The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 2): The Rise

by Deville, Sean

  “Yes, but that’s against regulations,” the Corporal obstructed.

  “Honey,” Reece said playing the part she figured would have the most effect, “You aren’t from Texas are you?”

  “No ma’am,” the Corporal added. It was clear from the soldier’s accent, even behind the respirator.

  “Why don’t you help this gentleman know if his wife is in there.” Reece pointed at the Astrodome. “Such a little thing to stop people shooting at each other.”

  “I just want my wife,” Clayton insisted. “I’m not here for trouble.” The Corporal seemed to mull it over and then talked into his radio.

  “What’s your wife’s date of birth?” the Corporal asked finally.

  “Eleven, two, seventy-four,” Clayton added. He had dropped his gun now, as had most of his men. One of the worrying ones hadn’t and Reece turned to him.

  “Sweetheart, why don’t you point that thing somewhere else before you hurt yourself.” The worrying one looked like he had been ripped out of a trance, glanced around himself and saw that everyone else was now pretty much relaxed. He lowered his gun. “Bless your heart sweetness.”

  “Your wife was brought in two hours ago,” the Corporal reported.

  “Well you go and get her and we will be on our way.” Clayton took a step forward as he said it, the tension ratcheting up again.

  “Mr Clayton, did you receive the call this morning?” The call that Reece was referring to was the call for help by the Governor.

  “Yes we did, deputy, and we were all willing to do our part until my wife fell ill at the hospital where she works. That’s where she needs to be.”

  “What job does she do, sir?” Reece asked. She moved closer to Clayton, her hand now no longer on her gun.

  “She’s a nurse. She had sniffles last night and insisted on going into work this morning even though she felt unwell. We all rise to the challenge, her more than most. Then I hear she’s been shipped off to this infernal internment camp. Betrayal is what I call it.”

  “Those infected have been brought here for their own safety,” the Corporal said. Reece just wished he’d stop speaking.

  “Bullshit,” one of Clayton’s men shouted. It got a murmur of approval from the crowd. Reece spoke again, she had to calm this because now she was, perhaps foolishly, right in the middle of it.

  “She’s a nurse, which means she would have been tested yesterday. Just as I was.” Reece put her hands on her hips. “So if she was infected, she would have got the results today…just as I did.”

  “You’re infected?” Clayton’s body language actually told her he looked upset about the news.

  “That I am. That’s why I’m here, because this is the best place for me.” Reece unbuckled her gun belt and held it out to the Corporal. “If these boys have no objection, I’d like a room with a view please.” The Corporal took the belt off her.

  Reece knew that without her intervention this thing would have devolved into a shouting match. Then the bullets would have started flying. Men were just so goddamn predictable. She helped diffuse the situation, but only because the anger was drowning out the good in these men. It didn’t take much for Reece to persuade the Corporal to get Mrs Clayton on a radio so her husband could talk to her, especially with the subtle hint that Clayton’s militia was nearly three hundred strong.

  It was good to see the husband’s tears as he clung the radio to his face, all the tension melting out of him as his wife calmly told him that her being here was for the best. Likely she told him off for being the loveable dolt he was. In this place, she could help as many people as she could whilst getting the treatment she needed. As big and as scary as Clayton was, Reece knew the mother of his children meant everything to him. That was the kind of relationship Reece had almost had once. Both of the Claytons would have been willing to die to save the other. Good people caught up in a shit situation. Fuck whatever God allowed this to happen.

  “Thanks, deputy,” the Corporal sounded relieved as the pickups drove away, a lot slower than when they had arrived. Reece had already joked about letting them all off the speeding tickets they were due.

  “Things are getting hairy out there,” Reece said. “You need to remember people are scared and unpredictable. Next time, be a bit more understanding.”

  “Yes ma’am. Can I say, you didn’t look scared during any of that.” That made Reece chuckle. She was talking to just a kid it seemed.

