The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 4): The Dead

by Deville, Sean

  ***

  For the first time since becoming reborn, The Woman of Skulls felt fear. She was nearly twice the size of the woman who stood defiantly in front of her, with power that she was still having difficulty comprehending, and yet this was an enemy that now filled her with a creeping concern.

  Jessica and Susan circled each other, each wary of making the first move. Jessica had killed the one called Clay, the dog who had been so evil in life, but Susan was a much more formidable foe. The Reborn had been cast out of the desert, any evidence of his presence long since gone. Occasionally Susan’s eyes would drift to the body of Azrael. Amazingly he was still alive, the wound where the limb had been torn miraculously cauterised. It was as if this place was designed to keep them alive despite their suffering.

  “I’m going to gut you and feed you your own entrails,” Susan promised.

  “Then what are you waiting for?” Jessica insisted. She could feel the hesitation in Susan’s heart, could almost taste the doubt oozing from her.

  “Why do you resist?” Susan asked.

  “Because I can.” It was the only answer that made sense to her.

  “You should run,” The Woman of Skulls insisted. “I will let you so we can make a game out of it. How would that be, for me to kill everyone and leave you till the end?”

  “That sounds tempting,” Jessica admitted, and it did. A part of her wanted that chance, to live just a little bit longer despite the purgatory she existed in here. Another part, the strong part, rejected that though. It realised that Susan’s words were driven by doubt. “But I will have to decline.”

  “So be it,” Susan roared, her words like a cyclone as they hit Jessica’s ears. Jessica’s feet stood firm though, her own confidence growing. Could she actually pull this off? As if to mark Jessica’s obvious foolishness, Susan’s huge scythe manifested from the air, rapidly taking shape. The Woman of Skulls held it high, ready to bring it down in one vicious decapitating move. Would she though? Surely that would be too quick a death?

  The scythe descended, the blade wickedly sharp, the air itself seeming to part before it, the tip of the weapon glowing white hot. Jessica had no time to jump out of the way. All she could do was raise her arms above her head and accept the blow and the death it most likely meant. There was no way she would survive it, her torture finally over, the quickness of her demise a true blessing.

  Instead of death, Jessica finally realised the true power she held against this enemy.

  Jessica barely felt any impact, the weapon shattering as if made from the brittlest of clay. Small pieces swirled around her, most of it being turned to a white powder that was caught up by the relentless wind.

  “No!” was all Susan could say. Her attack foiled, Susan backed up, now ultimately wary of a force she could never hope to comprehend.

  “Well I didn’t expect that,” Jessica said. She took a confident step forward, Susan retreating more. Whereas Jessica had been fleeing for an eternity, the tides were about to change in that regard.

  “How can this be?” Susan demanded.

  “Don’t you get it?” Jessica asked sympathetically. “You were created from my blood. Your power here is only given due to my grace. When you think about it, it makes sense that you could never harm me here.”

  “You speak a web of lies,” Susan roared, still backing away.

  “I have no wish to harm you,” Jessica said. Susan was an open book to her, a victim just as much as Jessica was, a woman who had been abused by men and the fates of life. Some people were lucky, handed everything they needed to live great, powerful lives. Others existed in misery, beset on all sides by tragedy and heartache. Could you really hate someone who was born out of loss, no matter how evil they seemed? Jessica didn’t think she could.

  “I will kill you,” Susan hissed. Susan found herself with her heels near the edge of a cliff that plunged down into the valley below. The fall would not harm Susan, but was there any point in trying to run away?

  Susan decided to stand and fight, or at least that was the plan. It didn’t go well for her. Reaching down, she tried to grab hold of Jessica, to crush her between her huge palms. As the hands closed around Jessica’s upper body, Jessica just smiled. No matter how hard Susan thought she squeezed, no damage was inflicted on Jessica. Trying to pick her up, Susan realised that Jessica was too heavy, as if rooted to the ground. The palms of her hands suddenly started to burn, and flinching in pain, Susan let go of her adversary and looked at the damage done. Thick red blisters had already formed, steam rising from the skin that should have been riddled with metallic scales. Incredibly it even looked like her hands had shrunken somewhat.

