The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 4): The Dead

by Deville, Sean

  The room they were in suddenly shook, as if an earthquake had been triggered. No cracks appeared in the walls, and the motion was brief, but Reece was able to guess the truth of what had just happened.

  “Earthquake?” asked Jessy.

  “I don’t think so,” answered Reece. She hugged Lizzy to her tighter, the child welcoming the attention. “I think that might have been our friend Gabriel again.”

  “I’m still amazed we are out of there,” Jessy said. As a former White House Chief of Staff, she couldn’t believe the way she had been treated. Jessy had thought her position gave her a degree of power, a privilege over the bureaucracy of Washington that most people didn’t possess. How wrong she had been. They had deemed her property and had locked her in a rudimentary cell in contravention of nearly a dozen laws. They were out now, but Jessy wasn’t under any illusion that their situation was any better.

  The door to their room opened, and a man stepped through. Jessy had met him before, but she had never seen his face. The door closed behind him slowly, his hand lingering on the handle. Reece noticed that there were armed guards outside and wondered if that was to keep them safe, or to keep them contained?

  “Ladies,” John said. There was nowhere for him to sit, so he remained standing, his arms imposingly folded across his chest.

  “I know you,” Jessy said with hostility. John merely nodded. “This is one of the men who abducted me from the White House bunker,” she informed Reece.

  “I think rescue would be a better word,” John countered.

  “No, I’ll stick with abducted if it’s alright with you.” John simply shrugged.

  “Your gratitude overwhelms me.”

  “You want me to be grateful?” Jessy said, the anger growing in her voice. “You want me to be grateful for putting me down there with that maniac Schmidt?”

  “You’re alive, aren’t you?” was all John had in way of a response. The way Jessy glowered at him told John his reasoning wasn’t accepted.

  “What happens to us now?” Reece asked.

  “We haven’t determined that yet. Much of the research team who were working on you are reportedly dead. People higher up the food chain than me are deciding what to do with you.”

  “Where is Doctor Lee?”

  “She is being debriefed.”

  “I want to see her,” Reece demanded.

  “Sorry, but I don’t really care what you want. We will be moving you to another part of the base shortly so you can get some rest.”

  “Sleep? You really don’t understand what is going on here, do you?”

  “If you mean all the bullshit about the mysterious dreams you all share, I don’t have time for that.”

  “Bullshit?” an incredulous Reece almost shouted. She kept her voice under control so as not to upset Lizzy. “Talk to Jee, she will tell you.”

  “I did, and I didn’t believe a word of it. Not my decision though at the end of the day.” He wasn’t cut out to play nursemaid.

  “Can we at least get something to eat?” Jessy pleaded.

  “That I can arrange for you,” John answered with a strained smile. “In the meantime, please don’t cause us any trouble.” Reece wasn’t the only one to notice the threat that those words implied.

  “Exactly what mayhem do you expect us to create with a ten-year-old child in tow?” Reece asked sarcastically.

  “I’m nearly eleven,” Lizzy insisted suddenly, breaking the hostility in the room like a knife. John physically relaxed, a grin spreading to his face.

  “I get the point you are trying to make,” conceded John. “What happened down there?”

  “Howell saved us. The one called Gabriel broke loose and went on a killing spree.” John had watched the video feeds from the research level. They did seem to show exactly that. “Gabriel would have likely killed us but for him.”

  “I don’t like Gabriel,” Lizzy added. “He has mean eyes.”

  “You don’t need to worry about Gabriel now,” John said.

  “Is he dead?” To hear a child ask that question surprised John.

  “Yes, yes he is.”

  “And Schmidt?” Jessy enquired.

  “The Professor didn’t make it either.” John watched their reaction and wasn’t surprised when nobody showed even an ounce of disappointment. Lizzy held her palm up to Reece in an attempted high five. All she got was a disapproving shake of the head.

  “Eat and then try and get some rest. When I know what is planned for you, I’ll let you know.”

  “Planned for us?” Jessy repeated. The words sounded foreboding. John simply shrugged and left the room. What was that old saying? Out of the frying pan…

  ***

  Walking away from where the immune were being detained, John was saluted by a soldier who he didn’t recognise. He returned the salute, his mind wandering onto the fact that there were so many new faces around here. Soldiers were being moved onto the base constantly, the border defences needing bodies to build it and competent souls to defend it.

  This particular soldier was Private First Class Rodney Selleck. Rodney was an unassuming soul, well-liked and difficult to anger. People trusted him, which made the fact he was contaminated with Lazarus somewhat ironic. He had been here just over two days, and was finally entering the latter, noticeable stages of the viral infection. As he hadn’t been infected by contact with the undead, the virus moved slowly through him, allowing him to spread it to everyone he met, his very breath a breeding ground for the contagion. Within the supposed safe confines of Fort Detrick, it was not considered necessary to wear full protective gear, which was a mistake that was already bubbling up to the surface.

