The Lazarus Impact

by Todarello, Vincent

  “I think I heard it too,” Marcus says.

  “I knew we should’ve set up camp while it was still light out,” Brandon mutters.

  “Hold it right there!” a voice booms from the darkness. They stop dead in their tracks. “The whole place is booby trapped. You’d better go back the way you came.”

  “We don’t want any trouble. Just passing through,” Marcus says as he looks around for the source of the voice.

  “Well, pass through somewhere else,” the voice answers.

  “Is that Wolf?” Brandon talks to himself. He recognizes the voice, the rustic Australian twang. “Wolf Camden, is that you?” he asks louder. There’s no response.

  “Just the man I need to see,” Dr. Vogel adds. “Wolf, it’s your doctor. Dr. Vogel.”

  There’s silence for a few moments, then the rustling of tree branches followed by the crunching of snowy footfalls. Wolf emerges from the darkness. “You’ve got some set of stones showing yourself to me,” he stares at Dr. Vogel as he walks closer. “Locking me up like some kind of wild animal?”

  Brandon’s jaw drops in awe. He’s star struck. Dr. Vogel bumbles his words, trying to figure out an excuse that might satisfy. But before he can spit out anything coherent, Wolf decks him in the face with a right hook. The blow knocks him off his feet. Wolf stands with his fists clenched in anger.

  Marcus tightens his grip on the scythe. “Take it easy now. We said we don’t want any trouble.” Wolf pays no mind to Marcus’ menacing mannerisms. He just stares at Dr. Vogel.

  Dr. Vogel spits out some blood in his mask. The shot made him bite his tongue. “You’re right Wolf. I deserved that. But I don’t think you realize how important you might be.”

  Wolf takes a few steps forward and stands over Dr. Vogel, fuming as he looks down. Marcus squares up his feet, ready to defend his flock with the flash of his blade if needed. The living are worse than the dead, he thinks again, wondering if this is another test. But then Wolf extends an open hand to help Dr. Vogel stand up.

  “Holy shit, it’s fucking Wolf Camden!” exclaims Brandon.

  “Let’s keep a lid on it, shall we?” Wolf suggests. “Otherwise they’ll find us.”

  #

  Against his better judgment, Wolf lights another fire for his guests. They’re cold and wet, and he figures the benefits of company and social interaction outweigh the benefits of a good night’s sleep. He’s still leery of them, but after a quick assessment he sees no real threat. They’re just passing through, after all.

  “So where are you all headed?” Wolf asks.

  “A prepper compound west of here. Not too far either,” Brandon answers. “Would you help us get there?”

  “I’m staying here. Going to wait it out until this whole thing passes, and do what I do best,” Wolf says.

  “I don’t think this place will be safe for much longer,” Sheryl adds. “The barricades are breaking, and people are carrying the disease west. I mean, we’re all okay. None of us breathed it in or were bitten, but we were there when the quarantine broke. We were only on a small road and it was still bad, so I can’t imagine how insane it is now on the main ones.”

  “It’s safe to breathe here, or so I’ve heard,” Wolf says. “I’m doing fine without the mask.”

  “You’re a special case, Wolf. It might be safe to breathe but I certainly wouldn’t take any chances. By the way, the samples I took from you were destroyed. I was trying to get them to the CDC. I thought maybe we could figure out a way to stop this disease.”

  “How’s that?” Marcus asks.

  “Well, I used to work for the CDC. If we were to get down there with someone who’s immune, they might be able to make a cure,” Dr. Vogel explains.

  “That’s a long hike,” Wolf says.

  “But a noble one,” Dr. Vogel says. “Worth the risk, I’d say.”

  “Aye. I’ll give you your samples then,” Wolf says. “But don’t you need some medical equipment?”

  “Yes. We could go back to my hospital, but...”

  “Bad idea,” Sheryl says. “Hospitals aren’t safe. Trust me.”

  “They’ve got medical supplies where we're going,” Brandon says. “You could come with us.” There's excitement in his eyes. The idea of traveling with Wolf is right up there with his thoughts of Apocalypta in lingerie. He has no idea what she looks like, but in his mind she's a hot pin-up or a porn star. And she’d be all over him if she knew he was hanging with Wolf.

