The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 5): The Last

by Deville, Sean

  “That was never going to happen. You know that.”

  “Yeah,” Andy agreed, “I guess I do. So what happens now?” The captain pulled a testing kit from his back pocket.

  “First, we test your blood. Be thankful, this is one of the last kits we have.” That surprised Andy. How would they keep a check on the population now? The whole basis of this quarantine zone was the ability to ensure the people inside were free of the virus. It only took one individual to spread Lazarus, which had the annoying habit of hanging around, adhering to most surfaces with an alarming persistence.

  “I thought you were getting supplied by NATO?” The original batch of thousands of field test kits had been delivered by planes days ago. Regrettably, the facility on the continent that had been converted to make them had been overrun by the undead. There wouldn’t be any resupply. Technically they would be able to make them in Leeds, but it would require weeks before that got off the ground. Leeds didn’t have weeks...it didn’' have days.

  “NATO doesn’t exist anymore,” Frank advised. “Most of the European countries have either fallen or are fighting for their lives.” Andy found he didn’t care about that, and he pulled off a glove and stuck his middle finger through the wire mesh. It would have been so easy to flip that finger upwards and turn it into an insult, but there was no point to such defiance. The captain was just a cog in a machine he had no control over. This officer might even be the man who ultimately decided if Andy got to live or die.

  “You realise why I didn’t tell anyone,” Andy said as the captain stepped closer. Andy felt the prick as the blood was drawn.

  “Not really. I’m disappointed that you didn’t trust us.” By us it was obvious that the captain was referring to himself. I didn’t trust you because I didn’t know you, thought Andy.

  “Trust you? I know you made me one of the boys, but it’s hard to have trust when there are bodies hanging from lamp-posts.” Had Andy ever been truly committed to the role he had been forced to play? He wasn’t sure he had. It had been fun, it had been an enlightening insight into his own character, but when you got down to it, none of it had been truly voluntary. Never had Andy been asked if any of this had been okay with him. They had just thrust a gun in his hand and set him loose. Do what we tell you and keep your mouth shut while you are doing it.

  “We had no choice, Andy,” Frank insisted with what sounded like legitimate regret. There was always a choice though.

  “I do wonder about that,” Andy countered. He would never really know if there had been a more humane way of dealing with things. Frank pressed the test kit against the bleeding finger and Andy withdrew his digit back into the safety of the enclosure.

  “I’m an officer,” Frank said sagely, “I don’t have such luxuries.” Ah of course, only following orders. That hadn’t been a defence seventy years ago in Nuremberg, it wasn’t going to be a defence now.

  “I would like to thank your men though,” Andy said. “I reckon Gary would have shot me if that patrol hadn’t turned up.”

  “You’re probably right. I read the report. The soldiers themselves almost shot you.”

  “You know Gary is changing, don’t you?” Gary had definitely become more brutal, less compromising in the short space of time Andy had known him.

  “We all are, mate,” Frank advised. “Combat alters you. Sometimes you come out the other side a better person. But something like this, the best you can hope for is to keep your wits about you.” Frank wafted the test kit, to try and speed up the reaction. “Most of the people I knew are either dead or bordering on PTSD. Half the men under my command will be alcoholics if they live to see another month.”

  “Do you think Leeds will hold?” That had always been a doubt with Andy. Despite what the Interim Military government had managed to do, there were undoubtedly millions of undead in the country by now. Sooner or later a significant number of them would reach Leeds. Andy just couldn’t see how they could keep the city from the undead. It wasn’t like it was a walled city, or protected by natural boundaries. Any kind of perimeter established would be weak and vulnerable to sustained assault.

  “To be honest, no.” That surprised Andy, he didn’t expect such honesty. Frank didn’t add that the general was already making plans to abandon the city. “It comes down to manpower. We don’t have enough people, we don’t have enough guns and the southern border of the safe zone is too fragile. Even with months to prepare, I don’t think we could have held it.”

  “So why bother?” That was the ultimate question wasn’t it. If things were so hopeless, why even try.

  “What else were we supposed to do? Plans were made and enacted with the hope that some sort of control could be established. The top brass even used nukes which was probably inevitable. They just didn’t have the desired effect. We didn’t expect the country to fall so quickly. The plan to defend Leeds was based on information that no longer applies.”

  “What happens to the people if Leeds falls?” If he had to guess, there were nearly three hundred thousand civilians left in the Leeds safe zone. You couldn’t move that many people easily.

  “They fight or they die.” It was a shocking statement, but logical when you thought about it. Most of the UK population were already deceased. What were a few hundred thousand lives when you were talking about millions, no, billions worldwide. “If the undead break through, we will save what we can.”

  “The best and brightest?” Andy added.

  “Exactly.” Frank looked at the test strip. “Clear. Looks like you are immune after all.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “No idea, but the general wants to see you.” Andy wasn’t expecting that. Why would the person in charge of this mess want to see him?

