Those who thought they were running as fast as they could to reach safety suddenly found a surprising burst to their speed. Smoke drifted into the chamber, and John’s men began to pile into the tunnel, the door closing at walking pace. More people appeared, but it was already too late for them, their pleas for someone to hold the door ignored.
“You should have done what I told you,” John said to himself. He had no remorse for their impending loss. It was survival of the most competent now, those who were able to do what they were told. If you couldn’t do that one thing, you really didn’t deserve to have a place in the land of the living anymore.
John stayed outside until the last second. One of the stragglers running towards them veered off slightly to the side, heading to the control panel, a swipe card clutched in what was likely a sweaty palm. The bite mark on the man’s neck was clearly visible. John shot that hapless soul, the zombies now pouring down the corridor that led to the train platform, the screams there starting to build. They would pour in, consume and convert everything there, then they would follow the tracks, most likely pursuing those with the insight to flee down the train line. That threat had already been accounted for.
Nothing could be allowed to prevent this door from being closed.
The person he shot fell hard to the floor, a look of accusation washing over John just as he himself stepped finally into the tunnel. An arm thrust through as well as half a torso, one last individual hoping to squeeze through. John stepped back, knowing that they were too late, the door completely ignoring the bone and the rib cage it quickly crushed, the weight of the door and the motor running it too powerful to be denied. A bloodied arm dropped to the floor as the metal portal thudded closed.
“Blow it,” John ordered the corporal.
The sound of the explosion was an anti-climax, barely audible through the thickness of the steel entrance. They still weren’t out of the woods though. Nothing would get through that door, but there was no such obstacle in the monorail tunnels. Within ten minutes, the millions of dollars that had been spent connecting Fort Detrick to Site R would be evaporated in an explosion that would bring down both tunnels, sealing them forever.
The only chance John and everyone else now had was to run.
***
Reece was already a hundred metres down the tunnel when she heard the noise. Looking behind her, she saw an exodus of people as they came in her direction, voices raised in agitation and distress. Some were running, others walking at a pace faster than her, soon to catch up and overtake the progress Reece had already made. Lizzy was doing her best without complaint, but she walked at a slower pace than most adults. Howell would end up carrying her, but the time for that was yet to come. Or so she thought.
The noise was the entrance to the tunnel closing. Howell had been right. Once that door was closed, not even the undead would be able to get in, its design resembling a bunker’s blast door. It also told her that her prison for the last few days would never again be used for such horrendous experiments. Another part of America lost, another research facility taken out of the equation.
“Tell me if you start to get tired, Lizzy,” Reece demanded.
“Okay,” came the frightened voice. Sooner or later, the moment would come when the girl, still only ten, would be overwhelmed by what was happening. Reece had no doubt of that, there was only so much the young mind could take. She had already witnessed Lizzy go near catatonic in the days past. All Reece could do was be there for her and try and help Lizzy through whatever psychological issues came over her.
By looking over her shoulder, Reece witnessed the door finally close, which should have meant they were safe. So why was everybody still running?
“Come on Lizzy,” Howell said, scooping up the child. “Let’s get you out of here.” He turned to Reece, “Can you run fast with that arm?”
“Just watch me.” What exactly were they running from?
27.08.19
Leeds, UK
The helicopter had landed in a field which was easily accessible by those on the ground. Nick and Haggard had been pleased to see that it was large enough to take them all in one trip, and the flight had been less than five minutes before they landed again.
Shame they couldn’t have done that hours ago.
The M1 barricade had been the outer cordon of the Leeds defences, monitored by drones, satellite imagery and spotters. The helicopter had delivered them to a checkpoint where they had been forced to undergo screening for Lazarus. Nick was relieved that nobody was asked to surrender their weapons as he wasn’t sure the SAS would have done so if asked. They were, after all, supposed to be on the same side here.
The checkpoint was heavily guarded, designed to allow two-way traffic in and out of the Leeds safe zone. As such, it had a decontamination facility, as well as a medical team to check everyone for Lazarus. Unsurprisingly, everyone in Nick’s team passed easily through quarantine, which made the soldiers and the civilians on both sides visibly relax. For now, they could reasonably state that they were safe. They were due to be debriefed, and word was the general wanted to do that himself. He wasn’t here yet though, so everyone in Nick’s party was just sat around which was a luxury that you took whenever you could.
The fresh uniforms and clothes the new arrivals had been provided with was a godsend.
Andy watched it all with passing interest. He had only just arrived here, fitting in easily to the other purple arm-banded civilians that worked side by side with the soldiers to bolster their ranks. He didn’t have any interaction with these VIPs, which is what everyone was calling them. It was a rare event for a helicopter to be dispatched to bring people into Leeds. Normally they were used to ferry people to their untimely deaths out in what was no man’s land. You generally wouldn’t want to venture into the back of one of those helicopters if you weren’t clad in an NBC suit.