  Rodney had to admit that in the last few hours he hadn’t been feeling great, his discomfort now reaching new heights. There was a headache swirling in his head, and as he walked past the officer he had just saluted, he felt a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea roll over him. It came in a rush, bringing uncomfortable heat and a blackness that almost overpowered his sight. The wall saved him as his motion faltered, the sweaty hand there propping him up. Deep breaths brought reality back, but he knew there was definitely something wrong with him. With the way his stomach was churning, perhaps it was something he had eaten. He was reassured it couldn’t be Lazarus, because the doctors had told him his blood test was clear.

  The restroom sign drew him like a beacon, the toilets mercifully empty. Going to one of the sinks, Rodney poured out the cold water and splashed it on his face, the hands shaking, a sudden chill taking a grip of his skin. Was he really that ill?

  The face that looked back at him was gaunt even with the muscles he had spent years developing. Another wave hit him, and he gripped onto the unit he leant against, blacking out for just an instant. His forehead found itself resting against the mirror, a wet, greasy print left there when he finally pushed back to look at himself again. That print teamed with Lazarus. Rodney couldn’t remember feeling this bad since that time as a kid when he had contracted pneumonia and almost died. He felt like death was sat casually on his shoulders, and he gazed at his reflection, amazed at the suddenness with which the symptoms had descended upon him.

  He almost missed it. There on the back of his hand was the start of the tell-tale tendrils that showed he was infected. They had been spreading down his arm for nearly an hour now, unnoticed, the sleeve of his uniform ample camouflage.

  “What the fuck?”

  It couldn’t be Lazarus, he told himself. Rodney had passed the viral screening test, not understanding that there was an inherent weakness with such things. They were never going to be one hundred per cent effective in detecting something like Lazarus, and the scientists’ worst case scenario had finally occurred. And here he was, clearly infected, having walked around the base interacting with dozens of people. They had then interacted with dozens more, a vicious cycle that would only end with people’s deaths.

  Lazarus was blossoming in the very place designed to cure it.

&nbs
p; Rodney’s stomach did a rapid cartwheel, and he all but flung himself into the toilet stall, the door slamming open as he knelt down before the porcelain throne. He felt the bile rising, but nothing came, just dry heaves that wracked through his body. That was when his body decided that mercy was the best plan, finally allowing himself to slip into unconsciousness. As his mind switched off, Rodney fell, his head and torso slipping down the side of the toilet.

  He would lie there for nearly two hours and thirty minutes before someone came upon him. That person would make the mistake of checking his pulse, a dead hand grabbing the Samaritan only for teeth to follow.

  Because Rodney had been allowed to slip through the base’s defences, twenty-three per cent of the soldiers and staff at Fort Detrick were now contaminated with Lazarus, and that number grew with every interaction and every breath in the air-conditioned buildings. Fort Detrick was already lost, the base commander and the scientists working there just didn’t know it yet. It was also about to have its very own zombie outbreak.

  25.09.18

  Tristan da Cunha Island

  “I think that’s everything,” the Delta Force Captain said as his men carried various assorted boxes past him. Father had allowed them access to the computer database, everything there downloaded and transmitted to Campbell’s superiors. The boxes contained the handwritten documents and journals they had found in the laboratory, as well as five hundred vials of what Father insisted were an effective vaccine against Lazarus. The original plan had been to take the island and wait for reinforcements by sea, but the news out of America meant that getting the vaccine back was now imperative.

  They had captured the airstrip built by Gaia, and the planes that had brought Father and the rest of them could easily be refuelled from the underground tanks that had been installed on the island. The problem was that Father had chosen the site of his base well. In the South Atlantic, it was more than six thousand miles to the United States Mainland. Fortunately, Father and the other members of Gaia had also chosen their mode of transportation with equal clarity. There were four VIP Dreamliners which could make the journey back to Pennsylvania, allowing a landing at Frederick Municipal Airport. From there the vaccine could be transported by armoured transport directly to Fort Detrick. Minus a few dozen vials of course. The airstrip that had been constructed for those planes was one of the tell-tales that had given away the Gaia base’s existence.

  Campbell himself would be flying one of those planes. Like several of the Delta soldiers he had arrived with, he was a competent pilot. With luck, ten hours from now, several refrigerated crates would be unloaded for the scientists battling Lazarus to work on. They had the cure now, they just needed to make use of it. The samples of the vaccine would be split between multiple planes because those vials were now the most important thing on the whole of planet Earth. No one plane and no one pilot could be trusted with that cargo.

  The ships heading this way had already been re-assigned.

  Father and Brother were still tied up to their chairs, Brother having wet himself due to the men guarding him refusing him access to a bathroom. The smell permeated the room, mingling with the aroma of the food that came from the connected kitchen area. Campbell had spent the last ten minutes preparing himself something to eat, and he wasn’t going to let the smell of piss spoil that.

  “This is good,” Campbell informed Father as he took a hefty bite out of the burger. He had offered to cook the Captain and his men something, but the offer had been declined. Juice ran down his chin, and Campbell wiped it away with an un-gloved hand.

  “I’m glad I could accommodate you,” Father said.

  “The only things we need to decide now is what to do about you.” There was a commotion from outside, the source of the noise revealed as two women were dragged into the mess area.