  27.08.19

  M1, UK

  They had needed to leave the railroad due to it being blocked by the debris from a collapsed bridge, most likely blown to slow the approach of the undead. The terrain had also limited their approach so they had needed to detour around to where they needed to be. Not only had they encountered a blown bridge, but the junction between the M1 and M62 had been completely destroyed, leaving nothing but impassable ruin. It had taken them twenty minutes to get around that obstruction. The APCs were pretty nifty off-road, but even they had their limitations.

  They were finally on the M1 motorway now, the road ahead blocked by a formidable, man-made barricade. Someone had put up chain-link fencing across the lanes, a thick wall of felled logs extending out from each side of the motorway. Nick reckoned there was unlikely to be a standing tree of any significant size left in the locality, so extensive was the wall created. Concrete slabs had also been placed across the lanes of the motorway, although that was clearly not to stop the undead. The concrete was to prevent vehicles from crashing into the fence. Even a tank would be unable to get past that. The people of Leeds were defending themselves against the undead and those lucky enough to be labelled refugees.

  With the APC idling, Nick opened the back door and stepped out into glorious daylight. The freshness of the air was welcome, the level of pollution in the atmosphere already dropping. Normally this road saw thousands of cars barrelling along it every hour of the day, but it probably hadn’t seen any significant traffic for days. That was the lower atmosphere though. The nuclear fallout was spreading, encasing the world in an icy grip that would last for decades. Nick was well acquainted in the long-term effects of nuclear weapons. MI13 had worked tirelessly for decades to ensure lesser regimes like Iran never joined the nuclear club.

  This exact spot was where they were supposed to be, so where was the welcoming committee? To add to their woes, nobody could be reached on the radio.

  He had expected this perimeter to be guarded, but it made sense that it wasn’t. Leeds wouldn’t have enough men to fully man the border it was creating. All Leeds could do was hold forces on reserve to respond to threats spotted by satellite and reconnaissance drones. The motorway had the added benefit of already
being fitted with surveillance cameras, so anything travelling along it would be easily spotted... assuming there was still power running through the camera grid.

  Sidestepping the concrete slabs, Nick moved over to the fence. It had been properly constructed, holes dug into the asphalt to allow the fence to be embedded there in cement. He pressed his hands against it, found the fence to be solid, reinforced on the inside by support struts. It was thick wire, the stuff used in high security fences. The wooden walls were equally formidable. Whilst it probably wouldn’t stop a persistent horde, it was stopping Nick and his companions. Whilst they had the means to force a way through, it would be on foot if they wanted to go by the direct route. To keep the APCs, they would have to go off road again and try and find their way around. The best option in that regard would be to head North, where eventually he had no doubt the barrier would peter out at some point. You couldn’t surround a whole city, not in the time frame they were talking about.

  He heard it before he saw it, the bright morning sky sharp in his eyes due to the angle of the sun. But there it was above him, the drone descending, its tiny rotors creating an unnecessary amount of noise. There was no doubt this was hooked up for live video capture, which meant he was being watched. Was that a good or bad thing? Nick wondered. He gave the drone a salute.

  Where they were at was fairly secluded, raised above the surrounding land. It was probably why the occupants of the second APC chose this moment to disembark. Nick wasn’t surprised, and he realised the people in his own vehicle would need some respite from the relentless claustrophobia. Turning his attention from the persistent drone, Nick saw the SAS unloading equipment as they started to set up for emergency decontamination. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best they would be able to do, the handheld expedient personnel decontamination system hopefully good enough to deal with Lazarus on the men’s suits, as well as the interior of the vehicle. Unlike on their retreat from Preston, they didn’t have the luxury of a jet wash here. Ultimately what everyone needed was some kind of vaccine. That would make their lives a lot easier.

  And still the drone watched them.

  Tom was ecstatic to be out of the APC and to finally have his limbs unbound. He sat on the bank of the motorway watching the SAS decontaminate and strip off their protective clothing. There was no denying the embarrassment he felt, the panic attack having consumed him totally. He thus thought it best to keep himself separate from his fellow travellers, and was dreading getting back into the vehicle. What if he succumbed again? What if his anxiety grew to the extent he needed to be knocked out and restrained a second time? He was supposed to be a grown man damn it, why had he been so weak?

  This relative seclusion was a mere shadow of everything he craved, but he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to sit on his own for long. Someone would undoubtedly come and disturb him. He thought it would be Jessica, but instead his mother came over to speak to him. She seemed hesitant, as if unsure of how to approach the matter that she felt needed addressing. There was dew on the grass, so she chose not to sit down, instead standing awkwardly on the grassy incline. Tom didn’t care, having selected one of the few pieces of ground with no life growing there. Wearily, he looked at his mother and waited for her to speak. He loved her, but he would have preferred if this conversation wasn’t about to happen.

  “Have you had these attacks before?” Judy quizzed. There was no judgement there, but then there never was with his mother. All he ever really detected from her was love and a gnawing disappointment. Despite his success, despite the millions he had made and the correct precautions he had taken to keep himself safe, he knew his mother thought he could somehow have done better with his life and his talents. All those successes didn’t matter to her, he was sure. Although she never explicitly said it, Judy Dunn’s expectations for him undoubtedly involved marriage and grandchildren to continue on the family name. That was probably even more pressing now with the death of his brother. He was the last male to continue the family line.

