The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 2): The Rise

by Deville, Sean

  She had fallen asleep in the dress Viktor had chosen for her. It was clear that she stank and, standing, she stripped the crinkled garment off, no nearer to being aware of the cameras that spied on her presence in the room. Susan avoided looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, shame and self-accusation waiting there to claim her if only she would just cast a glance at herself.

  The shower was warm and delightful, and it took the edge off the dilemma she found herself in. But it also highlighted another problem…was hot water classed as a luxury? If she turned Clay down, was this the last time she would experience any kind of comfort? He had shown her what the extravagance of his wealth offered…was she willing to experience the darker side of that?

  Then the other memory from yesterday wandered into her consciousness. Clay had told her that whatever path she chose, she wouldn’t be allowed to leave so long as the plague was running amok on the merciless streets. He couldn’t have relative strangers out there telling people about the setup he had. She was trapped, stuck behind the mansion walls. Safe from the viral evils of the world, but at the mercy of men who clearly had no regard for her self-determination. It was clear that Susan didn’t have a choice. She had to make a decision between the lesser of two very unpleasant evils. Susan found that once again life had dealt her a shitty hand.

  Brian had slept little and lay on his back staring up at an ornate ceiling that defied his understanding. Why would anyone go to the effort of putting so much work into a bloody ceiling? What was the point of all that moulding? Who thought that it was an essential requirement for flowery shit to be put up where people weren’t even looking?

  His bedroom was not as plush as the one given Susan, but then Clay wasn’t trying to persuade him to give it up. It was certainly smaller, and with a single bed that seemed too short for Brian’s bulk. If anything, the room was more functional, with an en-suite and a closet with the clothes he was now expected to wear. It was mainly filled with military style combat fatigues, durable and tough. Nobody could deny that a sense of fashion was irrelevant during the apocalypse. Was Clay expecting everyone to dress like his own private army? Yes, that was exactly what Clay was expecting.

  As high up in the criminal organisation as Brian was, he felt a doubt bloom in his thoughts. Had it been a mistake to acquiesce to Clay’s call? It was clear the paranoia was blossoming in Clay, and instability forming there that would only get worse as the days progressed.

  Brian’s skin still itched from the second chemical shower Florence had forced him to take upon returning in the small hours. That was why he lay on top of the bed, the sheets too much of an irritation, his lower half covered by fresh trousers that had been supplied after his shower. Brian would have hated to see how much washing Clay’s estate was getting through, although he suspected a great deal of the clothes worn outside the wall were just being burnt. No doubt military fatigues were something else Clay had in great abundance.

  The need for the chemical shower confused him. Since his blood test he hadn’t been outside the walls without protective clothing on so there was little in the way of opportunity for the virus to have infected him. But Florence had insisted, and apparently Florence’s word was law. He supposed he could have said no, could have forced his way past her. But then word would have got back to Clay, and as much as he hated to admit it, Brian knew that the crime boss just wasn’t worth upsetting. Brian had seen the world outside, had seen the fear and the resignation in the eyes of the soldiers he had been forced to interact with. Now was not the time to go it alone. The fact that Florence hadn’t required him to undergo another blood test suggested to Brian that the shower had simply been to piss him off. He wouldn’t put it past her.

  As eager as Clay had been to get his hands on whatever the courier was carrying, Brian’s instructions upon returning had been to leave the package with the doctor. There was some speculation as to what the three couriers were transporting, but to Brian’s mind there could only really be one thing that Clay would want so desperately. Attacking the military like that was dangerous, despite the precautions taken. Clay and his men could hold off the undead and the goons that passed for gangsters in what would be left of Manchester… but the army could easily flatten Clay’s house from a distance without risking the life of a single man.

