The Lazarus Contagion: An apocalyptic horror novel (Dying Breed Book 1)

by Jacob Rayne

  The lieutenant broke Abbott’s stare, nodded reluctantly. He knew he’d made a dangerous enemy in Captain Abbott.

  ‘And you owe this man five grand,’ Abbott said as he hauled himself to his feet.

  ‘You find out why we were sent there and what we were dealing with,’ Hammett said.

  The lieutenant nodded again.

  As darkness fell, Mark found himself halfway between Taunton and its neighbouring city, Greenville. His belly spasming like an animal in its death throes, he was forced to stop pedalling and pull up outside a diner on a lonesome stretch of highway.

  The interior was far from luxury, but it would have to do. Paint was peeling from the walls and a smell of stale garbage seemed to permeate the waiting area. But inside the restaurant the tantalising aromas of coffee and grilling steaks soon overpowered the garbage smell.

  ‘What can I get you?’ a gap-toothed waitress asked, readying a pad and pen for his order.

  Mark checked his wallet and had a quick look at the menu. Steak was cheap here and he would be able to afford it.

  Why not, might be my last meal, he thought with a grim smile.

  ‘Steak, medium rare. Fries and a coffee,’ he said.

  The waitress took it all down without speaking then nodded and left him.

  When she returned with a mug of coffee, he asked her if there had been any news flashes, his intention to find out if the mall massacre had made the headlines.

  The waitress shook her head.

  Mark had reckoned this would be the case – that the people responsible for the slayings had completely covered their tracks.

  ‘Never mind,’ he said, noticing her puzzled expression.

  ‘Now,’ Abbott said. ‘We’re not leaving until we get the answers we’re looking for.’

  ‘I seriously recommend you change your mind,’ the lieutenant said.

  Abbott pushed the phone across the desk towards him. ‘Just make the call then you can be rid of us.’

  The lieutenant looked up. Saw the determination in Abbott’s glare. Looked away and picked up the phone.

  ‘You don’t know what you’re getting yourselves into,’ he said, sounding resigned now, like it was out of his hands.

  ‘We saw that thing damn near pull Frost’s head off,’ Hammett snapped. ‘So we have a vague idea.’

  The lieutenant dialled a four digit number then held up a hand to quiet Abbott.

  ‘Yes, it’s me,’ he said. ‘They’re here and they want answers.’

  The voice at the other end of the phone said something that was garbled by the phone line. The lieutenant laughed and nodded twice.

  ‘I know. They won’t leave till they get answers. Do you want to tell them or should I?’ he paused a second then said, ‘Ok. I’ll tell them to wait. Thanks.’

  He hung up the phone and turned back to face Abbott.

  ‘The man you need to speak to is on the way. He’ll answer any questions you have.’

  ‘Well good,’ Hammett said.

  ‘Just sit tight,’ the lieutenant said.

  Sylvia was released from hospital that night. It felt like she was being kicked out, a ‘Now you’re fine you can fuck off,’ the more she thought about it.

  She was glad to be out; too many strange things had happened recently and she wanted to get to the bottom of it all.

  The taxi dropped her off at home and she gave the driver a generous tip.

  It felt like she’d walked into an entirely different home.

  Without Ray it was as alien as the surface of another planet.

  She made herself a coffee and tried to ignore the feeling of utter despair that was doing its best to consume her.

  Mark shoved his plate away. If he’d been at home he’d have licked the plate, so impressed was he with the juicy steak. He doubted the delightful denizens of the diner would mind, but his manners prevented him from doing so.

  He had an extra coffee with more sugar than usual (he was aware he had a long night of pedalling ahead of him) then left a tip on the side of the table on his way out.

  He was only a few paces from the restaurant when a man called out to him. ‘Hey, you need a ride anywhere, son?’

  ‘No thanks,’ Mark said.

  ‘C’mon it’s about to piss down. Where ya headed? I’ll take you part of the way.’

  Mark knew he shouldn’t get in the car. Even the most normal looking people could turn out to be crazies.