  “Christ man, I’m already under a death sentence. What else is there for me to worry about?”

  22.08.19

  Manchester, UK

  Only one of the dresses properly fitted her, and Susan wasn’t stupid enough to consider that this had been a genuine error. The outfit was black and elegant, the dress just reaching the floor. But it exposed much of her back and would only work if she went braless. The plunging cleavage made that a challenge for her until she found some tape to hold things in place. There was a long slit down the side of one leg as well, meaning she would need to be very careful when she sat down. The butler had also brought her some black lace underwear which she was hesitant to wear. With the makeup, she had done what she could to hide the bruising on her face and neck.

  The heels on the shoes were higher than she was used to also. Even so, the whole outfit was probably worth more than she had been able to earn in a month when she had been working. It was also very flattering to her figure, as if the dress had been made for her. The jewellery she wore in her ear was not even close to matching the finery of her attire, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror one final time and mulled over the prospect of what she was getting herself into.

  Where the hell was Brian anyway? Why hadn’t he come to see her? Probably, she told herself, because of the way you keep showing him you don’t want him around.

  Opening the door to her room, she wasn’t surprised to see the Butler standing there again for her. Had he been stood there ever since he dropped the clothes off? He must have been, how else would he have known she was ready? There was no way for Susan to know about the surveillance cameras covering every angle of the bedroom she had been given.

  “Madam looks radiant,” Viktor said blandly. “If you will follow me.” The heels were difficult for her to walk in and she struggled to keep up with Viktor who seemed to glide rather than walk.

  “Are you a dancer?” she asked him.

  “I have many talents,” Viktor said, not really answering her question. The corridor led to a marble-lined landing, and he led her down a flight of stairs, slowing her progress even further. On the ground floor, Viktor waited for her to descend, no hint of any emotion detectable in his face.

  “The kitchen is this way, madam.” She could already smell the food, fantastic aromas filling the air around her.

  “Smells wonderful,” she observed, finding a need to make small talk.

  “Yes madam.” Viktor reached a large oak door and held it open. It led into the biggest kitchen Susan had ever seen, and she walked inside, Viktor closing the door behind her. There was a dining area, the open plan square footage probably larger than her house.

  Inside, Clay was stood by one of the stoves, depositing freshly cooked food onto a pair of plates. He had on a tailored shirt and slacks, a cooking apron covering his substantial belly. The apron was black and had white letters saying I’ll get spicy if you get saucy. The attempt at humour didn’t really seem to fit the surroundings.

  “Susan,” Clay said enthusiastically. “So good of you to join me.”

  “I didn’t realise you would be cooking the meal,” Susan said. Behind her, Viktor poured a glass of red wine and handed it to her. She took it absently.

  “For a guest as stunning as yourself, I would be foolish not to. Please, sit down.” Susan looked around and saw that Viktor had pulled a chair out for her at the head of a table. The table was long, able to seat at least twelve people, and was positioned by a panoramic window th
at gave a delightful view of the ornate gardens. Clay pulled his apron off and lifted two plates up in his big shovel-like hands. The apron was left casually on the kitchen work surface, its presence almost an affront to the immaculate condition the kitchen was in. Walking over, he set one plate down in front of Susan, and the other on the placemat next to hers. Clay sat down not needing any assistance from Viktor who stepped back to a respectful distance.

  “This smells wonderful,” Susan said. She was nervous about what this was all about, but she was strangely reassured that Brian wouldn’t bring her anywhere where she was in danger.

  “Wait till you taste it,” Clay bragged. He was bigger than she remembered, both in terms of muscle and fat. He wasn’t grossly obese, but he could have done with losing a stone or two. Susan cut a piece off the salmon she had been served and popped it into her mouth.

  “This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” Clay said. He seemed genuinely pleased, and as he dug into his own meal, Viktor appeared over his shoulder as if on some unheard command. The empty glass on the table quickly filled with the same wine Susan was drinking. Well at least the wine isn’t drugged, Susan found herself thinking. She stopped eating to drink a healthy mouthful.

