Lazarus

by Willcocks, Daniel

Kurt appreciated her use of the word when and not if.

  It was a strange experience, driving south. For some reason, he’d expected the effects of the bomb to be less noticeable. That the further away they went, the more they’d return to some form of normality. That with every small town they passed they’d see more and more early risers on their way to the IHOP for a morning of coffee, pancakes, and tabloid infotainment. Kurt hoped he’d spot a dog walker scooping up faeces into a tiny plastic bag, or a pre-schooler clutching onto their mother’s hand as they crossed the road. Instead, as Kurt stared curiously out of the window, he found life surprisingly empty. There was no one around on foot. No one at all.

  There were, however, a few cars on the road. Most of them soon overtook the patient Powells who stuck to the speed limits. Each time another car sped past, James shook his head and Karen sat back chuckling with another glass of red in her hands that she’d smuggled from home. She yawned as she sipped the wine. Kurt wondered if they’d even slept. He also wondered if this was a temporary way for her to deal with what was happening, or if drinking this much was the norm for retired folk.

  At one point James was forced to yank the steering wheel hard to move out of the way of a speeding hatchback. As it raced past, Kurt saw that inside were three children squashed into the back seat, surrounded by luggage. The driver was a red-faced balding man with a thick moustache. He gave James the finger as they overtook. The wife in the passenger seat mouthed, “I’m sorry,” through the open window.

  “Asshat,” James cursed and left it at that.

  The driver disappeared into the distance and Kurt found his mind wandering involuntarily back to the day before. He couldn’t help it, no matter how hard he tried. The feel of Emily’s lips on his had awakened something that wouldn’t be silenced. He could still smell her, could feel her warmth if he tried hard enough. In the back of the car, he closed his eyes and tried his damnedest to relive it all.

  Then her face melted into his. The cold eyes of the bomber. A scream here. The fog. The noise. Blood against teeth there. Jittering eyes. The open wound in Emily’s side. The tear widening each time the monsters ripped into it. The entrails being yanked free. Pulling… pulling… while she whispered his name…

  Kurt pinched the skin of his arm, doing whatever he could to bring himself back to the present. The throbbing in his head showed no sign of easing. He took a steadying breath and pushed the tears back down.

  Focus, he thought. Focus on what’s important. What’s alive and present.

  Amy…

  Was she okay? It was killing Kurt that he had no firm answer. It wasn’t like her to ignore his calls, or at least not reply to an alert. The last he’d heard was that she was struggling a bit in one of her classes, and a guy she kinda-sorta-liked was actually showing her some attention. But other than that, there was nothing that might suggest why she had gone radio silent.

  The only solace Kurt had, was that Ohio was several hours west of where the bomb went off. The radios reported that the mist had travelled south, which would mean that she was okay. The mist couldn’t have spread that far…

  Right?

  He dipped a hand into his pocket, suddenly realising what he’d forgotten.

  “Everything okay there, honey?” Karen looked through the rearview mirror. “That’s one hell of a frown.”

  “Er, it’s nothing…” Kurt said, removing his mask entirely. Karen glanced quickly at James, but his concentration was on the road.

  “You know, my sister, Beth, has a lovely house. Fully detached, six bedroom, three bathroom. It’s only her and her husband rattling around in there, too. I’m sure they won’t mind at all if you stay with us, Kurt. We can get there and then figure all of this out. The last thing we’d want is for you to be alone with everything that’s going on. So just try to relax. Sleep if you need to. We’ll wake you up when we’re there.”

  Kurt considered this but stayed silent. Karen didn’t push any further.

  Could he sit and play happy families in a stranger’s house, not knowing whether his sister was safe? Not knowing if she was okay, or if maybe she had heard the news and was looking for him? He felt a hot bubble in his chest as it rose and popped. Was this fair? To be passed off from family to family and dragged away by two people because they know what’s best for him? Sure, he was just a kid, but did that mean that he wasn’t allowed the things that he wanted?

  For God’s sake, he just wanted to talk to his sister.

