The Lazarus Impact

by Todarello, Vincent

  “Yeah but they have plenty of fluids. And would you want to be the first person to try eating a plant that was just covered in zombie dust? It’s not worth the risk. Safer to just stick to canned goods for now, until we know more.”

  “That shit is just as toxic for your body,” Michael retorts. “We’re not meant to eat preservatives and industrial chemicals.”

  “Maybe. But they don’t turn you into a cannibal, and they’ll keep you alive if you’re starving.” Dr. Vogel fires back.

  “I like canned beans,” Brandon adds out of nowhere. They all stare at him curiously for a moment, not having any idea what the hell he’s talking about. “The good news is that the compound has a closed greenhouse, so no dust will hit the vegetables. And they probably knew to move the chickens and rabbits they breed for food indoors,” Brandon says. That seems to settle the argument. “I’m telling you; these people are no joke.”

  “Yes, yes. We know. They’re Apocalypse Preppers. Thank you, Education Channel, for spreading that plague,” Michael says.

  “I thought you didn’t watch TV?” Brandon asks.

  “I don’t, but I know about the lunatics on that show,” Michael answers.

  “You’re a lunatic for only eating vegetables!” Brandon argues. Amy chuckles.

  “Looks like they’re all heading back into the woods,” Marcus says. The sky is clearing out over the meadow, giving them a chance to cross the bridge safely and move on.

  CHAPTER 45

  They continue along the dirt road for a while. Flanked by wooded areas on either side, they feel safe, and Wolf assures everyone that they’re heading in the right direction. A heavy breeze picks up. It blows directly into their faces and blusters through the woods beside them, making an otherwise silent walk hiss with the white noise of leaves in the wind.

  “Do you think they sleep?” Brandon asks.

  “What, the zombies?” Michael asks. “Like when they got up on the road in the snow?”

  “Yeah. When I found my parents, I could swear they were dead, and not undead. They weren’t moving or breathing, and they had no pulse. I even dragged their bodies away from my bomb shelter. Then they got up while I was doing something else. It’s like they were asleep,” Brandon explains.

  “Maybe. When I took the police car I might have woken one up,” Sheryl adds. “A cop was dead at the wheel. Or I thought he was dead. I moved him out of the door, and after I got his keys from his pocket he got up. He had to have already changed, otherwise I would’ve seen or heard it happen, like with Rocky.”

  “You’d know it if he changed right there on the spot,” Marcus says.

  “It’s not a pretty sight,” Dr. Vogel adds.

  “So then maybe they do sleep, or go dormant or something,” Brandon concludes.

  “Their pulse is very fast when they’re active, so maybe when they’re inactive it slows down, like when an animal hibernates,” Dr. Vogel suggests. “That could be why you didn’t feel any pulse when you checked your parents, but I felt a fast one in Wolf’s trap. Either that or you somehow found them just when they died, before they changed, and then they changed after you dragged them away.”

  “I think they were there all night. They must’ve been asleep,” Brandon answers.

  “The amount of snow covering the ones on the road yesterday suggests they were laying there for at least a few hours. So maybe they do go to sleep when they’re not feeding. It’s like some kind of short term hibernation,” Dr. Vogel muses.

  The dirt road begins to twist and meander, and the grey sky above grows darker as night approaches once again.

  “Come on. We should try to find some cover in the woods. This wind is bone chilling,” Wolf waves them off the road and back into the trees.

  After a few minutes of searching for a good spot to shield themselves from the elements, Sheryl spots an old structure. “Is that a barn?” she asks.

  “Looks like it,” Dr. Vogel says. “Has to be abandoned.”

  “That’ll do,” Wolf says. “Just need a place we can dry off and warm up.”

  “What if it’s somebody’s property?” Marcus asks.

  “Come on, we’re in the middle of nowhere, and this place is falling apart,” Michael says.

  The spongy rotting wood of the wide-planked shack splinters in all directions like thorns on a rose. The roof is caved in on one side, but on the other side it sags down to form a slope. Underneath it’s dry, and just big enough to fit everyone.