  It was clear to Brian that he had acquired Clay some kind of antidote to the disease that was now known to everyone as the Lazarus plague. The question then arose as to how much of the cure was there? Enough for everyone, or just one man? It made sense for Clay to keep that under his hat. As loyal as the men here were, if they learnt that he had some sort of antidote, there was no telling which of them might decide to take matters into their own hands. Loyalty rarely went so far as to gladly offer up your life for someone, although Clay did have people like that under his charge. Brian wasn’t one of them. He had been willing to do time for Clay, but he wasn’t willing to die for the man.

  His racing thoughts were interrupted as the door to his room opened without the hint of a knock. Susan stood there in a white dressing gown that seemed to swallow her up. She looked distressed, her eyes definitely agitated, and she hovered on the threshold as if uncertain that she was in the right place. Brian sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  “Susan?”

  “Brian, I need to talk,” she said, finally entering fully, closing the door behind her.

  “Okay, talk.” He was tired, worried and irritable. If he could get this over with, it would be better for him. Brian expected her to berate him again, but was surprised when instead she started to cry.

  “I don’t know what to do.” Her back was against the door, her body starting to shake with the sobs that were starting to crash through her. What the hell was this?

  “Hey now,” Brian said standing. He grabbed a shirt from where it was hung on the chair beside his bed. He didn’t need his bare chest to complicate matters here. Buttoning it, he stepped towards her, uncertain as to how to approach the situation. A pub brawl he could handle, but emotional women? That had always been a bit of an enigma to him.

  “Why did you bring me here?” she suddenly exploded. Whatever was troubling her was being unloaded now, Brian even stepping back as if the words were physical blows. What the fuck is going on here?

  “Because I wanted to keep you safe,” was all he could say. Was that true though? Why had he brought her here instead of just leaving Susan to her own devices? The look she gave him was filled with venom. Susan had come to him for help, but she couldn’t get past the fact that, in her eyes, her predicament was all his fault.

  “Well I’m not safe, not even close.”

  “What do you mean? What’s happened?”

  “Clay happened.” Oh shit, thought Brian. Now what? “He wants me to be…” The words stuck in her throat. “He wants me to sleep with him.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Brian said to Susan’s amazement. She looked at him open mouthed, the words seeming to float in the air in front of her. “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “What? I want you to speak to him, tell him how fucking outrageous such a suggestion is.”

  “I can see you are shocked,” Brian said using all the negotiating skills he possessed. Now he saw why Clay was so eager to invite Susan along. Really he shouldn’t have been surprised, there had been stories about Clay’s sexual appetites for years, although the people who worked for him rarely talked about such things. Would Clay really want to be locked up here indefinitely without at least one willing woman around? “And I can see that you find the idea of doing what Clay asks to be unpleasant. But you have to look at it from Clay’s point of view.”

  “No I bloody don’t,” she insisted. The tears were still there, but now there was also hostility.

  “Look, let’s face facts here Susan. Clay has finite resources and he isn’t a charity. You said yourself, the man is a gangster.”

  “But you said I would be safe here,” she almost screamed.
She knew now that she had been right about Brian all along. Had his white knight act been merely to get her here for Clay?

  “And you are. Safe from the infection, and safe from the violence on the streets. And if you pay your way, you will be safe with Clay.”

  “Pay my way?” Was she hearing this correctly?

  “You are under Clay’s protection. That comes with a price. He isn’t known for his altruism.”

  “You bastard.” Susan stepped up to him and tried to slap him as hard as she could, but he easily caught her wrist.

  “You should know by now I’m not the kind of person to try that shit on Susan. I rarely hit women, and I’d prefer not to start the day with such an act. Especially with you.” He glowered at her, and she stepped back, realising she had judged this all wrong. She had seen Brian as an annoyance, an unhappy reminder of days gone by. Now she saw a part of him that only her subconscious had so far uncovered. Was he really capable of hitting her?

  Yes. Yes, he was.

  “How could you?”

  “What the hell did you think was going to happen here? At the end of the day, Clay is a businessman. He expects a return on any and all investments. The people here, behind these walls all have a use. The only useful thing you possess is between your legs.” The words stung her. Brian felt no guilt at the words as they fell from his lips.