  “A phone?” Kurt said suddenly.

  “Phone?” Karen said.

  “We have to turn around. I’ve left my phone at my house.”

  Karen’s eyes went to James and then to Kurt.

  “We can’t, Kurt. It’ll take us too long. Why don’t you use one of ours?”

  “Erm, honey?” James interjected. “Don’t you think that, with the radio towers down, there won’t be any signal for Kurt to make a call?”

  “Oh… Yes. Erm… We both have zero bars, hun. I know you want to call your dad, but I don’t want you to worry about that, okay? He’ll be fine. He’ll drop us a line as soon as he gets home, I’m sure. You know if you’re—”

  Karen’s words disappeared in a stroke of blinding pain. Kurt was angry. Pissed off that he could be so stupid as to lose the only form of contact to his sister. The pain amplified his rage. He thought of Amy’s face on a computer screen. A small delay as the sound struggled to keep up with the image over a dodgy internet connection. Her bed in the background. The same oversized pink unicorn she’d cuddled as a child on her pillows. The picture of Kurt, Mom, and Dad on the desk—

  Aarrgh. Kurt clutched his head in both hands, wondering why adults drank if this was always the result. That sensation of being played like a banjo, almost as though he were being torn apart from the inside, before…

  A sudden gushing of wind struck his cool skin. The world stopped, though his heart pounded like drums in his chest.

  He slowly opened one eye and found himself back in the dead world. He was still in the car, but it was motionless. The colour of the day outside had drained almost completely. The shadows thick and wet. James’ empty face staring just a short distance ahead to where a queue of cars was due to meet them.

  He swallowed deeply, massaged his head as the pounding faded, and the hot string cooled. The roaring of the engine had died, the radio had silenced, even the cry of the coastal gulls had vanished.

  But… how…?

  “Mr and Mrs Powell?” No avail.

  He unclipped his seatbelt and leant forward between the two front seats. On his left was James, eyes on the road, right hand on the steering wheel, left hand on his lap. And Karen on his right, half-turning around with her mouth caught open. She was mid-sentence before it all changed, before Kurt had found himself back in the ink-land.

  Their skin was pale and blueing like they’d been dead and put on ice. Cadavers fixed into position. Kurt leant back and looked out of the window. He could see the long stretch of road behind and in front, both leading into nothing. He popped open the door and stepped outside. The silent wind blew against him and he shuddered.

  “Hello?” he said. “Anybody out here?”

  ‘Here… here… here…’

  Across the road and off to the side was a small diner. It didn’t look like much. A small mom-and-pop burger joint at some point. The windows were missing. The tables inside were empty, stacked up in dusty piles, bold signs of food offers and free parking lined the outside, sprayed in multicoloured graffiti.

  Kurt couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than go inside.

  His steps were difficult as if the tarmac was melting around his feet. He looked around, half expecting to see the glitching ferals from before. But he was alone, that much was clear. He pushed on, feeling the wind kick up, the old smokey scent of the bomb back in his nostrils. And a noise. A crying. Coming from the diner. Somebody was inside.

  He reached the diner door and peered in through the circular
window. Inside it was black and nothing else.

  “Who’s in there?” he said. “Are you hurt?”

  Kurt placed his hand on the door. Definitely someone on the other side. Tears and sobs that he thought he recognised. But there was no way of knowing without entering the building. The inside of the diner was blacker than a void.

  Kurt listened a couple moments longer and looked back to the car where James and Karen sat patiently waiting in their stasis.

  His palm was sweaty on the handle of the door. For a fleeting second, the angelic face of his mother popped into his head. Quick words, “Don’t talk to strangers, and don’t trespass where you’re not wanted.”

  “Please,” came the whimper on the other side of the door. He steeled himself, turned the handle, and pushed the door open.

  “Kurt!?” the voice screamed through the void, accompanied by a great whoosh of air.

  “Amy? I can’t see! Where are you?”

  “I can’t see you… where are you, Kurt? Where are you?” Almost a whisper again now, before the door closed behind him and he was consumed by darkness.