  But the thought of a miserable night biking in the rain made him change his mind.

  Besides, he still had the gun he’d taken from the dead guard if he got into trouble.

  ‘Alright then, if it’s gonna rain,’ Mark conceded.

  ‘Follow me then, son.’

  Mark wheeled his stolen bike round to the car park at the rear of the diner.

  ‘Just put that in the boot,’ the man said.

  Mark lifted the bike in, being careful not to damage the car’s gleaming paintwork.

  He got into the front passenger seat.

  ‘So, how much for a blowjob?’ the man said as he sat down.

  Mark’s face twisted into a mask of revulsion.

  ‘Relax, I’m just joking,’ the man laughed. ‘Your face was a fucking picture.’ He slapped his leg as he chuckled. ‘Name’s Duggan,’ he said, extending a hand.

  Mark shook the hand, noting scores of tattoos on Duggan’s muscular forearms.

  ‘Used to have a Harley, but my ex-wife took it along with everything else I possess,’ he said. ‘This heap of shit’s all I got left, ’cept the house, a course.’

  Mark nodded, unsure of what to say.

  ‘Don’t worry, I ain’t a crazy. I used to have a son ’bout your age. Don’t want the same thing to happen to you as did to him.’

  ‘What—’

  ‘Please, don’t ask. Let’s just say he’s no longer with us.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Me too. Lot of things changed the day he never came home. But that’s a whole diff’rent story. So, you wanna tell me why you’re running round town with a gun hidden up your shirt?’

  Mark looked down at his clothes.

  ‘Yup, it is that obvious,’ Duggan chuckled.

  ‘I’m in trouble with some dangerous people,’ Mark said.

  ‘I understand. Well, you’re safe with old Duggan here.’ To reinforce this point, Duggan glanced beneath his seat.

  Mark followed his gaze and saw a shotgun lying on the floor.

  ‘Yup, I’m locked and loaded too. So we got one thing in common already, ain’t we?’

  A slim man in designer jeans and a pink t-shirt came into the lieutenant’s office. He had the tan of a fulltime sunbather and held a lit cigarette between the forefingers of his manicured left hand.

  Abbott looked him up and down and dismissed him as a pen pusher, a desk jockey. He prepared himself to hear what the man had to say.

  ‘Hi,’ the man said, taking off a pair of expensive sunglasses and clipping them to his shirt. ‘I’m Adam Jeffries, head of the Jeffries Research Foundation.’

  Hammett shook the hand.

  Jeffries offered his hand to Abbott who looked down at it and scowled.

  ‘I ain’t shaking your hand, boy,’ he said.

  ‘Fair enough,’ Jeffries said, taking a seat at the end of the lieutenant’s table.

  ‘So what’s your sorry story, sending us to die on that godforsaken island?’ Abbott growled.

  ‘Morgan Sands was a dangerous terrorist who had the potential to create an event on the scale of 9/11,’ Jeffries began. ‘He was holed up on that island preparing an attack on US soil.’

  ‘Bull-shit,’ Abbott said. ‘I don’t know what that thing was but it sure as hellfire weren’t no man. Now, stop lying to us ’fore I take your balls off.’

  Jeffries laughed and rolled his eyes.

  The lieutenant looked at him, his nerves once more showing through his calm façade.

  ‘Ok, I guess the “Official Line” won’t work w
ith you,’ Jeffries said. ‘So I’ll level with you gents. Morgan Sands was infected with a powerful biological weapon.’

  ‘What type of biological weapon?’ Hammett said.

  Jeffries exhaled hard. ‘I need you to sign a non-disclosure document before I can tell you.’

  ‘I ain’t signing shit,’ Abbott barked. ‘Now tell us what the hell is going on here.’

  In his anger Abbott forgot all about his damaged ankle and threw himself at Jeffries. When he landed on it he cried out in pain and toppled to the floor like a pushed domino.

  Undeterred, he dragged himself across the floor to Jeffries’ seat.

  Jeffries watched him with the casual sadism of a child pulling the legs off a daddy long legs.