  “Well, what I was going to say is that samples are one thing, but if I could get you to the CDC with me, then we’ll have a better chance at solving this thing,” Dr. Vogel says.

  “You have any idea how dangerous a trip like that can be?” Wolf says.

  “I can imagine,” says Dr. Vogel.

  “On foot no less. The roads are death traps. And you don't think they'll try to lock me away just like you did? Stuff me in some windowless room 12 floors underground behind decontamination walls? No thanks, mate. I’ll help you get to this compound and give you your samples, but that's as far as I'll go.”

  “I’ll take what I can get,” Dr. Vogel says.

  #

  Marcus leafs through the Bible beside the fire, taking note of passages that mention the dead coming back to life.

  Michael eyes him and walks over. He scoffs. "You went back to the truck for supplies and this is what you came back with? The Bible and your threshing blade?"

  "It's a miracle. Completely unscathed," Marcus holds up the Bible to show him.

  "A miracle, eh? So what does your book tell you about what's happening to us all? Is it the end of the world?" Michael asks sarcastically.

  "Isaiah says: 'Your dead will live. Their bodies will rise. Hide yourself until this wrath passes by. The Lord is coming to punish the sinners.' And Jeremiah says: 'I will make them eat the flesh of their sons and daughters.' Jesus rose from the dead. Lazarus rose from the dead. Only God can do that... can make people come back."

  Michael rolls his eyes. He can't even begin to get into it with Marcus on this stuff. "Ridiculous," he says. "You know... I look at this from a scientific perspective. Zombies aren't fit, as a species. It's survival of the fittest out there, and they’re on the path to extinction. They can't use tools or weapons. They don't think. Their method of reproducing is also their food source and a dangerous predator. Humans. Thinking, intelligent humans. Just imagine if every time you wanted to fuck or eat, you needed to fight a tiger that was smarter than Einstein first." The group laughs.

  "So then we're in agreement," Marcus says. "The Bible says to wait for the wrath to pass. And you say the zombies are doomed for extinction anyway."

  "Yeah but isn't this the end of the world for you?" Michael asks.

  "I don't know. Revelation is the book about the end times. It says a beast will come from the abyss and kill us. Our dead will sit in the streets for three days and then rise and strike fear into the living," Marcus explains.

  "And you believe this stuff? Like in a literal sense?" Michael asks, this time more sincerely.

  "These are prophetic visions. They're not meant to be taken so literally. If you read some of the other zombie passages in the proper element, then nothing really predicts any of this. They're about specific things in the old days. I just look to it for guidance. I recognize that some things are too powerful for me to control, and that there are things bigger than me at work here."

  "So you'll just sit around and wait for things to get better? To hell with science trying to find a cure?" Michael asks.

  "I never said that," Marcus responds.

  "You know what we should do," Brandon jumps in. "We should get suits of armor, so the zombies can't bite us. Imagine how sick it would be to have a full suit of armor? The knights of the apocalypse... That would be a totally kickass video game concept."

  "That would make you too slow and noisy," Wolf reasons. "Better off with something like bulletproof vest material, so you can move quieter, quicker, and be more agile
."

  Brandon nods his head in agreement. "Yeah... we need to get that. Sweet."

  The sound of clanging climbing hooks breaks the conversation. Then the sound of pebbles rattling in a can, then car keys.

  "Anyone wander off?" Wolf asks. Everyone looks around at each other but no one is missing. "Get ready, or climb a tree. They're coming from both sides. Silent weapons only. No guns," Wolf whispers.

  Sheryl and Amy climb up into Wolf's tree. Dr. Vogel grabs a medium sized hunting knife that was plunged into the dirt close to the fire. Marcus stands alert with his scythe in hand. Michael, Brandon and Wolf each grab one of the nearby spears that Wolf sharpened out of branches. They can hear the beasts groaning and shambling through the dead leaves and snow.

  Three of them appear out of the darkness. Their eyes glow with pissy bloodshot luminance. Brandon is eager to vanquish them. He plunges his spear into the lead zombie’s face, killing it instantly. The other two reach for him, but Marcus slashes one clean in half at the waist and then stomps on its head. Dr. Vogel jabs his knife down into the top of the other’s skull.

