was better to find a way to justify the evil you did rather than eat yourself up inside.
26.08.19
Leeds, UK
Andy found himself in a group of ten men, Gary the leader of this particular pack. He was kitted out in police riot gear, an L85A2 once again held in his gloved hands. Andy reckoned he certainly looked the part he was now being asked to play.
There was gunfire further up the road, the army going in hard and fast to clean out the last vestiges of the criminal gangs that had once plagued this part of Leeds. Most of the gunfire was going one way, any guns held by the criminals limited to small arms. Ask any dictator, gun control works when you needed to crack down on a population.
As Gary had previously noted, when it became clear how uncompromising the interim military government in Leeds had become, many of the less than law abiding individuals had left the city, most heading north away from the bulk of the country’s infected. The more intelligent amongst them had been able to see the totalitarian writing on the wall and had realised they would be prime targets for the pending suppression. In scenarios of national distress such as this, the violent often gained
the upper hand, but only if there wasn’t a better armed and more violent mob to oppose them. The criminal gangs hadn’t stood a chance against the biggest gang now on the block, so those with even an ounce of common sense had left. There was still plenty of scum left behind to mop up.
Gary indicated that the group he was leading should split into two as pre-arranged. Andy couldn’t deny the adrenaline rush that was flowing through him right now or the way it made him feel. He loved this, adored everything about it. It occurred to him that he had missed his calling in life, and he followed Gary to the terraced house on the left, the anticipation building within him.
The electrical power to this and the surrounding streets had been cut, so the road was pitch black, without even a moon to guide their way. The night vision goggles Andy had been loaned made up for that, the world all eerily green around him. Even with the already present sound of gunshots, the people in this property wouldn’t know what was about to hit them. That was the idea, go in hard and fast in a series of hammer blows to prevent anyone from fighting back. Once inside, they were only after one individual, so they didn’t think they would face much resistance. They certainly hadn’t at the last house they had stormed...it had been empty.
The front door of their target house was easily breached, screams resonating from inside as Andy followed the rest of the men inside. He was last in, possibly some form of punishment for his display of weakness earlier in the day but actually beneficial to his overall safety. Point men were the first to get shot at or attacked, those at the rear having less chance of injury if perhaps less of the glory. It didn’t matter, he would do what was expected of him without complaint and try and ensure he was still deemed useful to the defence of the city.
Andy found he liked his new life. It was certainly more thrilling and more engaging than his previous existence. He certainly wasn’t needing to rely on alcohol to get through this like so many of those around him.
“Armed police, everyone on the ground,” Gary shouted as he led the way through the ground floor. Andy and another man carefully ascended the stairs, Andy finding himself heading up first. Even with the shouts from the ground floor, the steps under him groaned loudly, betraying his presence. This would not be an ideal house for teenagers to creep around in, every step a possible betrayal. There was a shot from one of the downstairs rooms, another scream. Had Gary killed someone, or was it one of the other conscripts to this new paramilitary force?
“I said get on the fucking ground.” Gary again, a voice of thunder that seemed to fill the entire house. Men like him were essential to this new society. They were unforgiving, uncompromising and relentlessly loyal to those who gave the orders. In a way, you had to kind of feel sorry for them, for Gary and his kind could only really exist if they felt they had a part to play in the grand scheme of things. Andy didn’t know it, but working a desk had been slowly destroying Gary, the policeman’s alcohol habit forming long before Lazarus. The bureaucracy and the endless parade of miscreants through the police custody suite hadn’t been what Gary had signed up for. It was true to say that, for Gary, Lazarus had been the best thing to happen to him for a long time. He was able to unleash his inner tyrant, finally allowed to become the man he had always wanted to be. Thirty years ago, he would have been one of those coppers that “witnessed” suspects “accidentally” falling down the stairs. Those days had returned, in spades.
In the various shades of green that was Andy’s vision, a male figure came into view at the top of the stairs. He could tell it was a male because the man was naked save for boxer shorts. There was no mistaking the pistol the man held either, fear and fury etched into the face of the person whose castle Andy had just stormed. A gun was useless unless you were ready to use it, and this man wasn’t.
Some men would have hesitated, but Andy didn’t. The orders were clear…kill anyone that posed a threat, no matter of their age or sex. Andy put two rounds in the man’s torso, the body reeling from the impact of the bullets as it was thrown back against a wall. Reaching the top of the stairs, Andy’s partner disarmed the fallen figure, both invaders stepping over the slumped figure. Turning briefly, the partner put a round through the fallen man’s skull. Their victim had still been alive, despite Andy’s fatal shots.
You never could be too careful these days.
