Lazarus: Enter the Deadspace

by Daniel Willcocks

  The annual day trip to the Colonial Williamsburg Visitor Center was one of the big calendar events for Jamestown High School. Kurt couldn’t really see why. As far as he was concerned, none of the students on the bus ever focused in class or paid any attention as Mr Richmond tried to teach them all about the American Revolution. About the fight for freedom from British rule over the colonies. It seemed that guns and war would be a good topic to teach to the more boisterous kids in the class (Frankie especially), but that was never the case. Kurt, however, found it all fascinating and would read on through the pages of textbooks as the class were told for the twelfth time that it was only their time they were wasting.

  But then, who knows? With thirty students away from their classes, watching two teams of soldiers shoot at each other, maybe that would be enough to grab their attention? What was it Amy had told him only a week ago?

  “Anything can happen on school trips, Kurt. Sometimes teachers stop treating you like kids, sometimes people you don’t like become really cool people. It’s almost like people see you as the adult you’re going to become.”

  Kurt smiled at the memory and pulled his phone from his trouser pocket. He checked his messages, hoping to find a message from Amy, but was unsurprised to find his inbox empty still.

  He sighed and leaned his head against the window.

  He’d heard nothing from his sister in three days now, which wasn’t unusual in itself. There had been times since their separation that the internet had gone down, or she’d been taken away by her own adopted parents for a weekend. But, usually, Amy would at least have told him that she wouldn’t be free to speak for a couple of days. A text, an email, something. The last time they’d spoken had been a Skype conversation that previous Sunday evening, and it was then that they agreed, as they so often did as they waved goodbye over an internet connection that made the wave look like a stop-motion feature, to talk again the next evening. Kurt had sat at his computer, logged on at exactly two minutes to eight, and waited a good half an hour with no response. He had left a message saying that he’d try again tomorrow, and that had yielded the same results. As did the following day.

  He’d told himself that she was just busy. That life up in Ohio must just be a lot more fast-paced than in the sleepy state of Virginia. She’d call eventually.

  She always called.

  As the world outside the bus passed by, revealing a large lake that caught the sun and sent tiny stars glittering on its surface, he snapped a picture on his phone and attached it to an email. He scrolled until he found Amy’s name and was about to hit send when Justin, who had been sleeping next to Kurt for most of the journey, said, “Amy, eh? She sounds hot.”

  “Dude, she’s my sister,” Kurt replied, a little too salty, watching as Justin wiped the drool from his mouth and adjusted in his seat. He pulled off his hat revealing a crown of straw coloured hair.

  “Older or younger?”

  “Older.”

  “How comes I ain’t seen her around?” Justin said, looking out of the window to get his bearings.

  Kurt didn’t want to answer that question. There were few in his life that knew the real reason. But nor did he want to be rude, so he settled with, “It’s complicated.”

  Justin opened his mouth and looked like he was ready with another question when Mr Richmond stood and called back to the bus. “We’ll be there in just under five minutes, guys. Get your stuff together. Remember, anything left on the bus is your own responsibility – and remember to pick up your trash”.

  Kurt hit send on his phone, then put his book in his bag and sat up straight, joining the rest of the class as they all focused their attention out the window. He craned his neck and looked to the front of the bus, trying to catch another glimpse of Emily, but there were too many excited heads in the way. He did, however, see Frankie’s friend, Ewan McGresky, a kid who could certainly benefit from a couple of weeks in fat camp, fish out a plastic musket he’d, “bought especially for the occasion”, from beneath his seat and hold it high.

  “Woo! Who’s ready?! This is gunna be brutal!” he roared to the delight of the High School passengers as he trained the sights at each kid in turn, pretending to fire.

  They laughed and clapped as Frankie joined in. (A couple even pretending to die as the imaginary bullet hit them). He pumped his fist to the ceiling and shouted, “Let’s go see some death!”

  3

  A few miles away from the Visitor Center, a lone man sat in the immaculate leather of his Dodge Impala. He craned forward, chin millimetres from the steering wheel, sweat dripping off the end of his nose.

