The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 5): The Last

by Deville, Sean

  “She insisted,” Howell added. Of course she did, thought Reece. The child had grown up too fast. Would there ever be a childhood left for her?

  “Hi Lizzy,” Jee said through a pained smile.

  “Hello Doctor Lee. Are you really sick?”

  “I'm afraid so,” said Jee. As if to prove it, she descended into a coughing fit, blood erupting from her lips. The aerosol from that would have infected anyone in the room who didn’t possess immunity, natural or otherwise.

  “I’m glad you didn’t turn out to be bad,” Lizzy added when Jee was able to catch her breath. Reece felt herself choke back further tears.

  “So am I.” There was no need for Jee to apologise for any part she’d had in Schmidt’s experiments. If not for Jee, things would have been a lot worse for the immune.

  Reece picked up the syringe, it felt heavy in her grasp. She held it gently for several seconds, a wave of uncertainty nearly consuming her. Reluctantly she placed it in Jee’s waiting hand, watched as the doctor connected it to the IV line. Jee’s hands were shaking, and Reece found herself giving further aid to steady the doctor’s actions.

  “Thank you,” Jee almost whispered. A thumb lingered over the plunger, hesitant to do the final act. Once the solution was injected, Jee would rapidly fall unconscious. Then there would come respiratory depression and death quickly afterwards. It would be painless, a more pleasant fate than what actually awaited.

  “It was good to call you a friend, Clarise,” Jee managed to get the words out, despite the emotion that was churning her up inside.

  “Goodbye Jee.” Reece felt the arms around her clinch a little tighter. Jee depressed the plunger, felt the cold fluid pour into her vein. In sudden desperation she reached out, and Reece grabbed the desperate hand with her own.

  “I don’t want to die,” Jee implored. The act was done though, one of the bravest acts Reece had seen anyone commit.

  “We won’t forget you,” Reece insisted. She felt Howell’s grip clench a little. It was okay, that hand said, let it come. Reece did, the pain washing out of her, Jee’s eyes slowly closing as the drug took effect. Reece held on until Jee’s fingers fell weak, the arm being allowed to slip onto the covers. There was no machine monitoring Jee’s vitals, what was the point.?

  They stood there to keep Reece’s promise. Jee didn’t die alone.

  “Lizzy doesn’t need to be here for this,” Reece insisted. Jee’s chest had stopped moving, but even in death the black tendrils continued to spread across the skin. How long before the resurrection occurred? Did they have minutes or hours?

  “I can get one of the soldiers to come in,” Howell insisted.

  “No,” Reece said, extracting the knife from its sheath, the one Howell had given her with the rest of the army gear. “It should be me.” She knew she didn’t want to do this, but it was the right thing to do.

  “Come on Lizzy,” Howell insisted. Initially the girl resisted, but she was easily pulled away. Even with a broken arm, Reece found she could hold Jee’s head to one side to allow her to inflict the knife.

  “Goodbye Jee,” Reece said again, the knife plunging home. Reece was surprised by how little blood there was and how easy it was to pass the steel up into the brain stem. She would have stayed there longer, only the alarm klaxon suddenly started to sound.

  “Attention, breach of the base perimeter. All research personnel head for your demarcation areas.” The door behind her opened, Howell holding it for her.

  “Reece, we have to go.” Could the undead get down here? Did they have time to make their escape?

  27.08.19

  Leeds, UK

  Michelle didn’t have any difficulty finding the room she had woken up in the day before. On the way, she made a point of groping every door handle she could, even spitting on her own hands to increase the possible viral load. Inside the chemistry of her skull, the virus altered and manipulated her neurons to tell her that what she was doing was right and just. There was no guilt at her actions, only the burning desire for retribution that she didn’t try and analyse.

