THE LAZARUS IMPACT
By Vincent Todarello
Copyright 2012 Vincent Todarello
Cover Art by VinTod Photography
www.vintodphoto.com
Blood Spatter Texture by Paree Erica
www.flickr.com/photos/pareeerica
I will knock down the Gates of Hell,
so that man will mix with those
from the lower depths.
I will smash the doorposts,
leave the doors flat down,
and I will let the dead go up to eat the living.
And the dead will outnumber the living.
-The Epic of Gilgamesh, Tablet VII
PROLOGUE
“I can’t believe it. An entire city?” Professor Strauss asks as he is led through the thick, hot jungles of central Mexico.
“Bigger than all the others too, as far as we can tell. Sprawling,” says Dr. Blough.
“Chichen Itza? Tikal?” asks Strauss.
“Bigger. Just goes to show you we’re only now just scratching the surface of the ancient Mayan civilization’s expanse. Imagine what else could be hiding in these jungles?” Blough remarks. “Just covered up. Swallowed by the jungle, reclaimed by nature. It’s incredible.”
“How tall are the structures?” Strauss asks.
“Well the one that prompted the discovery seems taller than Coba. We haven’t officially measured it yet. Like I said on the phone, you’re the first person I contacted once we made the discovery,” Blough explains.
“I appreciate that...”
“But there’s something I neglected to mention,” Blough interrupts.
“Oh?”
“Here. Come this way.” Blough takes a hard turn off the freshly cut path through the jungle, leading Strauss through the brush. He occasionally hacks down the foliage with his machete as they push forward. “Now, the structures are all impressive. But the real reason I flew you down here is because of a burial site we unearthed on the edge of the city. It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen. It flies in the face of every burial custom we know about the Mayans.”
Strauss swats at mosquitoes as they walk. “Well it could depend on the time period this city was active. Burial customs varied between...”
“No. I know. I know all that. You’ll see what I mean when we get there,” Blough explains.
A few minutes later they enter a clearing in the jungle, and several archaeologists crouch on the ground around a cylindrical structure made of ancient, hand-carved stone blocks. It stands about six feet high. The archaeologists carefully remove leaves and natural rocks from the area without disturbing the ruins. They use brushes to sweep away dirt and screen sifters to parse through the gravel. Some are on top of the structure, removing debris from inside it.
“You see the glyphs on the stones?” Blough asks.
Strauss is in awe at the craftsmanship and detail preserved in the stone. Even the paint remains in some places. He begins to translate the pictograms on the stones, mouthing words to himself as he circles the structure. As he goes around, his demeanor changes from awe and excitement to confusion and fear.
Blough notices. “What is it?”
“These symbols. I...”
“I know a few things here signify death. I thought maybe the afterlife too, but it seemed a little confusing to me,” Blough interrupts.
“It’s not the afterlife. It’s after death,” Strauss corrects him. “Or alive with death. It doesn’t make sense, because then there’s some stuff about the heavens, falling stars, or coming from the stars.”
“And the others?” Blough asks.
“They seem to be about disease or illness, and warnings. This was a place that was totally forbidden. Forbidden to everyone. Dangerous, even. Not just off limits.” Strauss notices a large circular shaped stone with a diameter that roughly matches the size of the cylindrical structure. “Was this on top?” he asks.
“Yeah. We needed a pretty massive military helicopter to help lift it off,” says Blough.
“So it was like a lid?” Strauss asks.
“Yup.”
“And what’s inside?”
“Still excavating, but we found some human remains near the structure,” Blough answers.
Just then there is commotion from the archaeologists on top of the cylinder. “There must be hundreds in here,” a man calls out from down inside.
Strauss rushes to the nearest ladder and climbs up to the ledge as a skull is handed up from the archaeologists within. They place it directly in his hands.
“It looks charred, like it was burnt,” Blough remarks from beside Strauss’ ladder. Strauss steps down to examine it with him.