  “I can’t believe you’re saying this.” The tears were coming fresh now. How convenient that women had this power to turn on the waterworks, Brian suddenly found himself thinking.

  “I’ve been there for you Susan ever since my brother killed himself. I’ve put up with your desire to self-destruct, and what thanks have I received in return? No, I’m sorry my being around reminded you too much of the man you loved, but that’s more your problem than mine. If anything, a bit of gratitude would be nice.” Brian was angry now, with himself and with Susan. He should have just let it go and not answered her plea for aid the other night. He should have just let her self-destruct and left her to her own devices. His life would have been so much easier without having to deal with all of this. In his heart he knew he owed her nothing. It hadn’t been him that had wrecked her life, that had been a path she had chosen all on her own. Here she was again trying to put him in a difficult situation with the one man he couldn’t afford to upset.

  “You want me to be grateful for your pity?”

  “I never pitied you,” Brian stated. And it was true. If anything, Susan had just been an irritation. Looking at her at that moment, he suddenly felt tired of having her around him. “Look,” he said to try and placate her because he saw exactly where this was going to end up. A shouting match that would end in blows. “Let me talk to Clay. I won’t give you any promises, but I will do what I can.” Those words seemed to calm her, but she found herself hoping he wasn’t giving her false hope.

  Of course he was. There was nothing he could say to Clay that would possibly change the gangster’s mind.

  ***

  As with the day before, Brian was asked to join Clay for breakfast. Viktor was there as usual, Brian seeing right through his butler act. Why Clay trusted the Ukrainian thug was beyond him. The same feast had been laid out before him in the same room, and Brian tucked in, taking his time to savour the food.

  “Good work yesterday, Brian,” Clay said. He seemed genuinely pleased and it was always a good thing for a man like Clay to be happy with the work you did for him.

  “Thank you, Mr Clay,” Brian said, accepting the praise.

  “I hear you talked some soldiers down into allowing you to take the warehouse supplies.”

  “Yes, I thought it better to try it that way. Better to save the ammunition for the Dead Heads, Mr Clay.” The term for the zombies had caught on across the country.

  “I agree,” Clay said with a smile. He picked up his mug and drained off the last of the tea, Viktor there to refill it from the teapot on the table. Clay barely looked at the butler come bodyguard. “There will be more teams going out today because this might be the last chance we have before the zombie menace really gets out of hand. It’s getting bad out there, they’ve lost the city centre.”

  “Do you need me to take any of the teams out?” Brian asked. Clay shook his head to Brian’s internal relief.

  “Shame we had to kill those three lads last night though Brian. I felt it was the only way though.”

  “Yes sir. I feel bad about that, but as you say, to get what you wanted we didn’t have any choice.” He put faint emphasis on the WE, subtly reminding Clay that there were other men with him. Clay seemed to pause as if mulling over his next comment, a piece of bacon rapidly disappearing from his plate. Clay’s next statement was clearly an attempt to catch Brian on the back foot, the thread of the topic completely changing.

  “Viktor tells me Susan came to see you this morning.” Brian looked at Viktor who stood there, stony-faced. Viktor rarely showed emotion, unless it was to express some kind of menace. Brian wasn’t surprised by what Clay told him though. Viktor had always seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. With the limited times Brian had interacted with the Ukrainian, Viktor had seemed to possess knowledge above his alleged position in the criminal organisations structure. It made sense for him to be in charge of the mansion’s surveillance. Considering Viktor never seemed to be involved in the actual running of Clay’s operations, the Ukrainian did seem to wield influence greater than that of a mere butler come bodyguard. Brian was certain that there was some sort of surveillance in the room he had been given.

  “I’m sure then that Viktor will have told you she isn’t happy with your proposition. I’m sure she will come around in the end though.”