  “I’m not really used to this kind of elegance,” Susan admitted almost embarrassingly.

  “Very few people are. Even those who get it rarely enjoy it.” Clay took a gentle sip of his own wine. “Me, I relish the finer things in life.”

  “I’m surprised you had time to do all this,” Susan noticed.

  “Susan you are my guest. It is important to me that you are looked after. Especially with what’s happening outside the walls that surround us.” He put his fork down and lightly gripped the top of her hand where it rested on the table. Her fingers seemed so tiny and delicate when compared to his sausage-like appendages. “It’s important to me that you fit in here.” The gesture seemed genuine, but she still felt uncomfortable with the physical contact. She didn’t break it though.

  “I was surprised you let me stay.” The hand finally withdrew.

  “You are Brian’s family. He seemed concerned about you, but I don’t want you thinking I’m being all altruistic here. I need Brian’s mind on the prize, I can’t have him getting distracted by you being at risk on the outside world.” Clay took a larger swig of wine, Viktor on hand to refill the glass. “He’s spent a lot of money looking after you the past few years, you should be thankful. Besides, this house is empty without the presence of at least one beautiful woman. I’m not sure Viktor would look too good in one of my dresses. Isn’t that right Viktor,” Clay laughed.

  “Very droll sir,” Viktor commented without even the hint of humour. Outside a man walked past the window. He carried a machine gun and a gigantic German Shepherd was unleashed at his heel. Neither paid Clay or Susan any attention.

  “How many men do you have here?” Susan asked.

  “Forty-two. I’m a little understaffed because I had to give the maid the day off.” For some reason, Clay found this immensely amusing. Susan took the last piece of salmon and slowly placed it in her mouth. “Every man has been specifically chosen for his worth. They are here because they are loyal and because they realise I offer them the best chance for their long-term survival. Even now your faithful Brian is on his third supply run to bring me the provisions I need to keep everyone safe.” Clay pushed his plate aside. “You do want to be safe, don’t you Susan?”

  “Yes of course.” The back of her neck itched a warning to her. Here it comes.

  “Good. Because everyone here has to earn their keep.” Clay looked at Viktor and nodded over to the oven, the butler leaving his post so as to deliver up the next course. The itch got stronger, danger signals going off in her head. Clay must have detected concern on her face. “Do not be alarmed my dear, there are several ways you can be useful to me.” Viktor extracted a sizzling joint of lamb from the oven.

  “What would you need me to do?”

  “Susan, I am a businessman. Whilst I have been known to engage in acts of charity, that has always been with the understanding that such acts benefited me primarily.” Susan found herself distracted by the way Viktor was carving up the meat. She nervously finished the wine in her glass.

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Then let me spell it out. To stay here you will be expected to pay your way. How you choose to do that I will leave up to you. Obviously, you are not equipped or trained to help defend my mansion so we need to find a position more…” Clay paused as if mulling over the words, “more suited to your talents.”

  “My talents?”

  “You are an attractive woman with no specified skill set that I have been made aware of. You have no medical training that I know of, nor are you proficient in the use of firearms. I’m sure you can work the rest out for yourself.” Susan sat there in shock, her fears finally realised. Part of her wanted to explode in outrage, to shout at Clay and chastise him for his arrogance. But the part of her mind that craved survival stopped her. These were not men you could insult and scream abuse at lightly.

  “Would that mean having sex with…” She couldn’t get the words out.

  “With me? Of course. And frequently too.” She looked at him, close to tears. A plate of the most delicious looking lamb she had seen was placed before her, but any appetite she held had long since disappeared. “You’re shocked, that’s understandable. Know that I would never force myself upon you, as I find such things detestable. So if you were to decline my offer of protection, I’m sure we could find you a roll more agreeable.” Susan was blushing now. She had only met this man on a few previous occasions, and she had never expected him to be so forward with her. “As I said, my maid is no longer under my employ, so I will be needing someone to keep my house spick and span.” He sat back as his main course was delivered. “All house staff work under the direct supervision of Viktor here. What do you think Viktor, do you think you can whip her into shape?” Viktor said nothing.