  “C’mon. C’mon. C’mon…” he grumbled, slapping a hand against the dashboard.

  It wasn’t the car’s fault for Lucas’ desperation. The car had been a trusted friend over the years and still had the capacity to break 100mph in just a few seconds. Lucas loved his Dodge. Or, ‘Donny’ as he’d come to call it. He loved the nice bits, but he loved the not-so-nice bits even more. He waxed the black body every week like clockwork, gave the engine some TLC routinely throughout the year, and kept the inside smelling like daisies. But as the car squealed around the corner at close to 40mph and the engine roared and popped he couldn’t help but grit his teeth and wish the damn thing could go faster.

  “You best be right about this, Freddy-boy.”

  Nobody replied. He didn’t expect them to. He hadn’t spoken to Fred in years. But he had heard him. A whisper that came to him this morning in his dreams that told him to get to the Colonial Williamsburg Visitor Center before 3pm.

  Before the event.

  How Freddy knew this information, he had no idea. How Lucas knew that what he had heard was far more than just a dream, well, he wasn’t sure. But in a dream so vivid that it could have almost been a moment spent in the Deadspace itself, was it worth the chance to ignore the call? The Revivers had a pact. And that pact was to be honoured.

  He eyed the dashboard as the rev counter needle spiked, before looking back to the road, focusing as leaves whipped behind him and trees flew past.

  C’mon, Donny, he murmured, stroking the dashboard, we can do this…

  The winding road straightened. A few moments later Lucas saw two sentry boxes on either side of the tree-lined road. A long white barrier with red and white stripes connected the two. Squinting, he could just make out the shape of a uniformed guard stepping out of the booth in anticipation of the car speeding towards them. A slim woman with a tidy ponytail under her cap, and a high-vis security jacket on.

  She nodded her hat his way. A second later, seeming to realise as the car got closer that it was travelling at dangerous speeds, she held up her hand to indicate a stop. Even from a distance, Lucas could see her eyes growing wide, her hand dipping to her chest as she muttered some words into her radio.

  Sorry, dear. Clock is ticking.

  Lucas furrowed his brow, gripped the steering wheel, and maintained his speed. There was no way that he was going to stop now. He could try to explain why the engine was boiling hot and his speed was twice over the limit, but who in their right mind would believe him? No one would. And should he stop to waste time for the sake of one person when his actions could serve the greater good? No. They’d thank him later. After the threat was extinguished he could write a formal apology to Williamsburg Council, and send some cash for the pretty little barrier guard on patrol.

  Might even be able to get her number by the end of the day. Wouldn’t that be a meet-cute for the books—

  Suddenly the woman stepped into the road, one hand raised, palm out. A terrified expression on her face. Her eyes met Lucas’ and he swallowed hard, praying that she would have the sense to move. His foot muscles twitched on the gas but held. The woman had only a fraction of a second to spare before jumping out of the way as Donny smashed through the barrier leaving nothing more than a cloud of splinters and shards.

  “Sorry!” Lucas called back, head hanging out the window. She’d understand soon. Dear God,
he hoped she’d understand.

  4

  Despite Mr Richmond’s protestations, the minute the bus parked, the class pushed and shoved and wedged their way to the front, each kid eager to be the first to jump onto the gravelled paths. There were a few sensible kids, of course, who waited until the bus had mostly cleared before attempting to disembark. For Kurt, this also allowed him an extra few seconds to watch Emily’s flowing skirt as she stepped into the afternoon sun. She looked a little lost as she joined the throng gathering around their teacher, and Kurt wondered why Lily, her best friend, hadn’t been able to make the trip.

  “Okay, let me count heads,” Mr Richmond commanded when the bus emptied. He jabbed his finger in the direction of the students. Each time he’d get to fifteen or so, he’d have to clear his throat, shout for everyone to be still once more, then recount just to be sure that a wriggler hadn’t been counted twice.