  “No,” Susan implored. Jessica was looking at her as if daring her to try again.

  “I told you, you can’t hurt me, Susan. But I can hurt you.” This could have been ended already, Jessica’s own humanity the only thing holding her back.

  “You think you are safe?” Susan laughed. “Even now the undead are coming for your sleeping body. You might have the upper hand in here, but out there, you are just another meal for the undead to dine on. Your bones will be their toothpicks, your liver their feasted delight.” There was hope in Susan’s words. If she could hold out long enough, then maybe the undead would do the job for Susan.

  Sometimes you found yourself having to do things you didn’t want to do. Jessica didn’t want to kill Susan, but she knew that if she let Susan live, The Woman of Skulls would continue to threaten and harass the immune here and in the real world. There were too many immune for Jessica to protect on her own, and Jessica felt she had no choice but to end this now, once and for all. With sorrow in her heart, she leapt.

  “Bitch,” Susan screamed. With all her efforts spent on facing Jessica, those that Susan had dragged from the dream world were freed from their captivity. Forced into sleep against the natural order, many of those in the desert below disappeared, leaving their phantom selves to mark their progress. The tide in the battle for the immune had turned.

  26.08.19

  Preston, UK

  When Azrael woke up, it was raining. Lying face up, the liquid filled his open mouth and made it difficult for him to open his remaining eye, the areas where he had been skinned stinging. Above him, the dark thunderclouds lay ominously, depositing the rain across the land. With what was left of his sight, he saw that the rain was black, the soot from the atomic explosions being returned to the earth with the radiation. That would be a death sentence for everything around him, but not him. Azrael knew he was already dead.

  He knew he didn’t have long, but there was still time to do what needed doing. With his remaining arm, he pulled the satellite phone from his belt, fingers finding the buttons. He dialled the only number stored in the phone.

  “Nick,” he said weakly when the call was answered.

  “Azrael, are you…?”

  “Please, I don’t have much time.” His lungs rebelled, blood erupting from his mouth. “I failed Jessica. There’s nothing I could do.”

  “We can’t wake her up,” Nick advised him.

  “I know. She was dragged into the desert as was I. She is stronger than we all thought.” Azrael laughed then, the irony suddenly hitting him. “I never needed to come here to kill Smith. Jessica could have saved us all if only she had known.”

  “I don’t understand.” Nick sounded helpless.

  “Jessica fights The Woman of Skulls even now. She has the power to defeat her. I see it all. I finally understand.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  “Ask Jessica, she will know.”

  “Don’t you give up on me,” Nick insisted.

  “Nick, I’m already dead. You need to know that the undead are coming for you. You need to protect Jessica and her unborn child. Promise me you will do that. Protect the child, it’s the answer to everything.”

  “I promise,” Nick said. What else was there for him to do now? The APC he was in resounded with the clamour of the undead as they hur
led themselves against its metal armour.

  “Thank you, Nick. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for who I was. Tell Jessica, tell her I truly loved her once.” With that, he cut the call and threw the phone off to the side where it disappeared under a bush. Let the rain have it, he wouldn’t need it ever again.

  Lightning broke open the sky, more rain falling now. It seemed blacker, the torrent coming down harder, death descending from the heavens. There was a burning in Azrael’s chest now, a crushing weight as if his chest was being compressed by an iron band. The breathing came hard, every inhale an individual torture. So much abuse had been done to him that his organs were failing. While he could live hours, maybe days without a functioning liver, spleen or pancreas, he couldn’t survive long if the heart gave out. That was what the pain told him now, the myocardial muscle dying.

  What was the point of this agony though? Pain was a warning, telling him something needed fixing, but how did you fix a broken heart? The crushing increased, and Azrael took his last breath. A shroud seemed to descend over his one good eye, the other empty socket already filled with the rainwater. His sight cut out, the last thoughts becoming incoherent and jumbled. At the moment he finally died, he could no longer even remember his name.