  The Judas doctor wasn’t present, two of the other beds now full, the snooty book reading woman having apparently been discharged. The room itself was quiet, the soft breathing of the two resident patients telling Michelle they were all asleep. That was ideal, she said to herself, that was just perfect. Her hands seemed constantly sweaty now, her body emitting a foul odour as it began the final trip to extinction. The headache was still there, but it had lost much of its sharpness, more of a dull throbbing insistence now. She briefly caught a look at herself on a wall mirror and was satisfied that any skin lesions that were manifesting were still being hidden by the make-up she had applied. Michelle still had enough time.

  Personal discomfort was irrelevant right now. What was more important was infecting as many people as possible.

  The first of the patients she approached was a young woman, and Michelle had no idea what was wrong with her. Whatever sickness had overcome this frail being wasn’t evident, and bending down, Michelle gave her a gentle prod with her finger. The sleeper did not awaken, so it was easy for Michelle to run her damp hand over the exposed skin on the woman’s arm. That was how easy it was to transfer Lazarus, and she did the same for the second patient, this one stirring slightly. His injury was more obvious, a leg in full plaster cast, so he was probably dosed up with painkillers. Would he become a hobbling zombie?

  This wasn’t enough, she needed to infect more, the certainty of this rampaging through her thoughts.

  “Michelle?” The voice came from behind her, and she turned to see Doctor Holleron standing there.

  “I was just checking he was okay,” Michelle lied. The deception came easily to her. “He was making a strange noise.” Holleron came over, not suspecting the true motives Michelle had here. What was Michelle even doing here, though?

  This was the doctor who had kicked her out onto the streets in the dead of night. This was the woman who had left Michelle vulnerable to the undead that had been prowling the streets. It didn’t matter that Holleron wasn’t to know that Mark(Z) had risen to cause mayhem. In Michelle’s now almost complete insanity, only revenge mattered. Logic simply didn’t come into it.

  “He seems okay to me,” Holleron said. “But what about you? What are you even doing here?”

  “I came to ask you again about the antidepressants.” There she was, fibbing again, the words flowing forth so freely. Michelle had never been accomplished at lying, and yet now she was a world champion at it.

  “I told you I couldn’t help you with that,” Holleron insisted.

  “Yes, you did, but it’s not right. You’re a doctor, you should be helping me.”

  “My hands are tied, Michelle.” Holleron found Michelle’s stare too intense, and she broke eye contact. Her patient from yesterday hadn’t been this confident before. The frightened little mouse seemed to have found some fire in her personality. “I can’t help you anymore.” Michelle actually scoffed at that.

  “Help me? You haven’t given me any help.” There was scorn in her voice. “You shouldn’t have sent me home last night.” There was now an accusation in Michelle’s words which sent alarm bells ringing in the doctor’s mind. After a while, you got a sense of when a patient wasn’t quite right in the head, and Holleron was getting that feeling right now. She also noticed that Michelle had put herself in-between herself and the door, blocking the exit.

  “You were ready to be discharged last night,” Holleron insisted. She made to move past Michelle, but the agitated patient shifted to block her. “You need to leave now,” Holleron insisted.

  “Not until you apologise.” What the hell? thought Holleron.

  “What's going on here, Michelle?” One shout and people would come running. Michelle didn’t look like a threat, but Holleron had seen how violent psychotic individuals could be. The doctor wasn’t going to stand around and risk getting into a confrontation. She pushed past Michelle, this time the f
ormer patient moved aside. Except that was a ruse, Michelle grabbing the doctor’s wrist painfully. The doctor couldn’t help notice the moisture on Michelle’s hands. And she smelt as if she hadn’t showered in days.

  Holleron pulled herself free and backed away.

  “I want you to say sorry,” Michelle insisted.

  “Sorry for what?” Holleron asked, backing away further.

  “The streets last night weren’t safe. I was assaulted by a man.” Technically what Michelle was saying had truth behind it. “You should have let me stay here.” Michelle wanted to scream at the doctor, to see the look of despair that would rip through her features when Michelle told her about the Lazarus they were all now infected with, but something stopped her. Lazarus needed time to work. Even now the people in the food queue, Mitch and everyone else were spreading the contagion to people they interacted with. If Michelle gave the game away now, the men with guns could still likely stop it in time.