Andy was sat down with a mug of tea in his hands when he first saw Jessica. Although they had never physically met, he knew instantly that she looked familiar. The more he looked at her, the more intrigued he became. Where had he seen her before? This wasn’t just a passing acquaintance, this was surely someone he knew well.
Then it clicked.
Jessica was talking to a formidable looking man, but that didn’t put Andy off in his approach. He knew she wouldn’t reject him, in fact he felt drawn to her. There became an urgency in his need to talk to her, and the mug of tea was casually discarded. She spotted him as Andy marched over, their eyes locking, a welcoming smile contorting her lips. The man with her turned his head and cast him a wary glance.
“It’s okay, Nick,” Jessica said to her companion.
“Jessica?” Andy asked. He ignored Nick, his focus solely on her.
“Yep.” There was a boy clinging to her, and again Andy felt he recognised him as well. It was Jessica though, she was the one he wanted to speak to.
“Thank you,” Andy said. Here she was, the saviour of them all. They had only ever seen each other in the desert, but he felt like they had been acquainted for a lifetime.
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Jessica insisted. There really wasn’t. She’d done the only thing she could have done, so how could she take thanks for that? “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” Jessica felt embarrassed to say that. Everyone in the desert seemed to know who she was, but there were thousands of them there. She couldn’t be expected to know everyone’s names, especially with all their faces scarred and burnt.
“Andy,” he said, almost mesmerised by her. It was like being around royalty.
“I’m guessing you’re immune too,” Nick stated. Jessica seemed to keep finding them as if the immune were pulled to her. Andy looked at Nick, finally broken from whatever spell had overcome him. He stuck out his hand and Nick introduced himself. “What’s the situation like here in Leeds?” Nick asked.
“Do you want the truth?”
“Always,” answered Nick.
Andy told him about
the executions, about the curfew and the colour grading system. Nick didn’t like what he was hearing, but he understood the necessity of it all.
“Have they really been killing people?” Jessica asked, truly shocked.
“Thousands of them,” Andy admitted. “I’ve...I’ve been involved with that.” He expected Jessica to back away, to show some horror at his actions. She didn’t, and Nick just nodded with understanding.
“If I got my group together, could you tell them all this?” Nick wondered if this would put Andy at risk. He could feel eyes watching them,
“I don’t see why not.” Should he though? Jessica was important. If she and the people she was with were destined to stay here, they should at least know what they were getting themselves into.
***
When Michelle finally succumbed to the symptoms of the disease, she collapsed at her food station, bringing a whole tray of bread rolls down on top of her. The initial response from those around her was dismay that the pathetic woman had fainted again. That was until one of her fellow servers spotted the black rash that was now visible on her wrists. This revelation sent everyone backing away with fear.
There was an infected amongst them, and she was clearly a long way into the process of her infection. Michelle had one final moment of lucidity, before unconsciousness took her, the body shutting down, its mission accomplished. In that moment, Michelle suddenly realised she would likely be responsible for the death of thousands, and she had absolutely no regrets, so completely had the virus transformed her thought processes.
The soldier guarding the food station backed away, radioing in the desperate news. This was bad, very bad, most likely the worst-case scenario anyone could have thought up. Most of the people fed this morning had already dispersed, off to fulfil the roles designated to them by the oppressive and demanding police state. The only possible salvation was that most would be close by, and there was some record of who had been fed here. People were allocated to this station due to its proximity to their homes or where they were “employed”. They were allowed to turn up and fill their bellies with the meagre rations provided so long as they were on time for the tasks allotted. It had made more sense to bring people to the food than do it the other way around.
“Lock down the area,” the soldier was told, more soldiers quickly arriving on the scene. “A containment team is on its way.”
As the news spread, people tried to filter away. Unfortunately, the feeding station was in a contained area, access through two gates in fences that had been erected to control the flow of people. The food distribution tent had been set up on the edge of the school’s main car park, people being funnelled to it by metal barricades. Every day, people from the locality who hadn’t prepared for their own survival came here for their handouts. Today they got a little bit more than they hoped for.
Now the crowd began to push away from the food stations, chaos steadily rising, the need to escape the virus tantamount. Most began to run the way they had come in, only to find the gates now closed, wire surrounding them, the soldiers stood on the other side. Almost as one, the desperate people surged back, looking for some means of escape. All they found were soldiers with guns pointed at them around the perimeter.
Then the containment team arrived, and panic turned into cold blooded slaughter.
The first person to die was Michelle. Lying unconscious on the cold grass, she didn’t object to the gun that was shoved into the back of her neck. The bullet ripped out her brainstem, ending any future threat that she posed. She was the first, but she was a long way from being the last. The other food servers didn’t fare much better. If there was one infected individual, there would likely be more, and the soldiers implemented the new policy that had only that morning been enacted. The field test strips were all but used up, and there was no resupply pending, some of the last ones used to test the VIPs that had been brought into the safe zone. Single individuals suspected of being contaminated could be quarantined and monitored, but large groups couldn’t be afforded that luxury. If there was a credible threat, there was now only one way to keep Lazarus at bay. Even greens weren’t to be spared.