  “A little tight, but it’s better than being soaking wet,” Wolf says. “I’ll work on getting a fire going. Here. Eat.” Wolf unzips his pack and tosses out a few travel sized bags of peanuts and trail mix.

  “Is this organic?” Michael aks.

  “I don’t know, mate.” Wolf chuckles a bit. “Read the label.”

  “I don’t think it is,” Michael holds the package at odd angles to try to read it in the fading light.

  “If you want organic, I’m sure we can dig up some frosty worms around here,” Wolf jokes.

  “What about you?” Amy asks.

  “I’ve got some squirrel,” Wolf says as he whips out a hunk of charred meat from his pocket. “Organic.”

  Michael screws up his face. “Sick!”

  “Had some rabbit too, but I already ate that.”

  “Can I try a bite?” Brandon asks.

  “You ain’t gonna like it kid, but be my guest.” Wolf pulls off a small shred of meat for Brandon.

  Brandon yanks at the piece and gnaws at it, chewing vigorously before swallowing it down. The others look on, waiting for his response. “Needs salt. Tastes like chicken.”

  #

  Sheryl finds herself lying beside Marcus. He reads through his Bible by the campfire light. She glances at the musculature of his body as the flickering flames create harsh shadows across his dark skin. Everything but his pants drape over some fallen rafters on the other side of the fire, drying out from the day’s wet walk. Her eyes fixate on the goose pimples that spread across his skin with each icy gust that whistles through the fraying wood walls surrounding them. Sheryl hasn’t let herself be attracted to someone since the boys were born, and after finding out about her husband’s affair, she lost all sense of what intimacy was.

  “What part are you reading?” She pulls her eyes off of his biceps to meet his eyes.

  “Exodus,” he says, keeping his eyes glued to the text.

  “How fitting.”

  “You read the Bible?” Marcus asks her.

  “Not for a long time. My father used to read parts for me when I was a kid. It was always a few Bible passages just before the bedtime story.” She smiles thinking of it.

  Marcus closes his Bible around a finger and looks over at her. She’s undressed down to her bra and underwear, but covered by a dry blanket that Wolf had rolled up in his bag.

  “May I?” Sheryl reaches for the Bible. As she stretches her arm out the blanket slips down off her shoulder, revealing her breasts to Marcus as they sit firmly in her wet bra. Her stiffened nipples cast shadows in the glimmer of the campfire. Marcus averts his eyes, and Sheryl has to suppress her smile. As he hands her the Bible he notices the ring on her finger. Sheryl quickly retracts her hand and removes it before taking the Bible.

  “He was no good,” she says plainly as she flings the ring into the fire. “And now he’s dead.” Sheryl leafs through the Bible until she finds the page she’s looking for. She reads. “‘Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil, and cling to what is good.’ That was always one of my favorites. Remembering it got me through tough times.”

  “How so?” Marcus asks.

  “Well instead of dwelling on what a bastard my husband was, I just focused on what I loved between us; our children.” Tears start to glisten in her eyes.

  “They also say you should hate the sin but still try to love the sinner. We all fuck up in some way or another. So don’t hate your husband when you think back. Instead, hate what he did and try to forgive.”
/>   “That’s difficult. But it’s good advice.” She wipes the tears from her eyes before they fall.

  “No one said forgiveness is easy. I just hope the people I harmed can think the same way about me. I doubt it though. Some things, people can’t forgive. Or they won’t.”

  “Well you’ve done nothing but good around me,” Sheryl says with a smile. “Whatever your past was, all that matters is what you do from here on.” She thinks of what Willy told her; the thing he said that reminded her of what her father used to say. “Anyone can be a good person in good times. But doing the right thing even in bad times... that shows character.”

  Marcus smiles. “Amen, girl.”

  Sheryl leans in close to Marcus. “Thanks for saving my life,” she whispers just before kissing him on his mouth. He puts his arms around her and she falls into his embrace.