  It was suffocating. It smothered his eyes. The smell of old smoke all around, now mixed with the sterile smell of a hospital. He span wildly, breaths coming quick and fast before he heard another voice. A different voice. The pain struck again…

  “Kurt? Kurt! I told you he would turn. Kurt!” A different voice now, older, angrier.

  Shuffling in the front seat. A woman. “Wait! No!… James, stop!”

  Kurt took a sharp intake of breath as he felt himself land on solid ground. He sat up sharply, as though waking from a nightmare. He was back in the car. The hum of the tires on the road in his ears. The world in full, glorious, painful colour. James twisted back to face the road, hiding something in his lap. There was a wink of silver as the sunlight glinted off its surface, and Kurt thought he saw the shape of a gun.

  “See,” Karen said slapping James’ arm. “You worried us, honey.”

  Kurt looked out the window and saw the coastal line was considerably closer now. A short downhill drive towards the body of water that connected Jamestown with Surrey via the Scotland Dock.

  “Huh? Where are we?”

  “We’re nearly at the ferry. A quick hop over the water and we’ll be fast on our way to Durham.”

  It took Kurt a second or two to remember what was happening. There was a shallow throb in his head, and his heart was still calming. Sleep, he thought. I’d just fallen asleep. A silly dream in the back of a stranger’s car…

  But it was more than that, and he couldn’t deny it. The ink-land was no dream. The feel of the wind on his skin was real. The fear that gripped hold of his spine was real. And the voice? The one coming from inside the diner was real. But how? How had he fallen into that place? Why did it keep coming to him?

  Where are you, Amy had said through pained tears. I can’t see you.

  I will find you, he thought to himself. I promise. Whatever it takes, I will find you.

  He looked out the window. They were at the top of an incline that lead directly to the ferry. Hundreds and hundreds of cars could be seen, stacked bumper to bumper, gas fumes funnelling into the clouds. Karen cursed. At the opening of the wide, wooden jetty was a line of police cars and about a dozen police officers, their blue and whites flashing. There was no sign of the ferry.

  “Well, this is going to take forever,” James murmured, pulling the handbrake.

  Kurt looked out the window and saw the mist had finally cleared.

  14

  “Get yourselves ready, folks. It’s on its way back.” Sabrina wiped her nose with the back of her hand, placed her cap back on her sweating head, and turned away from the water. “T-minus four minutes.”

  When she awoke that morning, she had not expected the call. Had not expected to be barked at by a senior officer and told to play safety gates to a frightful mob at the Jamestown Ferry. Sure, when the bomb blew in Colonial, and the reports came in thick and fast, the 5–0 were among the first to know. It had been Sabrina who had suggested maybe getting some extra bodies on duty to deal with the panic that would undoubtedly follow the attack. Reports of a mist that made people crazier than a bucket full of hamsters. But after spending five years pursuing high-profile cases, and fighting for respect in a profession that hailed the male, she thought that perhaps it would be the low-down grunts that would get the bitch work.

  Turns out that wasn’t the case, which would go a long way to explaining Sabrina’s foul mood.

  Sabrina scanned the sea of cars and shuffling bodies, a scowl meeting her lip. Nearby she could hear the tinny bass of a budget car blasting out the latest headache the kids were listening to.

  There were some perks to the job, though. Perks that meant that Sabrina’s husband and daughter were able to push to the front of the queue and make the crossing hours before the area could come close to gridlock. That had been a sad moment, waving to Flynn and Courtney as they sailed over to the Scotland Dock on the other side. Flynn had wanted to wait for her there, but Sabrina insisted they go on. To find their way to her mother’s by himself. She’d meet him there when she was finally relieved from duty. Only problem being, she had no idea when that would be.

  “Higgins, you’re on check duty. If they ain’t clean, you know what to do.”

  Higgins nodded, his chubby cheeks wobbling with his head movements. He walked around the small boards of metal that acted as the filter point for cars to pass, then stopped at the driver’s window. “Morning, ma’am. Just need to ask a few routine questions. That okay?” The woman in the car nodded. Higgins continued, “Have you or anyone else in your vehicle ingested any of the chemical cloud, to the best of your knowledge?”