  “Can I… can I have time to think about it?” Susan found herself asking.

  “Of course you can my dear. Why don’t you sleep on it and let me know in the morning? Know though that servants don’t live in the main house and you will be on survival rations. No more luxury, no more access to the alcohol you so obviously crave.” There it was, the final knife into her gut. Was he really prepared to use that against her? Damn right he was.

  “Do you promise never to hurt me?”

  “My dear, why would I want to harm a hair on your head? The only violence I ever use is against my enemies and those who betray me. You would never betray me now would you Susan? You would never dream of disappointing me?” It was all said with a smile, but the threat was there floating just below the surface. “Now eat. We have to keep your strength up.” Susan forced herself to consume her second course despite the knot that had formed in her stomach.

  “Think of what it would mean to you though Susan. As a mere maid, you would be the least useful person here, looked down upon by everyone. But as my lover, you would experience wealth and power that you could only dream of.” As Viktor refilled her glass, she caught him with his guard down, a look of utter contempt etched across his face. Or was that done deliberately, just to empathise the alternate fate she could choose?

  This was insane, but was it any worse than being one of those faced with survival on the streets? Susan’s mind swam with the implications of it all. Oh Brian, what have you done bringing me here?

  22.08.19

  Leeds, UK

  Andy Burns had filled his house up with food two days ago and hadn’t left the house except to go to the garage a few times. Neither time had he encountered his psychotic neighbour Iain, which was something he was thankful for. He doubted his neighbour would be an immediate threat, but at no time now did Andy leave the house without his loaded shotgun sitting in the crook of his arm. The gates to his driveway were closed
and locked with a large padlock he had never thought he would need to use.

  One of the things he hadn’t bothered buying on his shopping spree was water. A few years back he had purchased himself a dozen five-litre plastic containers, which had all now been filled via his house’s outside tap. They were now carefully stored in the upstairs bedroom, with the bulk of his food, most of which was chosen because it wouldn’t need cooking.

  His mind was still telling him that the government would somehow get everything under control, even though the ever decreasing news channels were painting a dire picture of desolation and hopelessness. The British terrestrial channels were still giving the old “stiff upper lip” version, but most of the foreign broadcasts told the news for what it was. Riots in a burning Paris. Bangkok lost. Nuclear devastation in China. Forced deportations in Hungary. Mass executions in Russia. And all under the enveloping cloud of the undead who were on the march across the world.

  With the bathtub full, Andy reckoned he had enough water to last about two months. But he didn’t need it yet, the taps still freely flowing. Even with how much he had purchased, he was likely to run out of food first, so he had been briefly tempted to go out and get food from one of the distribution centres the army had set up, but that really was only going to be a last resort. Andy just didn’t want to leave the apparent safety of his home. The virus was only just unleashing itself on Leeds, so he was sure it would be days before Hell’s Armies came knocking at his door. Maybe, just maybe, the powers that be might be able to actually get this area of the country under control before then.

  Last night had been briefly intense and Andy had barely managed to get any sleep. His detached house was on a hill and on the edge of the estate that the affluent moved to so as to escape the pollution and gridlock of the city centre. His back garden was guarded by a fence and thick trees that were virtually impassable. The only way onto his property was via the front driveway or over the fence he shared with that cretin Iain. Being on a hill, he also overlooked much of the middle-class estate as well as the main road that for much of the night had seemed deserted. For a ten-minute period though, the road, which was probably only a hundred metres from his front door, had been the scene of carnage. A gang of about a hundred had fled before a line of riot police. If he hadn’t known better, Andy would have sworn the police had been firing live rounds. It had certainly sounded like it.