  If such opinions were held, it was probably best they remained unaired, because there was no way Tom could ever have brought children into this world. The very idea was abhorrent to him. Even before Lazarus, the planet had been dying. Why add another mouth for the Earth to try and sustain?

  Hadn’t recent events proved him totally correct in this regard? Children would be a complete death sentence now. They needed feeding, looking after, they needed protecting through constant supervision. They made the group weaker, because they sucked away resources without being able to contribute anything to the fight against the undead. Even the aspect of propagating the species was spurious, because ultimately that risked just giving more potential recruits over to Lazarus.

  “I don’t want to talk about it, mum,” he said dismissively. His mother actually sighed. That was a new one, to so audibly express her discontent.

  “You always say that, Tom. You always pull yourself away and say I don’t want to talk about it.” There was a shadow over her words, an anger that was finally being voiced. How long had this been building?

  “I don’t understand what you want me to say,” Tom implored. Why can’t you just leave me the fuck be? Those words he said only in his thoughts. This was why he had kept himself away from the world, it was just easier. This piercing invasion into who he was really represented something that needed to be avoided. There was no good that could come from it.

  “I want you to be honest with me,” Judy implored. “I barely see you, and when I do it’s like I’m with a stranger. What happened to make you recoil from the world like this?” She just wasn’t going to stop, was she? And why now, of all times?

  “There’s nothing to be honest about,” Tom lied. What was she searching for? What nugget of truth did she hope to suddenly have revealed? There was a possibility that she was suffering some form of guilt, as if she was to blame for how he now was. It wasn’t that Tom had experienced a bad childhood, that wasn’t it. There was no abuse in his history, no creepy uncle lurking in the darkest recesses of his memory. He had been brought up as well as any child could be.

  His childhood and his natural genetics had just shaped him into this reclusive individual who was happier to be away from other people. He was beyond introverted, and whilst he was still happy to interact with others, it was best for him if it was on a strictly limited basis. These past few days had been hard on him, complete strangers stomping around his farm and getting into his business. It was why he had been so reluctant to leave his farm, even with the undead threatening to knock on his door. Even with all that, Tom could still admit that he had been luckier than most. That knowledge just made his breakdown even more embarrassing. It didn’t feel right to be at the mercy of something he had absolutely no control over.

  “We need to talk about this, Tom.”

  “No we don’t, mum. You might need to, but I don’t. Not here and not now. I really wish you could see that.” He felt his impatience growing and he took a deep breath to try and stop the ire from flowing forward. It didn’t work. His mum thought she was doing what was best. She couldn’t see the discomfort she was causing, just when all he needed was calmness. “I’m sorry I’m not the son you want me to be, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.” He didn’t want to be angry with her, but he felt the tone change in his voice before he could prevent it. Judy, perhaps realising she wasn’t going to get anywhere, shook her head dismissively and turned to walk away. There was no helping Tom when he was like this, and to continue on this approach would just see her lose her temper. When was the last time that had even happened?

  “I’m here for you when you feel ready to talk.”

  “I know mum,” Tom said, but he knew it was a conversation he would never want to have.

  ***

  “Is your brother sick?” Billy asked Jessica.

  “I don’t think so,” Jessica added. They were stood near the back of the APC, ready to jump inside at the first sighting of the undead whilst sti
ll allowing the sun and the wind to play across their faces.

  “Why did he go silly like that?” Silly, Jessica thought that wasn’t the appropriate word for the chaos that had suddenly afflicted Tom, but she didn’t say anything to the kid. Instead, her gaze wandered over to Tom, where she saw her mother detaching from him, walking back this way. Judy looked defeated. Whatever had been said hadn’t been the result Judy had intended. Jessica resisted the temptation of going over there herself. She knew Tom was best left alone; it was just obvious to her.

  “Things just get the better of them. Some people are stronger than others.” The answer made sense to Jessica, but she didn’t know if Billy would fully understand the gist of it.

  “Am I strong?” Billy suddenly asked.

  “I reckon so. You survived in a town full of zombies. That sounds pretty strong to me.”

  “But I was so scared.” Billy almost seemed embarrassed by it all.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being scared,” Jessica added. “If you weren’t afraid, it would probably mean there was something wrong with you.”

  At that moment, Jeff walked out the back of the APC. He couldn’t help overhear the conversation between Jessica and the young boy. The MI13 operative cut an imposing figure, and he towered over the lad.

  “Scared were you, lad?” Jeff asked Billy, who nodded nervously. This man was bigger than his dad had been. “Makes two of us. I’ve been close to pissing myself in fear for the last few days,” Jeff added with a grin. Billy giggled. It always amused Billy when adults that weren’t his parents swore.

  Jeff knelt down next to the boy so his eyes were on the same level. So few adults did that, preferring to try and compound their dominance over children they spoke to. “Want to know a secret?”

  “Yes,” Billy said eagerly. He liked secrets, and he never broke a confidence.