There were three bedrooms and a bathroom on the upper floor. Andy quickly established that the bathroom was empty, as was the first bedroom. Even over the shouts and commotion from downstairs, Andy could hear the pathetic cries coming from the second bedroom, and he nudged the door open, careful to stay out of the line of any fire that might be coming his way. He wasn’t really trained for this, but an Army Corporal had given them a basic run down of how to clear a house.
“If they can’t see you, they likely can’t shoot you.”
The only threat in the room was to Andy’s emotions. The two children couldn’t have been older than six, and they sat shivering in each other’s arms by the side of a double bed that owned the centre of the room. A boy and a girl, too young to understand the complexities of what was going on, but of an age where they could understand true terror when it presented itself. What were they doing here?
“Third bedroom’s clear,” Andy’s partner said. Andy barely knew the man, but already he preferred him to Kev. He didn’t have Kev’s grating personality. Sometimes you could just tell when someone wasn’t right, and Kev had slotted into that category easily. Andy didn’t feel anything that made him worry about this new guy, although as yet, he still didn’t know his name.
“I thought the kids had all been rounded up,” the partner exclaimed.
“Seems like they missed some.” Andy had no idea what to do with the children. Shouldering his weapon, he lifted the goggles from his eyes and pulled something from his utility belt.
“Glow stick,” he said, giving his partner time to adjust to the light that was about to burst forth. The bedroom erupted in a soft yellow glow which caused the little girl to squeal. Andy hated to think what he looked like to them. Just a different kind of monster to the ones that had been all over the TV a few days ago. Perhaps worse, because Andy’s actions weren’t driven by feral hunger.
Who had he shot, though? The father, an uncle? Gary would sort that out, just as he would likely sort out what to do with these errant children.
There were footsteps behind them, and the two armed men turned to see Gary ascending the stairs. Gary stepped carefully over the dead body, impressed that his men had been able to follow their orders. Perhaps Andy was going to be all right after all.
“Bagged one,” Andy said through the open bedroom door. “Came at us with a pistol.” Gary just nodded, pushing his way past them into the room.
“What the fuck’s this?” Gary demanded.
“Looks like the round-up missed a few,” Andy’s partner said. At the start of the militarisation of Leeds, the decision had been made to collect all the children under the age of thirteen into designated locations, for their protection you understand. For those with children under two, a parent was allowed to stay with the child, especially mothers who were still nursing. The children were the future, and it was easier to protect them if they were isolated and put together.
It was also deemed a means of extracting compliance from the adults. The mothers who went with them would help an array of teachers, social workers and medical staff that were redeployed to care for this huge collection of fragile young minds. And the soldiers, of course. Guarding the children was considered an important and easy duty. It also gave the less sadistic of the military something to focus on. It made it all feel right when you knew your oppressive actions were there to protect the most vulnerable in society.
The person who had masterminded the takeover of Leeds had known exactly what he was doing.
“I’ll contact social services,” Gary said. “They will be round to collect them.” There was no compassion in those words. If Gary had any concern for the plight o
f the children, he kept such matters to himself. They were an inconvenience, nothing more.
“How’s downstairs?” Andy enquired.
“Three in custody, two shot,” Gary replied. “Some bint came at me with a kitchen knife.” This dragged another howl of despair from the children. It suggested to Andy that their parents had been the ones on the wrong end of this encounter. Whilst Andy felt a stab of guilt at that, having lost a close relative at a young age, the parents really should have known better. If they had been compliant and unarmed, those here would have survived the night. They had only come here for one individual, and now there were two dead with three more likely to find themselves up before a firing squad. People were slow to learn it seemed.
Andy considered trying to console the children, but he knew there wasn’t a chance of that. Instead, the three men stepped from the bedroom, Andy closing the door behind him. He could still hear the children’s sobs, but at least now he didn’t have to look at them.
“Who fired the shots?” Gary asked. Andy told him what happened, pulling another glow stick from his belt. This one gave the upper hallway an orange hue. Gary patted Andy on the shoulder before descending downstairs. That was his reward for an operation well executed. It would seem Andy had done enough to restore some form of trust, but there would be a long road to travel in that regard. Gary wasn’t senior enough to make decisions about a person’s green or purple status, but Andy suspected he was able to whisper into the ears of the people that did.
The thing was, this was only the start of the night. Andy would do what was asked of him. That was the idea at least. It was just a shame that things often didn’t go to plan.
***
Michelle woke up with a start. She felt exhausted, and yet her whole body seemed to be bristling with nervous energy. She had just experienced the most horrible dream, where her eyes were being eaten by bugs infested with Lazarus. She sat up, noticed how her hands were shaking, distressed by how difficult it was for her to breathe. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she get through this like everyone else?
The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 5): The Last Page 10