  “Women,” Clay said dismissively. “Can’t live with them, can’t punch them in the face in Waitrose car park. Am I right Viktor?”

  “Very droll sir,” Viktor managed. Wow, thought Brian, it speaks.

  “I hoped you aren’t upset Brian. That wouldn’t do, that wouldn’t do at all.” Clay was looking at him now, as was Viktor. As big as he was, Brian knew he would lose against these two men if they suddenly decided to go against him. This was exactly what he was worried about.

  “Your house, your rules,” Brian said. That brought a smile to Clay’s lips. “If anything, I should have known what her protection here would have cost. I’m partly to blame for her…” for a moment he was lost for the word, his mind stumbling to try and find what he was trying to say.

  “Misgivings?” Clay said answering for him. With the word said the crime boss shoved half a sausage into his ravenous mouth.

  “Yes Mr Clay, misgivings.”

  “I gave Susan a clear choice. I will have no dead weight here. She either works or she keeps a smile on my face.” Viktor gave a quiet chuckle at that.

  “Yes, I explained that to her,” Brian agreed. Clay seemed pleased with Brian’s responses so far. “I think she is just looking for assurances.”

  “I won’t lie to you Brian, I won’t force myself upon her. But if she doesn’t oblige me my indulgences, she won’t enjoy her stay here. She won’t have my protection, and as much as I would like to think the men I employ are all gentlemen, we both know that’s not the case.”

  “No Mr Clay. She does seem very reluctant though. I’ll try and talk some sense into her.”

  “Good man. I knew I could rely on you.”

  “May I offer a suggestion?”

  “Please do,” Clay said, giving Viktor a sideways glance.

  “She’s been through a lot and she isn’t a strong woman. Give her a couple of days to settle in fully, get the lay of what it all means to her. Perhaps let Viktor here show her the servants’ quarters.”

  “The servants’ quarters are a tent in the garden next to the kennels,” Viktor stated. Perhaps the words were meant to shock Brian, but he didn’t react. Instead he doubled down on his support of what Clay wanted.

  “Vodka is probably your best bet whilst you weaken her resolve.” Clay looked like he was take
n aback, only to burst into raucous laughter.

  “You see Viktor,” Clay shouted happily, “that’s the kind of loyalty I’m talking about.”

  Viktor watched the exchange with growing amusement. Brian was suitably respectful to Clay, as he should be, but he really didn’t understand the mind of the man he was speaking to. Viktor did, because he was privy to many of Clay’s much darker secrets. He could also read Clay, and could sense the way he was probing Brian for any kind of rebellion or judgement when it came to Susan. Fortunately, Brian had behaved himself, and Viktor saw no deception in the big man’s face. Which was good because Clay was not going to tolerate any kind of disorder in the ranks. Clay had already had two men killed. Another one would hardly matter.

  That was another reason Clay kept Viktor around. Growing up on the streets of Kiev as he had, you acquired certain skills to be able to survive. One such skill was the almost primal instinct that told you when someone was lying or being deceptive. Whilst not one hundred per cent accurate, it was something that had allowed Viktor to escape trouble more than once. He saw none of that deception in Brian now. As far as he could tell, Clay’s lieutenant was on board with Susan’s fate.

  Brian’s aversion to sexual molestation was well known throughout Clay’s operation though, and what Clay ultimately had in store for Susan would present problems. A wise man would not go down the road Clay was hurtling down, testing the loyalty of his top lieutenant so early in the game. Whilst he was not a man to let passion overcome him, Clay was also not a man to deny himself when he had an opportunity. The problem facing Clay was that there was now a scarcity of women for him to indulge in what had likely become an addiction. Viktor knew how big a craving Clay had for the sins of the flesh, for it was he who acquired Clay his women. Susan was presently the only available option, the crisis happening too quickly for Viktor to acquire “clean” girls from his normal supply. Florence was too old and too useful to be a potential candidate. Clay’s choices were thus limited which was possibly making him desperate.