  “I’m sorry, are you all right?”

  “I ran away before he could hurt me.” Was that a lie, though? She hadn’t physically been hurt, the infected soldier only grabbing her out of desperation. “I just wanted you to know though. Wanted to look you in the eye and tell you that you can’t play God with people’s lives.” Michelle stepped towards her, satisfaction blossoming on her face. Holleron retreated to the door. There were people down the corridor within her peripheral vision. Whatever danger might have existed here had passed, unless Michelle was hiding a weapon of some kind.

  “If you don’t go now, I will call the guard.” Michelle just nodded.

  “Oh don't worry, I’m leaving.” Holleron noticed her accuser seemed calmer now, as if something had been resolved. Was that it? Was that what this was all about? She watched Michelle leave, monitoring her progress as the vengeful woman retreated back down the corridor.

  Michelle, for her part, felt like she had done everything required of her. Required by whom though? It seemed like she’d had a mission to achieve, a burning task that needed fulfilling. Turning the corridor, she was surprised when a child ran into her, a harassed adult close on the kid’s heels. Michelle picked the young girl up; she couldn’t have been more than six.

  “Thank you,” the child’s carer said. “She’s always getting out.”

  “Mischievous one, is she?” Michelle enquired. She’d had no idea that children were being kept here, but it made sense with this building being a school.

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.” Michelle handed the child over. Deep down, a voice of rebellion tried to scream that this wasn’t right, that this wasn’t part of the plan. But Michelle kept her face placid, the death sentence she had just instilled merely an unfortunate end result. The child would have died anyway, it was inevitable.

  There would be more than one child kept here. How long before they were all infected?

  27.08.19

  Frederick, USA

  Reece was still amazed at the extent of the facility she found herself in. To think that her government had been able to build all this without the knowledge of the general population.

  There was a problem, though. The underground platform that serviced the mag-line was full of desperate and frantic people who jostled to try and get into position for when the next train arrived. The trains were designed to ferry passengers in secret between the various clandestine subterranean bases in the region, but they weren’t meant for evacuating large numbers of people in one go. These trains worked by magnetic levitation, which meant they were fast and efficient. But they were also small, holding no more than twenty people each. It was a long way from being a mass transit system.

  In addition to the trains, there were other tunnels that allowed for the transport of goods by electric vehicles, but those routes were a lot slower. It also didn’t help that all the electric vehicles had already departed, dragging storage containers holding anything that could be salvaged from Fort Detrick. As was often the way, things were deemed more important than people’s lives.

  Some hardy souls had chosen to march these tunnels. They felt it would be easier and safer to walk the considerable distance rather than wait around for a train that might never arrive.

  The defenders on the surface had two purposes. To hold the line so that Fort Detrick could be evacuated, and then try to survive by whatever means possible. The tanks and armoured personnel carriers that had been brought to the army base could protect the men from the zombie threat, but they couldn’t hold back the invasion of the base now that the perimeter defences had been compromised. Whilst some of the metallic behemoths were attacked by the undead, most of the zombies chose to ignore them, instead going for more viable targets. Like soldiers on the ground, as well as the array of buildings that held such promise for them.

  The train platform was on the second sub-level, one up from where Reece had been held for what seemed like days, but what was actually just hours. As supposedly safe below the surface as they were, Reece suddenly jolted by the explosion that rocked the surroundings, dust falling from the reinforced ceiling. Whilst it was unlikely the concrete roof above them would cave in, the worry of such just added to the mountain already pressing on Reece’s shoulders. Howell barely reacted, but Reece knew enough to know that whatever had just happened wasn’t to the benefit of anything living. This was war, and humanity was losing ground rapidly.