  #

  Amy hangs some of her clothes to dry and zips herself into a sleeping bag along the shack wall. The movements of the others sitting by the fire flicker into a macabre shadow dance on the ragged planks beside her. She watches it, letting her eyes blur the shapes into memories. Shadow puppets with dad in her childhood bedroom. Her nightlight always shined up from the bedside table toward the closet door. She was afraid of what lingered in there. Who knows what kind of monsters lurked behind, waiting to steal her away in the night. Her dad folded and twisted his hands to make hopping bunnies, barking guard dogs, and flying birds to watch over her on the closet door. But now the rabbits are being trapped and roasted into campfire jerky, the guard dogs are eating the dead and turning into rabid beasts, and the birds are dropping from a poisonous sky. There are real monsters behind the wall now.

  Michael approaches and sits beside her, rubbing her back through the thick padding of her vinyl sleeping bag. She pretends to sleep, but he saw her eyes open just a second ago.

  “I don’t think we should be distant from each other now, not with all that’s happening,” he pleads with her. “Babe, I know you’re awake.”

  “I need you to stop being so serious and combative with everyone. Enough with the politics and religion bull crap,” Amy says. “We need to get along with these people despite all that.”

  “I know, I know. You’re right. I just... you know I hear these things and I can’t just let them be. I feel like I have to respond otherwise I get pissed off.”

  Amy faces him and props herself up onto her elbow. “Well it pisses me off! I’ve generally kept my mouth shut in the past about this, but things are different now. This is why my friends are all weird around you, and why they have to walk on egg shells and bite their tongue during normal conversation. If a zombie plague isn’t reason enough for you to try to play nice with people, then I don’t know what it would take.”

  Michael hangs his head. “I’m sorry. The last thing I want is for me to be driving us apart. Will you forgive me?” Amy nods her head yes after a moment, and they hug. “Is there room for me in that sleeping bag?” he asks.

  “No. But you can snuggle up next to me if you want.”

  Michael lays down a blanket and folds it over himself on the floor beside Amy, where they doze off from the long, uncomfortable day of hiking.

  #

  “So why didn’t it change me?” Wolf asks Dr. Vogel.

  “I really don’t know. Without the benefit of a true lab, the only thing I could come up with is because of your physical fitness.”

  “So if that’s the case, then there could be others like me, unaffected by the dust?”

  “Yeah, there could be.”

  “What about all the scientists we saw in suits collecting samples?” Brandon asks. “The military is sending them over to study this.”

  “They may not know there are people who are immune. That’s why I want Wolf to come with me. It may just be a physical fitness thing, but it could be a genetic thing, or even something else.”

  “Like what?” Wolf asks.

  “When we first met, you said you picked up all sorts of exotic bugs in your travels. I assume parasitic, or one of those conditions that leaves a trace behind for the rest of your life. Could be that something in your body is preventing this parasite from changing you. Maybe one of our parasites is fighting this space dust parasite. I call it a parasite but I really don’t know what it is. I just know it’s not like any other form of life we’ve seen on Earth.”

  “What makes you think it’s even alive?” Wolf asks.

  “It multiplied in a Petrie dish, but you’re right. I don’t know for sure. It could be anything, and maybe it’s not even alive.”

  “So you think something in my body, or DNA, is preventing it from finishing me off?” Wolf asks.

  “Maybe, but not just that. You’re apparently done fighting it off. Your symptoms are gone. You essentially killed it. That makes you scientific gold if we ever want to try to work on a cure.”

  Brandon’s eyes gleam as he smiles up at his hero. “Badass.”

  “Will you reconsider coming with me to the CDC, now that you understand how vital you are?”

  Wolf strokes his hand through his silvery blonde hair. “I’ll think on it, mate. After we get everyone to safety, we’ll talk.”

  The conversation lulls for a moment, and everything is quiet except for the hissing and popping of the fire. Brandon sings a somber tune as everyone fades to sleep. “Silent night, zombie night. All are gone, none alive. Round the meteor living will die. All infected will shamble and rise. Sick with hellish disease, sick with hellish disease.”

  CHAPTER 46

  “Horses! They’re eating too, so I guess the whole ‘dust on food’ thing doesn’t create a problem,” Brandon says as everyone approaches them. Four horses huddle up near a gate on a split rail fence. A few troughs of grains hang off the aging posts.