“Yeah. There’s a hole in the skull here,” Strauss says.
“Could it be from the burning? Or maybe trephination?” Blough asks, craning his head to get a better look.
“This is ragged, like trauma; not drilled out like a medical procedure,” Strauss explains. “No, this was done before the burning. I’d need to confirm at a lab, but my gut tells me this was a wound.”
“They’re all like that. All the skulls have holes in,” one of the archaeologists says from up on the cylinder ledge.
“Ceremonial? There are myths of sacrifices, right?” Blough asks.
“No. There’s nothing here that would indicate a ceremonial or religious aspect to this. It’s like it was done out of safety. An ancient quarantine. This might be the earliest evidence of such a practice. It’s like they rounded up the diseased people and put them in here,” Strauss suggests.
“And they burned them. I assume they killed the sick people with a blow to the head, threw them in here, and then torched them.” Blough says.
“I wonder. What’s the significance of the wound to the head?” asks Strauss.
"Could be that it was a painless way to dispatch of the ill,” Blough offers.
Strauss ponders. “Could be...”
“So what do you think about these meteors coming? Think the Mayans had it mapped out and knew about it given their skills at sky watching?" Blough asks.
"Not unless the meteor shower is cyclical. And then only maybe," Strauss says.
"Well, you know we are standing at the edge of one of the biggest meteor impacts we know of on Earth. This whole area was hit, right?" Blough laughs.
Strauss chuckles. "That's true."
"Alright let's call up some press already, shall we?" says Blough. "Maybe we can steal some of the spotlight in tonight's news reports."
CHAPTER 1
"Are we rolling? You got the police there behind me? Yeah? Okay." Wolf addresses the camera in his unmistakable Australian accent, sweeping strands of his wavy silver and gold hair out of his eyes. He puts on a baseball cap and a heavy wind breaker. Steam escapes his mouth with each breath out in the cold. Police barricades block a road that bends through the moonlit fields behind him. He shields his eyes from the harsh camera lights. "Folks, as you know, our own scientists have calculated the location that the meteor shower is likely to hit. Despite the official secrecy and the warnings to stay clear of the area, despite the barricades you see behind me, I’m going to get it on camera for the viewers. Tonight's episode of Extreme Naturalist is live. As always I'm your host, Wolf Camden. Don't change the channel. You don't want to miss this." Wolf looks up over his shoulder and signals to someone. "Off we go then, JT."
The cameraman backs up and catches one last shot of Wolf putting a flight headset on his ears. He sits with his legs dangling out the side of the helicopter with one hand up, grasping a handle on the side of the chopper door as it lifts off the ground. A policeman runs over as they take off.
"What the fuck is going on here? Where are you going with my chopper?" The
officer sticks a stiff hand at the camera lens, knocking it to the ground and shattering the lens. The image goes black.
"Jesus Christ, man. That's a nine thousand dollar camera," the cameraman complains.
"You told me to jab my hand at the camera," the cop says.
"Yeah, but I didn't expect you to smash the fucking thing!"
Wolf speaks loudly over the beating pulse of helicopter blades into a hand held camera. "I've heard your complaints, folks. The show started to come apart as we got more sponsors, more money, more fame. We became comfortable, lazy. Instead of just editing together some carefully shot footage of me climbing vines in the thick of the jungle, or trekking through icy mountains with nothing but a goat skin and a matchbook, tonight I’m going to get right in the thick of extreme danger, and be the first man to encounter a meteor as it strikes the earth. This could potentially be life threatening. Depending on the size of the meteors, the impacts could be something similar to small nuclear explosions. We're told that there won't be anything that large, and that many will burn up in the sky as they enter our atmosphere, but our scientists think otherwise. In any case there could be some potentially damaging after effects, like a dust cloud or debris suspended in the air, or disruptions to power and satellites." Wolf gets a signal from the pilot over his shoulder. "Now that we're well beyond the police barricade, JT is going to let me out and fly back to a safe place."