  It was a fine day, indeed. The heat was blistering and the smell of pollen in the skies and freshly cut grass had Kurt wishing he’d taken his antihistamines. The urge to sneeze was building and he didn’t want to be that kid. The annoying one who kept loosing snot all over the place. The backs of his legs were still numb from the drive and he wanted nothing more than to lift his hands to the sky and stretch it out. Maybe even lie down and take a quick nap.

  He was stood a good few feet apart from the group. It wasn’t that he didn’t have any friends, only that, out of everyone in his class at Jamestown High School, there were only one or two that he felt he could tolerate. Since joining the school just over six months ago, he’d found that most people had already settled into their cliques – the bonds had been made. Of course, he had benefitted from the ‘New Boy Complex’ when he had started – the shiny new toy that all the kids wanted to play with. But the magic had soon worn off when they realised that Kurt was just an ordinary boy. Someone who read too much, kept his private life private, and never really saw anyone outside of class.

  They followed Mr Richmond through The Colonial Williamsburg Visitor Center – a modern apex building that housed a variety of gift shops (mostly bric-a-brac aimed at eager tourists, with occasional snacks). At the centre counter, Mr Richmond waved a wad of papers at the clerk and continued to file on through to the large grass field at the back. It was this field that where it would happen. Where he’d finally get to see a glimpse of what life had been like during the American Revolution. He wondered if the actors playing the Brits would use their silly accent, or if there’d be smoke from the guns and blood capsules as people were shot and died. Perhaps they’d have people dressed as the founding fathers, wigs and all?

  “You coming?” Justin called back to Kurt who had stopped to look at a large oil painting on the wall of a group of men signing a document around a table.

  Kurt turned and headed back out into the sun.

  Stepping onto the reenactment field felt like how he imagined football players felt walking into the stadium for a game. Although this was on a much smaller scale, he couldn’t help but find himself in awe of the scene before him. A palpable buzz simmered, sending prickles of excitement down his shoulders and back. Kurt followed a couple steps down from the Visitor Center and took it all in.

  “This is so exciting,” came a sweet voice over his shoulder. Kurt stiffened, then turned to see Emily on the step behind him, her smiling face staring ahead. A cool breeze was blowing his way and he could smell the sweetness of her perfume. “Do you think they’ll use real guns?”

  Kurt looked at the immaculately kept field where thirty or so grown men on each side were adjusting their uniforms and checking their muskets. He was surprised to see that they did actually look a lot like the gentleman in the history books. The costumes were authentic down to the last detail. There were even a couple of women dressed as old time maidens that greeted people to the field and offered refreshments.

  “I… erm… I’m not sure,” Kurt replied, his heart doubling its beats.

  “Well, I hope not. I’ve heard they’re really noisy.” She took a step down to Kurt’s level. “Lily would’ve loved to see them, though. I’ve promised to take some pictures and send them her way.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Oh, she’s ill. Thinks it’s the flu. She says she’s fine but her dad won’t let her leave the house. He’s strict like that.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, Mr Richmond was once again trying in vain to count his students. His face grew redder as he called for people to keep still, but it was useless. He might as well have been counting bingo balls in a washing machine.

  Emily shuffled her feet but didn’t move to meet the others.

  A moment of inspiration struck. If Lily wasn’t there with Emily, who would she watch the reenactment with?

  Kurt took a deep breath. “Hey, here’s a question. Seeing as Lily isn’t here, I don’t suppose you’d… maybe… sorta… want to—”

  “Please!” she blurted before he had a chance to finish. They both looked at each other sheepishly. “I mean, if that’s what you were asking, to sit together? I don’t think I could stand being left alone around Kaitlin and Jess.”

  “Kurt Alder? Emily Harrison?”

  They looked and saw Mr Richmond looking around for them both. Kurt waved and called, walking down the stairs with Emily beside. He felt himself becoming very aware of the eyes that were turning his way but surprisingly found that he didn’t care.