  The woman shook her head from side to side, a look of fear on her face.

  “Have you or anyone else in the vehicle shown any signs of increased physical aggression?”

  Shake.

  “Have you or anyone else in the vehicle come into contact with someone who has ingested the cloud and shown signs of physical aggression?”

  The woman shook her head once more.

  Higgins sighed. “Final check. Can you do this for me please.” With one finger he pulled at his collar and tilted his head.

  The woman copied. She had an open collar shirt which made it easy to see the smooth skin where her neck met her shoulder. Sabrina saw Higgins’ eyes catch a quick shot of the woman’s breasts before she sat up straight again. She rolled her eyes.

  “Good. And you, sir?” Higgins said, addressing the teenaged boy in the passenger seat. When he revealed his neck it was with the same teenage angst Sabrina had experienced recently from Courtney. “Great, move along.”

  The woman breathed a sigh of relief, started the engine, and slowly passed through the gate to the ferry.

  Higgins waved the next lot forward. Two of the cars fought for their spot at the front of the queue, narrowly avoiding swapping paintwork. Sabrina watched as Higgins reeled off the script once more.

  How many more are there going to be? She looked past the pool of cars, each stacked on the steady gradient like theatre seating. At the very back where the edge of the collection of cars gathered she could see the road, cotton thin as it wound and disappeared over the crest of a hill. From the very top, she could still see cars making their way down here.

  She snorted and shook her head.

  “Ma’am, I need you to calm down please.”

  Sabrina heard Higgins use his authoritative voice and take a step back. Exactly what they had learned in training. Be firm. Keep out of arm’s reach.

  Sabrina approached the car. “What seems to be the problem?”

  In the front seat of the car sat a rather angry looking woman. Her hair was frizzy and wild. She wore lenses too big for her face which magnified her eyes to double their size, and the scent of vanilla poured out from a hanging freshener on the rearview. “Your tubsy mate ‘ere is a goddamn perv is what seems to be the problem.
Talking’ bout covering shit up… Now let me through, I was supposed to be at my father’s an hour ago.”

  Sabrina waved Higgins away. As they crossed each other Higgins whispered something to Sabrina.

  “What’s he sayin’? Hey?! Fatty! You got a problem, you say it to my face.”

  “I wouldn’t carry on insulting an officer of the law ma’am. That would most certainly give off the wrong impression,” Sabrina stepped to the open car window, “and the last thing we want is to slow you down. But understand we’ve got a job to do, and that’s a very important job indeed.” She bent down to the window and rested an arm. “Now, I’d like you to do me a favour, and show me your neck.”

  The woman stared at Sabrina for a moment, then fingered the collar of her turtleneck and tugged. When Sabrina’s eyes widened, she quickly covered herself back up.

  “Oh, here we go. You gonna tell me you’re a perv too? Liking a flash of my tits, eh? I knew all female cops were dykes. Give me your badge number… Ooo I can’t wait to tell me father about this. He’s a lawyer.”

  “Ma’am, I’m afraid you’re going to have to step out of the car and come along with our team.” Sabrina tugged at her radio, “Base, we got another one. Hippie female, in her thirties. Bringing her in.”

  The car engine roared. Sabrina looked and saw a steeled determination on the woman’s face as she revved the accelerator. She called out to the other officers who immediately gathered around the car and put their weight on the bumper. In a flash of instinct, Sabrina leant through the window and ripped the keys out the ignition.

  The woman screamed, tears running rivers down her face. “It’s nothing. I’ve got a condition. It’s how they’re supposed to look.” Shoulders sagging. “I’m fine. I’m fine!”

  Three officers came then and extracted the woman from her car. They held her tight from all angles, restraint positions designed to make sure that they weren’t bitten. She wriggled and did her best to escape for a few seconds before realising that it was fruitless to try. She gave a daggered look to Sabrina. “I’ll have you for this.”