Wolf takes the flight cans off his ears and puts a hand on his head to stop his hat from flying off in the wind. He hops out of the chopper as it hovers a few feet from the ground. He stands in a field of tall grasses that shimmer emerald and amber as they catch beams of light shining down from the helicopter. The moon is bright, lighting up the night sky and the ground beneath.
Wolf films the chopper as it lifts up and starts to fly away. "Aww fuck!" he exclaims. "Aww fuck! Fuck!" Wolf struggles to focus the camera on a nearing object in the sky. A flaming ball soars through the air behind the helicopter, heading right toward it, trailed by a tail of fire. He sets the camera down on the ground, aiming it up at the sky. He flails his arms around frantically, trying to get JT's attention up in the chopper. It’s no use. A meteor, no bigger than a third the size of the chopper, rips right through it at lightning speed and continues to sail overhead. The helicopter is obliterated in a huge explosion; Wolf feels the fireball warm his face even at a distance, and the ground quakes violently from the meteor impact. The camera is knocked onto its side, and Wolf is thrown to the ground. Bits of flaming debris and twisted metal rain to the earth. Wolf gets up and runs toward the crashed helicopter, dodging the wreckage. "JT! JT!" he screams.
Several moments later he returns to the camera. He falls to his knees in front of it and puts his head into his hands, tossing his hat off to the side. He gathers himself as streams of smaller meteors streak through the night sky above, shaking the ground again as each hits the earth.
He would want me to keep going. He repeats it in his head again and again, wiping the tears from his eyes. Wolf approaches the camera, picks it up, and continues the show. "Uhh. I don't know if this is still airing. But JT's chopper was struck by a meteor. It's just been completely vaporized. There's nothing left but this debris you see here. He's gone. JT... JT was a close mate. A very dear friend of mine for a long time. He's been there with me, with us, on every adventure for the past five seasons of the show. I think, to honor him, his dedication, I should continue on. I have no radio. No cell phone on me, uhh, no way to communicate back to the crew behind the barricade. I can either go back, or go forward. After a moment of silence and a prayer for JT, back there, I decided I should push on and examine these meteors, which, as you can see are still raining down from above. The one that hit the helicopter was only about a meter or two in diameter. That, and all these others you see overhead, are relatively small in comparison to what our scientists say is coming with this shower." He looks up into the sky. "Lots of them aren't even reaching the ground. They're just burning up. But let's go take a look at the craters some left behind. Then we'll get out of here, back to safety."
A massive crater glows with a low orange flame in the field up ahead. The ground seems to sizzle as streaks of smoke rise up from the cold earth.
"The ground is literally steaming. The debris is so hot that it’s turning all that night time winter frost on the ground directly into water vapor." He winces in disgust after breathing some of it in. "Awful. The smell is disgusting. Like a sulfur smell, mixed with the smell of burnt packing foam or plastic." He feels a burning sensation inside his body. Agony and pain overtake him, and a stiffness forms through his muscles that feels like soreness from the day after a rigorous workout. Wolf coughs uncontrollably as a waft of the steam blows up against him. He falls away, out of the gusts to where he can breathe.
CHAPTER 2
Twenty feet below ground, Brandon Jessup watches Extreme Naturalist on a small tube television that he managed to rig up to his parents’ cable service. He lounges on a homemade bean bag chair, vacuum sealed and filled with rice. Tonight’s the big night; the end of the world, or so he hopes. His parents think he’s crazy. Unlike other kids who want new baseball cleats, or who save their money for a car, Brandon stockpiles apocalyptic comic books, first person shooter video games, survivalist books, and canned goods.