  26.08.19

  Leeds, UK

  Andy woke up to find a nervous looking woman standing over him. He recognised her from the cooking tent the other day.

  “You cried out,” Michelle said, “I was afraid.” She watched as Andy sat up, seemingly no worse for wear for his time in the desert. If Michelle had known what the man she was now talking to was capable of, she would have recoiled from him in fear.

  “Where am I?” Andy asked, looking around. The last thing he remembered was walking back from the slaughter he had committed.

  “It’s where they put the sick,” Michelle answered, sitting down on her own bed. Andy suddenly felt a surge of panic, the word sick implying he might have finally contracted Lazarus. But when the Doctor walked in without any kind of protective outfit, Andy knew that wasn’t something he needed to worry about.

  “You’re awake?” the Doctor said to Andy, genuinely surprised. She almost sounded relieved.

  “He just woke up,” Michelle said, trying to be helpful.

  “I thought I told you to stay lying down.” The words the Doctor uttered weren’t harshly delivered, but Michelle knew she was being told off.

  “What happened to me?” Andy demanded impatiently.

  “Fatigue,” the Doctor said. “Or at least that’s what I will be writing in my report.” The Doctor looked behind her, closing the door to the makeshift hospital ward. “Take my advice and go with me on that.”

  “Whatever you say, Doc,” Andy said. He stood up, surprisingly steady on his feet.

  “And where do you think you are going?”

  “I feel fine,” Andy admitted. “I’ve got work to do.”

  “Maybe I was wrong, maybe it’s more than fatigue. Maybe you were just born with rocks in your head.” The Doctor’s words were scolding.

  “I don’t…”

  “You are suffering from fatigue, which requires bed rest. Or do you want the powers that be to think there is something else wrong with you?” Andy sat down, finally realising what he was being told. The Doctor was willing to engage in this subtle ruse for Andy’s benefit.

  “Thank you,” Andy said, not understanding why she was helping him.

  “You were lucky this time, but if it happens again, I won’t be able to protect you. And you’ve no idea why you collapsed like that?” Andy almost answered her. He almost told the doctor about the desert and his own immunity, but the words remained locked away behind his secretive lips. Instead he just shook his head. “Good. Keep it that way if anyone else asks. Don’t tell them about the desert.”

  “How did you know?” Andy asked, surprised that anyone could know his secret. They both seemed unconcerned that Michelle was listening to them.

  “My partner,” the Doctor said, looking at a sleeping figure in one of the other beds. “She suffers the same affliction. Is she safe now?” The prone and sleeping woman was a fellow doctor who had collapsed mid shift minutes before Andy had succumbed.

  “I don’t know,” was all Andy could say. Michelle watched them both, confused about the secret they were sharing, determined to keep whatever it was to herself. Andy had helped her, and she had no intention of betraying him. “But I think the worst of it might be over,” Andy added.

  “I hope so,” said the Doctor, “for everyone’s sake.”

  The Desert

  Susan tried to grab her attacker, but Jessica’s shoulder hit her in the abdomen with such force that it toppled Susan over the edge of the cliff. Jessica went with her, clinging to the spines that adorned Susan’s body. They fell together, Jessica tearing at the protective layer Susan wore like skin. The scales parted under Susan’s breasts, and Jessica thrust her hand through into the body beneath.

  The fall felt endless, Jessica worming her arm through the flesh, searching for what she knew even the heartless had to own. Susan pawed at her, the hands no more powerful than wet flannels against Jessica. Together they toppled, Susan on top, then Jessica, the ground below rushing towards them.

  Then she found it, the beating heart, and despite her own disgust, Jessica thrust in a further few inches, ribs rubbing against her arm. Susan’s cries of distress were all around her, the power seeping from the body of The Woman of Skulls. Powerful fingers worked around the organ, which should have been too big for Jessica to grasp, but even now Susan seemed to shrink, her body diminishing. With all the energy she had, Jessica squeezed, the heart hot and wet.