  Michael and Wolf fend off two apiece from the rear. One has a busted leg, a twisted torso, and its arm is shorn off clean at the elbow. It was clearly in some sort of car accident. Michael takes that one down first. He clubs it with the spear, knocking it down to the ground easily. Then he steps up and jams the spear down with two hands into the beast’s right eye. Marcus and Dr. Vogel come over to help with the rest.

  Brandon takes in the scene. “Awesome.”

  “Look out behind you!” Sheryl yells down from the tree top. A zombie runs toward Brandon from further back in the woods.

  A loud snap echoes off the trees. Then the woody zipping sound of rope being yanked tightly across tree bark fills the forest. Brandon turns to see a zombie dangling in the air by its feet, hanging upside down from one of Wolf’s snares just a few strides away.

  “It worked! Excellent,” Wolf says. “Too bad I didn’t get you in one of my traps, eh?” He nudges Brandon with his elbow. Brandon laughs. “Whew! Smells like shit, doesn’t it?” Wolf holds his nose in disgust.

  “The mask blocks most of it, but sometimes I can smell them anyway,” Brandon says. “They piss and crap themselves when they turn. Throw up too. Nasty.”

  “Come on then. Let’s go put him out of his misery, shall we?” Wolf suggests.

  “Wait, wait!” Dr. Vogel says just before Brandon skewers the dangling beast. “I’d like to examine him first.”

  “Be my guest,” says Wolf. “Best to tape his mouth shut, just to be safe, yeah?” Wolf rummages through a pack by the campfire and flings Dr. Vogel a roll of duct tape.

  Dr. Vogel manages to wrap the tape around the zombie’s head, covering its mouth. He binds its hands together too as a precaution. First he checks for a pulse. There is one; steady and fast. He presses his ear against the zombie’s chest next, listening for any blockage in breathing. There is none, but the body is cool to the touch. “It’s as if they’re completely rebooted after they die. They breathe, and have a heartbeat. But they’re cold as ice.” Just then a stream of warm liquid courses over Dr. Vogel’s hands as he rests them on the zombie’s stomach. Piss. “Ugh! Digestive system still works too,” he adds as he plunges his hands into some fresh snow to clean them.

  “Dude, you just got pissed on by a zombie?” Brandon bursts into laughter. The zombie writhes and struggles as it hangs there. “Can we kill it now?”

  “Sure, go ahead. I’m completely baffled,” Dr. Vogel says. Before he can even finish, Brandon has his spear lodged into the beast’s brain.

  “They have a keen sense of smell too. For blood. They’re like sharks,” Wolf adds, pointing at the bottom edge of Dr. Vogel’s mask. A line of blood trickles down his neck from under the mask.

  Dr. Vogel wipes it away. “That’ll teach you for hitting me.”

  “It was worth it.” Wolf smiles. “We have to get out of here at first light. Sheryl’s right. It’s getting too dangerous because of the barricades failing. Get some rest, everyone. I’ll take first watch. If anything happens I’ll wake you up.”

  CHAPTER 44

  Sheryl wakes early, as the darkness fades back into the light of morning. She smiles as she watches Brandon sleep underneath the tarp of his military tent. She knows she’s slipping from herself, attaching a mother’s love to this bizarre child. But she lets it happen. It’s the only way she can cope. Her eyes play tricks on her in the dimly lit grey woods, turning his face into Stephen’s, then BJ’s. When Brandon’s eyes burst open her skin jumps at the memory of seeing BJ’s eyes glimmer with evil in the dark morgue.

  “Jesus, lady. What the fuck are you looking at?” Brandon mumbles as he turns over and gives his back to Sheryl.

  One minute he’s giddy like a child, and the next acting like an adult, Sheryl thinks. He’s going through an extremely awkward phase. This whole meteor thing isn’t helping either.

  Soon everyone is up. There are arguments about trying to take Wolf’s truck from the nearby highway, but Wolf assures them they’re more likely to survive out in the wilderness, off the road. They just have to make the long hike to the compound. Wolf says it’ll be a couple of days, depending on terrain and weather conditions. They pack up some gear and start walking.