  “We don’t know if the debris made it out here yet,” Michael says.

  “Yeah,” Dr. Vogel affirms. “Winds are shifting though, now that the storm passed. Things could get very different out here if any of that crap is still suspended in the air. My guess is the snow knocked a lot of it down.”

  “There’s no way I’m taking this mask off, that’s for sure,” Brandon says.

  “Maybe we should take the horses,” Michael suggests.

  “That’s stealing,” Marcus says.

  “Says the convict,” Michael retorts. Amy jabs an elbow into his side. “Sorry Marcus.”

  “What do we need horses for? We’re almost there anyway, right?” Amy asks.

  “Not too much further up this road,” Wolf says.

  Michael unlatches the gate. The horses walk out and stand along the roadside. “I thought we’d use them to pay our way into the compound. You think they’re going to just let a bunch of strangers in?”

  “I told you, it’s going to be fine,” Brandon urges. “Everyone in her family is allowed to bring whoever they want. I was invited, and she told me I could bring whoever I wanted, and it would be okay with her father.”

  “How well do you know her? Do her folks like you enough to let that happen?” Dr. Vogel asks.

  “Pssht...” Brandon blows off the questions. “Who knows... I never met them.”

  “What?!” They all say it in unison.

  “How the hell do you know these people then?” Michael asks.

  “From the web. A message board. Dude we talk every night; it’s not like she’s a stranger,” Brandon argues.

  “Yes, it’s exactly like she’s a stranger.” Michael scoffs at him. “This is fucking perfect. We’re following a goddamn kid around...”

  Just then there’s some yelling from across the horse pasture. Two men carrying rifles run out towards them from a barn at the far end of the field. Gunshots shatter the cold morning air.

  “Shit!” Dr. Vogel exclaims. “Now we have to take the horses.”

  “Go, go, go!” Michael yells.

  Wolf quickly mounts a horse and starts up the road. Dr. Vogel and Michael fire back in the direction of the two gunmen.
One of them drops, and the other runs to his aid. Dr. Vogel gets on the second horse. Sheryl and Brandon share another. Amy and Michael take the last one, and Marcus follows behind at a sprint.

  Amy sloppily hangs onto the horse’s neck as it trots, and Michael hangs onto her with his hands around her waist. The ride is painful, bumpy and uncomfortable. Without a saddle, they’re slipping all over the place, and without reins, Amy has to wrap her hands around the horse’s hair.

  Marcus can barely make out the distant, fading shape of Wolf’s and Dr. Vogel’s horses way up ahead, just reaching the crest of a hill in the road. Sheryl and Brandon are about halfway there, and Michael and Amy are moving slowly, within speaking range. Four horses. It’s like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, bringing plague and death. Maybe this is all wrong. Maybe my place was back on the other side, finishing out the rest of my punishment in hell. I was given freedom... Freedom from jail, from the consequences of my past... Freedom from disease, and freedom from the quarantine lockdown... and I still failed. I broke my vow. I brought harm to the living, to the innocent. It may not’ve been me who fired those shots, but it was the people I was with. If we hadn’t stolen those horses... His mind races through all the scenarios that could have been as he runs. He wears down and begins to tire as he struggles just to stay at half pace. The mask is restricting his breathing, and fogging up like crazy. Fuck it. I’m taking off this mask. If God wants me dead then so be it. He peels off the mask, bathing his face in the fresh, icy air. It feels like freedom.

  “Are they following us?” asks Amy.

  Michael frees up one hand and aims his gun backward nervously.

  “Easy man!” Marcus yells as he trails behind on foot.

  “No. Just Marcus,” Michael says. “The crazy bastard took off his mask.” Michael puts his hand back around Amy’s waist and feels wetness. He sees the red on his hands. She’s bleeding. “Oh fuck! Were you shot? Are you okay?”

  There’s no answer. Amy’s grip on the horse loosens. The horse slows to a walk as she slips off its back. Michael hops down and catches her in his arms. He lays her on the ground.