  It felt like she was flying. Jessica squeezed harder, twisting her wrist now, ashamed of the torment she was inflicting. But this was a quick death, much quicker than any Susan had inflicted on the innocent. With a final wrench, Jessica ripped the beating heart out of Susan’s chest. Beneath her, the form of Susan vanished, leaving Jessica to fall alone, the organ in her hand turning to ash.

  Jessica looked down, the ground surging towards her, the fall likely to end her. But she was spared that, the impact with the sharp and rocky earth below never happening. When she awoke to the chaos of the armoured personnel carrier, she saw nothing but relieved faces. Jessica had beaten The Woman of Skulls. As horrendous as the Desert of the Damned was, it was now safe for those immune to Lazarus.

  Tom was there, and her mother who painfully knelt down beside Jessica, weeping. Jessica held her.

  “What’s happening?” Jessica asked, looking over at Nick.

  “We had to flee from the farm,” Nick told her. “The undead came in force. I think they came for you.”

  “Yes, yes they did. But they won’t ever again, not like that.”

  “Did you…” Nick couldn’t get the words out.

  “I killed them, the last of those created with Smith’s antiserum.” She looked at her mother. “Hey, Mum, I’m okay.”

  “I was so scared,” Judy Dunn admitted.

  “I know,” Jessica said. She looked at her brother, saw the love there and he gripped her outstretched hand, helping her to sit upright. “I’m sorry about your farm, Tom.”

  “It will be there when I need it,” he said. Would he ever return there though? Probably not. Jessica didn’t know it, but the undead that were still chasing the three vehicles had washed over the entire farm, contaminating it. The livestock he had were already being slaughtered by the ravenous creatures, the land likely never safe to grow any kind of crops on. It would be a wasteland for years to come.

  They may have escaped, but they had a long way to go before they could ever claim to be safe.

  “Where do we go now?” Jessica asked.

  “Leeds,” Nick said, looking at Haggard’s satisfied face. “We are going to Leeds, at least to start with.” Nick had another idea developing. They needed to be where the undead and the virus weren’t. Across the planet, there would be isolated communities th
at were free of contamination. By now they would have shut themselves off from the world, quarantining the last of humankind, separated from the virus by oceans and natural barriers. That’s where they ultimately needed to go.

  26.08.19

  Frederick, USA

  Reece and Lizzy came round about the same time. Reece felt the pain instantly, the bruises across her flesh not matching the pain in her arm. Despite her own traumas, Lizzy hugged Reece, tears flowing from both of them.

  It took a moment for Reece to realise there were other people in the room, Jee and Howell looking over them. Jee was wearing a hazmat suit, Howell in his army-issued NBC clothing. Why were they wearing that inside? On the bed next to them, was the destroyed body of Jessy, the head crushed, the body covered by a sheet that was already soaking through with blood.

  “Oh no,” Reece said. She wanted to weep for her friend, but there was no sorrow in her left to give.

  “Your arm?” Jee said, sitting down on the bed next to Reece. Lizzy cowered away from the doctor, the hazmat suit frightening to her.

  “Broken by the feel of it,” Reece stated. “Why the suit, Jee?”

  “Lazarus got into the facility. I’m…” the words got stuck in her throat. “I’m infected.” Another rock dropped into the pit of Reece’s stomach.

  “Jee, I’m so sorry.”

  “We have a vaccine,” Jee said, “so I might still be okay.” She indicated that Reece give her the arm, and wincing, Reece did so. “Definitely looks broken. We need to get that set. Can you arrange that, Richard?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Jee stood.

  “Don’t go,” Reece pleaded.

  “I have to go into isolation now. I fear I may never see you again, Clarice.”

  “Don’t say that,” Reece demanded. “Never say that. You will make it through this Jee.” Would she though? So many had died, what lunacy said that Jee could somehow escape the fate the rest of the planet had been condemned to.