  Brandon sings more morbid versions of Christmas songs as they crunch through the icy leaves in the woods. “Later on, we’ll expire. As we’re gnawed beside the fire. We’re all so afraid of what the meteor made. Walkin’ in a zombie wonderland.”

  “Shh... Don’t want to make any more noise than we already are,” Wolf says.

  “Hey check it out.” Amy points. “There’s a clearing up ahead.” The woods trickles away in the distance and opens up to a frosty dead grassland that stretches out and slopes downward.

  “Quiet. Everyone stop moving,” Wolf says. A moment later their creaky footsteps give way to a quiet rush of water. “A stream. Just down that slope no doubt. If we follow it up a ways we can probably cross it without having to get wet. There’ll be a bridge eventually,” Wolf says.

  “What difference does it make? We’re already soaked,” complains Michael.

  “Not down to your skin. Believe me. If you step into that stream and the water goes up to your chest, you can go into cardiac arrest from hypothermia within moments in this cold. Especially if you don’t warm your core back up fast enough and put on dry clothes.”

  “He’s right,” Dr. Vogel adds.

  “Yeah. Duh.” Brandon scoffs at Michael. “Don’t you watch his show?”

  “I don’t watch television at all. It poisons the brain,” he responds. “Just like video games and comic books.”

  “Friggin’ hippie fag,” Brandon utters under his breath.

  “Stay quiet,” Marcus says.

  “Yeah, and keep close to the woods line, not out in the open,” Wolf adds.

  #

  After a few miles they see a huge patch of black grass up ahead in the clearing. They start to speculate about what it could be as they draw near.

  “Burned. I bet they did one of those flame thrower things there like we saw on the other side of the barricades,” Brandon says.

  “No. Look. It’s moving,” Amy says.

  “I hear them squawking. It’s birds. Crows,” Marcus says.

  “I think you’re right,” Wolf adds.

  “Only one way to find out,” Brandon says as he hurls a stone toward the cluster with girlish form.

  The rock lands well short of the black mass, but the sound startles them. A thousand crows instantly take to the air, blackening the morning sky. The sound of flapping and screeching fills their ears. Several birds flop back down to the ground in death, while others fly erratically. Still some are more aggressive, crashing into others mid-flight and pecking at their bodies.

  “Holy shit. They’re infected,” Michael says.

  “You think?” Amy asks.

  “Of course. Crows are scavengers. They eat t
he dead. Then the meteor shit gets into their bodies and they turn,” he explains.

  “We’d better hide. If they make for us it’ll be like a Hitchcock film out here in no time,” Wolf suggests. “Back into the woods. Now!”

  A swarm of undead crows spirals in the air, chasing down a flock of those still living that tries to evade them.

  “They’re heading for the woods!” Amy shouts as the birds make a turn in their direction. Some crows disappear into the canopy over their heads.

  “I see a bridge,” Sheryl says. “Look past where the birds were on the meadow, up ahead.”

  “Run for it and hide underneath. Now! Go!” Wolf says, and they all sprint out across the meadow toward the bridge.

  A flickering shadow hovers over them as they run. The birds are everywhere; in the air above, zipping by their sides, dead underfoot, and dropping from the sky all around them, peppering the ground. They reach a vacant dirt road and a lonely wooden bridge that spans the stream. They crouch under the planks along the river bank, staying on dry land as the birds soar and screech overhead.

  “It’s like watching fighter planes in a dogfight,” Amy says.

  “This is bad. Real bad. See? This is why you don’t eat meat. This is why you go veggie. Man wasn’t meant to eat meat,” Michael says.

  “What the hell are you talking about, mate?” Wolf asks.

  “Think about what this does to the food supply. If birds, why not chickens, or fish, or any other animal that can get infected from eating the virus? And then if we eat the animal, what happens to us?” Michael asks.

  “It’s not a virus. I’ve studied it. And if it alters animal cells then why not plant cells?” Dr. Vogel asks. “I mean let’s be truly open minded about it, rather than just try to shove a food agenda down someone’s throat, no pun intended. And cooking it might kill it, whatever it is.”

  “Plants have rigid cells, right? I bet this stuff can’t penetrate them, so it’d be as easy as just washing the dust off. It’s not like plants can bite people, or have blood,” Michael argues.