"Alright. That's as close as I'll get," Wolf says. I don't know if this is toxic, but it certainly doesn't smell healthy," he says between coughs, standing on the edge of a sloping crater the size of a baseball field in diameter. He has another fit, ending with a throaty vomit. He spits up a stringy mucus and breathes heavily, trying to calm himself. "Well. There goes supper." He chuckles, making light of the situation. “Happy Christmas everyone. And if you’re ever stuck out there on your own, just remember: there’s always tomorrow.” Wolf says his catch phrase with a bit of hesitation, wondering whether there will even be a tomorrow. The confused look on his face speaks volumes to Brandon.
Brandon flips through the channels for a bit. He lands on a news report. They show aerial images of a new archaeological find with narration.
“Thousands of years ago a great civilization thrived in these jungles. Today we know them for their incredible accuracy in star gazing and sky mapping, and their mystical prophecies regarding celestial events. They were the Mayans. The jungle here is thick, but not tall, so archaeologists have had good fortune finding the ruins of their ancient cities. One recent find, here in central Mexico, is ironically on the edge of a large crater basin that was later grown over. In fact that's why the jungle doesn't grow very tall; it sits atop a ground made of almost solid limestone and underground rivers. This ancient location is the same place where scientists believe a great meteor once collided with Earth millions of years ago and perhaps wiped out the dinosaurs, well before the dawn of the Mayan civilization or even mankind.”
I'm not deep enough. Brandon shuts the television and makes his way through piles of canned food and boxes of bottled water. He neurotically counts off food items and supplies strewn around his bunker, as he has done a hundred times. A pretty cool hideout for a teenager, he has outfitted the shelter with many modern comforts, including a most important stack of porn magazines for when the internet goes down. His computer has several instant messages waiting from unknown cyber friends that regularly contribute to Apocalypse Any Day Now, a comic book style doomsday message board. All are eagerly watching Wolf’s show to see if the meteor shower turns out to be a fateful night for modern civilization.
“If I lived as close as you I’d be there watching! Instead ur trapping urself in a dungeon. We r all gonna die. May as well have front row seats,” one message from ENDITNOW says.
“I’m prepared, no, excited, to ride out the aftermath,” he responds from his handle, Zombology15.
“Enjoy your canned beans. LOL,” ENDITNOW retorts.
I will. Brandon turns and looks at his stack of canned beans; a four foot tall pyramid that graces one corner of his bunker like
a temple offering to the legume and fart gods.
He’s off from school. Christmas break. Unlike most of his peers, he’ll willingly spend it locked in the reinforced shipping container buried under his parents’ property; a remnant from the Cold War days. The idea is to give it a test run, to see what it’s really like to survive in a bunker, to ration food and water. Looks like this test run might turn out to be the real thing.
Last week all the news channels could talk about was the so called Lazarid Cluster; a meteor shower that was recently detected and heading for Earth. After scientists discovered the meteor shower, it disappeared for three days and then later reappeared when using the new GOD, or Graduated Optical Depth, space imaging telescope. As such the scientists decided to name it after the biblical story where a man named Lazarus came back to life by the hand of God. The President and all his scientists kept reassuring the public that there was nothing to worry about. Brandon knew they were just trying to prevent panic, anarchy. He saw the websites; the ones popping up for a few hours and then disappearing, where scientists were claiming there would be a big impact.
Everyone knew the government was lying on some level. In their gut they knew it, but it was like no one cared. People simply stocked up on batteries, water, and canned food like they were bracing for a winter blitz that might never come. Even in his quiet suburban town, Brandon saw the shelves in the supermarket thin down and empty. What a waste. That’s only part of being prepared. An entire town can’t stockpile in a week what they need to survive just by raiding the local supermarket. He even posted the sentiment on the message board. It’s too late for them. They didn’t prepare. All those supplies will be wasted.
I don’t have enough! Five months, maybe six. Swiping an occasional few cans of soup and boxes of crackers from his parents wouldn’t cut it, so he got a job at the local comic book store. He made enough to pick up some essentials; large containers for storing water, MREs, batteries, and fuel for the generator in his parents’ shed. Not too bad for a kid. But others would be extremely well prepared; people from the internet.
The Lazarus Impact Page 1