  Despite Howell being with them, and despite Reece now being dressed as a soldier, they were at the back of the pack, unable to push closer to the edge of the platform through the massed throng. And why should they be given any kind of privileged access? Reece didn’t feel she was more important than anybody else. There was definitely no women and children first policy here, Lizzy the only child present. Your evacuation was determined by how essential you were, either in terms of your rank or in how vital you were to fighting the microbiological war against Lazarus. If this had been the Titanic, most of the women and children would have gone down with the ship.

  There was also a certain degree of first come first served because most of the senior people had already left. The trip by train to Site R was only fifteen minutes in duration, but with the numbers waiting, it might as well have been in China. Selfishness and belligerence were starting to blossom in the eyes of the people around Reece. This wasn’t the place to be if panic broke out. In such a relatively confined space, the crowd could surge and swallow you up at a moment’s notice.

  “Hold onto my hand, sweet-pee,” Reece said to Lizzy, squeezing the child’s hand for emphasis. Lizzy felt like she was surrounded by giants.

  If Jee had still been alive, she would have been one of the first to have left, such would have been her privilege. She was no use in a military capacity, but her knowledge and skill would have been deemed vital to the fight against the invisible aspect of Lazarus. The rest of the more important scientific staff, the ones who had been working tirelessly with Jee, had already left, taking their research and any remaining vaccine with them.

  The best and brightest were long gone, so Reece was surprised to see John standing three people over from them. The captain was in charge of the security of the research in the base, so with the bulk of the scientists all shipped off, there was technically no mission for him here now. It would seem John felt his duty was best served by remaining here and helping as many people as possible evacuate.

  How sickeningly noble.

  Perhaps John had volunteered to stay behind and see this thing through to the end. Whatever the reason, it was clear he was listening intently to his handheld radio. Reece watched as the captain's brow furrowed, John suddenly pushing his way in the opposite direction to the one people wanted to go, the crowd parting before him and the two soldiers that flanked him. Reece met eyes with him briefly as he passed them, John almost surprised to see her. He didn’t hide the concern that was now so obviously consuming him.

  This wasn’t good, thought Reece. Whatever had just happened had changed the balance of survival for those
on the platform. If John had any objection to Reece being here, he didn’t say anything. Likely she was considered to be of little consequence now. Whatever event had just occurred was certainly far more pressing. Reece watched John leave and knew that they too needed to be out of here. She felt too confined, the level of agitation in those milling around already rising.

  On the surface, the undead were pouring through a breach they had created. Despite the firepower that had been gathered in the base, the undead numbers had just been too great, forcing down a weak portion of fencing, the razor wire irrelevant to them, the bullets and the grenades damaging but often not ending those brought back by Lazarus. There were thousands of decimated bodies scattered outside the perimeter and inside its wire, but tens of thousands continued the assault. Wave after wave of the undead charged from all directions, surrounding the base, climbing the walls, giving the defenders too many targets to shoot at.

  There were other creatures involved in the assault. Rats, former household pets and a flock of zombified sparrows that were still early in their conversion which meant they retained the ability to fly. Out of the sky they came, dive-bombing the soldiers, almost impossible targets to hit with machine gun fire alone. In this battle, it was these smaller critters that tipped the tide, slipping through cracks and flying into the base from all around, sending veteran soldiers into a blind panic.

  Things were even worse than that now. In the ensuing battle, an explosion had ripped open an entrance to the building directly above where Reece now waited impatiently. The undead were clawing their way in, virtually unopposed. This sub-level did not have the heavily restricted access seen on sub-level fifteen, the undead threatening to flood into the whole of the complex. From there they could access the very tunnels that would lead them into a vast underground network that spread beneath the continental United States.

  That could not be allowed to happen.

  Schmidt’s domain had only been accessible by a single lift and a ladder shaft which had now all but been destroyed. Sub-level two was general administration, so despite the steel doors that guarded the staircases down, the undead would eventually be able to penetrate that. The virus would somehow get down here. Everyone here was now on borrowed time, but then perhaps they always had been.