Scorched earth. Kill everyone that could have been exposed. One hundred and twenty people were slaughtered outside the school, and that was only the beginning. Once the initial threat had been eliminated, they then worked back to find the source of the contagion. Michelle was the most likely candidate as she had been the first to show symptoms. When they traced her movements back throughout the school grounds using the surveillance cameras that had once been used to monitor students, those set to investigate the outbreak saw how bad the situation really was.
***
Gary was fuming and at the same time totally resigned to what was happening. Where he was stood on the edge of the car park behind the locked gate, Gary got to witness something that he didn’t agree should be done. He hadn’t signed up for this. Criminals and scum he had no problem taking out, even the infected held no sympathy for him. But this was indiscriminate, the total slaughter of innocents. Every fibre of his being wanted to say something in objection, but he kept his mouth shut because he had ultimately known this was coming. He’d heard that there had been such purges at the start of the outbreak, but that had just been rumour. The other people around him failed to raise any objections either, each person silenced by fear and the social proof that seemed to imply this was all completely necessary and inescapable.
Some of those trapped tried to climb the perimeter fencing, but they were the ones who got shot as a priority.
This was bold, in-your-face murder. Most of the soldiers who entered the fenced off area formed a line and walked towards the cringing and terrified civilians, methodically shooting everyone they saw. Three soldiers broke off and entered the food tent where distinct shots could be heard. That whole area would need to be razed and burned, the bodies formed here soon to be piled up and dealt with in a similar fashion. For the first time since Lazarus arrived on the scene, Gary realised he was having doubts about his part in all of this. What was the point of trying to save the city if you became more brutal than the actual disease?
Gary didn’t know how these particular soldiers had been picked, but he suspected their selection had been specifically based on their ruthlessness. There would always be some in every regiment, men who enjoyed the killing a little bit too much, who joined up for the “fun” war could provide them. This wasn’t war though, it was an atrocity.
It was just coincidence that this particular fast reaction containment team was stationed at the school, which allowed them to go into action with such efficiency. Once again Gary witnessed how willingly people just surrendered, some getting on their knees to plead for lives that were already forfeit. Nobody tried to fight back, and it took less than two minutes for over a hundred people to be killed. The soldiers wouldn’t deal with the clean-up. There were orange status people who would have that pleasure forced on them. Only this time, Gary suspected that those doing the clean-up would suddenly find death as their ultimate reward. Could those governing Leeds allow word of this massacre to seep through the whispered voices of the city’s population? What Gary didn’t realise was that the madness was only just starting.
As he watched the scene, one of those shot rose from the ground. So at least one had been infected, thought Gary, but it didn’t make him feel any better. The newly formed zombie was quickly dispatched, and the brutality to eliminate the threat from the remaining bodies continued. When everyone was dead, the knives would come out, each body having their brainstem eradicated.
This was what desperation brought to the world, and Gary felt sickened by it. He knew that, for the time being at least, he would carry on doing what was asked of him, but there would come the point where his resolve might break. He wasn’t as ruthless as he liked to make out. Had he been fooling himself all along?
***
Mitch was in the back of the tent when the frightened shouts erupted.
Stepping out of the storage area, he saw his harem of cooks gathered around the main entrance staring out. More trouble? What was it now? He stormed over, fed up with how there just didn’t seem to be any order in the world any more.
“Get out of my way,” Mitch insisted, the subservient women happy to oblige their lecherous master. He looked out of the tent flaps, saw Michelle lying on the ground with a dozen sliced rolls of bread scattered across the floor all around her. The sentry was bending down to examine her, only to then recoil and step back. Even from here, Mitch could see the blackness on the fallen woman’s wrists, and his skin went cold.
She’d kissed him, which meant he was infected. No, he couldn’t even process that thought.
Mitch backed away into the tent. Already more soldiers were moving in, gathering by the main gate. Mitch knew what was coming, could almost taste it in the air. Retreating further he turned and hurried into the storage area, grabbing a butcher’s knife as he went. There was panic growing outside, and he knew he had mere minutes to make his escape. Last night one of his contacts in the civilian authority had told him of the new scorched earth policy that was being implemented. Personally, Mitch figured that was a mistake, the last act in a regime close to falling apart. If they started shooting people indiscriminately, they risked the whole city rebelling. The population might not have had guns, but they had the numbers to at least cause serious problems. There was no way the army could fight the undead and the very people they were supposed to be protecting.
Into the storage area, and Mitch pushed his way behind some crates so that he could get at the tent canvas. A female voice was shouting for him, but he ignored those pleas. This was all about self-preservation now, the seconds of his survival ticking away. It was foolish really because ultimately he had most likely been infected, as had everyone else working here. Hundreds of grateful food recipients were also strolling around oblivious to the fact that Lazarus was surging within them.
The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 5): The Last Page 28