  “You promised,” Father insisted, looking at the tear-struck face of his wife. Someone had hit her, the marks on her cheek were clear to see. At least the children weren’t here to see this, children that had been the prime way Campbell had ensured the acquisition and the safety of the vaccine. He had looked Father in the eyes and told him that all the children found in the facility would be injected with what Father had insisted was the saviour of the human race. By then Campbell reckoned he was able to read Father and Brother well and had not spotted any signs of concern in their eyes or their manner. Very few men could hide such emotions when it came to the welfare of their offspring.

  To reinforce how serious he was, Campbell slapped Father’s wife in front of the bound man, just to show that he himself was capable of what he had threatened.

  “Did I?” Campbell took another bite of his burger, all but finishing it, discarding the last vestiges of it to the floor. “I don’t remember that. Do you remember that?” he jokingly asked the Delta Force Captain. Campbell didn’t get a reply.

  “Oh God,” Brother said. The man was a total wreck now, not what you expected from someone prepared to kill billions of people. “Don’t hurt her, I beg you,” referring to the other woman. Campbell crouched down in front of Brother, tapping him lightly on the cheek.

  “You really are a whiny little shit, aren’t you?”

  “Just don’t hurt them.”

  “I’m offended,” Campbell said, shaking his head. “You think I would hurt your wife?” Brother tried to look away, but Campbell grabbed him by the chin roughly. “Look at me. I asked you a question.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.” Brother sounded pathetic now, any fight that might have been there completely shattered.

  “There is no point to this,” Father insisted. Campbell ignored him. Instead he ushered the soldier holding Brother’s wife to bring her over. She tried to resist, but she was too weak to resist the stronger man. Campbell took her, grabbing hold of the hair firmly, yanking the wife’s head to one side and insisted that Brother watch every second of the abuse.

  “What kind of a man do you think I am?” Campbell demanded with fake indignation. “What, you think I’m capable of taking this gun,” he said, pulling the sidearm from its holster, “and shooting your wife in the head?” Campbell pushed the barrel of the gun into the woman’s temple to her extreme distress.

  “No,” Brother begged. If he had been able, he would have fallen to his knees. “Don’t, please, I’ll do anything.”

  “I would never shoot a woman in the head,” Campbell insisted, pulling the gun away. He watched Brother’s eyes relax a fraction before moving the pistol to the woman’s abdomen. “Far too quick, far too painless. Don’t you agree.” With that, Campbell shot Brother’s wife in the stomach, allowing her body to fall to the floor, writhing with the pain inflicted.

  “Noooo,” Brother roared, suddenly finding the strength to try and pull himself free from his bonds. The rope held.

  “Jesus,” one of the Delta soldiers exclaimed, clearly not in approval of what was being done here. But this was Campbell’s show. The orders were clear. No adults were to be left alive once any vaccine was secured. Every soldier here was aware of those instructions and would not act to stop Campbell.

  “You bastard,” Father said through gritted teeth. Campbell moved round to face him.

  “Bastard, you say? I think that’s a bit rich. But perhaps you’re right.” The gun came up before Father could react, the shot deafening in the bound man’s left ear as Campbell discharged a bullet into the side of Brother’s head. Father was spared the blood splatter, which instead erupted all over the woman dying on the floor. She screamed again, death coming closer as the trauma from her wound intensified.

  “Fuck,” Father muttered.

  “Campbell, you are one sick son of a bitch,” the Captain stated. The Captain’s face was serious, clearly showing the DIA agent that a line had been crossed.

  “No,” Campbell said in disagreement. “Sick would have been to have the children in here while I performed the executions. And ask your men. I know some of them have lost people they loved because
of this lunatic. I doubt you will find many people crying in sympathy for him.”

  “You’re probably right in that regard,” the Captain said. “Doesn’t stop you being a sick fuck.” Campbell actually found that amusing.

  “Just kill us and be done with it,” Father demanded.

  “Good plan,” said Campbell in response. Turning, he shot Father’s wife between the eyes, the soldier holding her having already stepped away. Father didn’t say anything, he just closed his eyes and wept at his own failure. “Clear your men out, Captain. We are done here.” The Captain followed the order, glad to be able to leave the room that was rapidly turning into a charnel house. Campbell watched everyone leave. It was just Father and himself now.

  “Finish it,” Father said.

  “I promised to spare your children, and I’m going to keep that promise. I won’t hurt a hair on their heads,” Campbell stated. Father had two daughters, both in their early teens, and much of what he had done had been for their future. That was what he had told himself at least. In truth, it had all been his own ego running away with him.

  Walking over to Father’s dead wife, Campbell dragged her over to where Father was tied up and propped her up against his legs. Her lifeless head lolled back into his lap, blood seeping into his trousers.

  “What are you doing?” Father demanded hysterically, half blinded by his own tears. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. In response, Campbell just patted Father on the head and began to untie Brother’s bonds. With the rope he acquired, he secured the dead body of the wife so that it wouldn’t fall away.

  “Your wife meant so much to you, I can see that now. A part of me regrets having to kill her like that, so it’s only right that you should be together.”