  “Good,” Mr Richmond said, finally satisfied he had everyone. “There’s some bleachers just over there reserved for us all. Let’s calmly make our way over, and…” But already the class began to peel off and sprint over. He slumped his shoulders. “Why do I even bother?”

  Emily grabbed Kurt’s hand and led him to the seats, finding a gap for two near the front. The rest of the class shuffled around them, pushing and sliding until they figured they had the perfect seat with the perfect view. Kurt noticed Jessica had settled behind Emily and was grinding her teeth on a fresh batch of gum. Their eyes met and Kurt gave his best, ‘I’m warning you,’ look.

  “I feel like everyone’s staring,” Emily blushed, tightening her hand in Kurt’s. “I feel it in the back of my head.”

  “That’s gum,” Kurt replied, smiling.

  Emily gasped. “That’s not funny,” she snorted, then began giggling herself. “You know, I’ve never been to one of these before. Do you think it’ll be scary? Like, people pretending to die? I can’t even stand fireworks when I’m at home. I spend most of the night cuddling my dog.”

  “It’s all acting,” Kurt answered in his most reassuring voice. He heard the quiver from his nerves with every syllable that left his mouth but did his best to act natural. That’s what Amy would’ve told him to do. “Besides, why would your parents want you to come if you’re scared of loud noises?”

  “They think I’m a wimp. Reckon that this will help with that. I suppose it might, and I am excited to see the guns fire. I guess I just might jump a bit is all. What do your parents think? I’ve seen them pull up to school in that big silver car. They must be pretty cool.”

  “Yeah… they’re pretty cool,” Kurt replied, looking away and out at the wall of trees that lined the back of the field. For a moment he thought he saw something out there. Maybe a deer or some other animal grazing just out of reach of the sunlight. But the next second, it was gone.

  For the next few minutes, Kurt sat and listened as Emily talked at him. Not to him. At. It turned out that she was quite the chatterbox, and it was a tic of hers to continue talking when she became nervous. Kurt didn’t mind at all. He was never one to talk about himself much anyway, figuring there wasn’t much he’d be comfortable sharing. A couple of times he managed to sneak a word in, but mostly he enjoyed listening to the sweet sound of her voice as it soaked into him like candy hearts.

  As Emily shuffled closer and locked her hands around Kurt’s arms, he couldn’t help but think Amy was right. You never quite know what’s going to happen on field trips. W
ho’d have guessed that Emily would be sat here with Kurt now, so close to him that he could feel her warmth, see the sparkle in her eyes?

  By the time the bell tower of the Visitor Center chimed three, Kurt felt as though he’d known Emily for months. Everyone else around them was just a blur, and it was just Kurt and Emily on their first date. He hadn’t even noticed that the actors had now lined up on either side of the field and waited patiently for the chimes to finish.

  A man on a horse trotted into the centre of the battlefield. He was dressed in a long overcoat of black, with white ruffles around his collar, an elaborate wig, and a tricorne hat. His belly was a little on the large side, but that gave him an air of authority. Kurt could just make out a small, flesh-coloured nodule on the man’s cheek which he presumed to be a microphone. As the man turned to face those gathered, a trumpet blew.

  “Welcome to Colonial Williamsburg”, the man boomed, the sound coming from hidden speakers all around, “the town where time stands still, and history lives on. We’ve got an amazing performance ahead for you, but first I want to know… are we excited to see the show?” The man theatrically cupped his hand to his ear. There were some answers of ‘yes’, but a look of practised disappointment washed over his face. He rolled his eyes and called even louder. “I said: Are we excited to see the show?!”

  This time the response was much louder. Cries and cheers of ‘Yeah!’ came from all around. Along the painted line that edged the field there were people sat clapping in rows. Families, friends, classes from neighbour schools. A few cupped hands to their mouths and shouted. Dotted here and there were US flags waved by excited kids. It made Kurt think of himself at a gladiator stadium, the lions ready to be released, the monstrous men prepared for war.