  ‘Ok, ok. Sit yourself down again, Captain Abbott. I’ll tell you what you want to know. But, this must go no further.’

  ‘Just tell us,’ Abbott said, panting hard as he sat back down in his chair.

  ‘Ok. Morgan Sands was the subject of a biological experiment. We wanted to find him and take him out. He was in a secure facility but he had managed to kill his captors and escape. We needed you guys because you’re the best in the game. We knew that, between you, you would take Morgan down. And that’s the truth.’

  Hammett and Abbott regarded him suspiciously. Jeffries lied as easily as most men breathed.

  ‘Say that is the truth,’ Hammett said. ‘There’s still my question that I noticed you dodged.’

  Jeffries sighed and shifted in his chair. ‘Morgan Sands was implanted with a life form which made him superhuman. Faster, tougher to kill, huge pain tolerance.’

  ‘What kind of life form?’ Abbott asked.

  ‘A new species of parasite, completely unlike anything we have seen before, Captain Abbott. Morgan Sands was implanted with an alien life form.’

  Mark’s mother, Alison, checked her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes.

  It had been a good few hours since Mark had rang and she was starting to get very anxious.

  Mark hadn’t been one to stay out late, or go against the grain in any way, until he’d met Rick. The kid was one hell of a bad influence. If Mark was with him, anything could happen.

  So when she heard the door click shut, relief flooded into her.

  ‘Hey, honey, I’ve been worried sick,’ she called out.

  ‘I’ve been worried too,’ said a voice that wasn’t Mark’s.

  She turned in horror and disbelief and saw a man dressed in black.

  He had a shotgun in his hands, a gas mask hiding his face.

  She froze in place, unable to do anything about the nightmare she found thrust upon her.

  Then the intruder smashed her in the face with the butt of the shotgun, bursting her nose across her cheeks.

  Her legs buckled, dumping her on the floor where consciousness slipped away from her.

  ‘What do you mean an alien life form?’ Hammett said, his brow furrowed in utter consternation.

  ‘I really can’t tell you any more, gentlemen,’ Jeffries said. ‘Now, I’ve been fair with you. Please uphold your end of the bargain and keep this under wraps. The press would love this to get out.’

  Abbott and Hammett were too stunned to stop Jeffries leaving.

  ‘Now will you leave me in peace?’ the lieutenant said.

  Abbott and Hammett stood and left, both unable to voice their confused thoughts.

  Jeffries got into the expensive Mercedes waiting outside for him. His driver handed him a phone.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said and punched numbers into the keypad. ‘I’ve told them what they wanted to know,’ he said. ‘So now we need to make sure they don’t get to tell anyone.’

  Mark’s stepfather, Kirk, woke, confused.

  This was his last day off before he started on night shift at the factory where he worked. He’d slept all day in a vain attempt to get his body used to a nocturnal existence.

  Ordinarily, Alison was busy in the kitchen by now, clinking pots and pans, chopping vegetables. He heard nothing from downstairs and this struck him as odd.

  His wife was a creature of habit. The evening meal was ready for eight prompt. It was now five past, according to the clock on the bedside table.

  He put on his glasses, in case their absence had led to him misreading the time. The red LEDs flicked to 8:06.

  He didn’t like this at all.

  ‘We need to sort out a plan of attack,’ Abbott said.

  ‘Agreed. These bastards are going to come for us. There’s no way they’re going to let us out into the world with this knowledge.’

  ‘Shame my ankle’s fucked. I’m not exactly fast on my feet.’

  ‘You’ll have to lie low, Captain. I’ll do all the legwork. So where do we start?’

  ‘That smug son of a whore in the Mercedes would be as good a place as any.’

  ‘I agree, but I think they’ll be expecting us to do that. I say we try to find out where his base is.’

  ‘Reckon you’re right, but how the hell do we do that?’

  ‘Now that’s the part I’m stuck on. Let’s get some place safe and figure that out.’

  ‘So our houses are out.’

  ‘Most definitely. What about the old silo?’

  ‘Good idea.’ The silo had been out of service since Hammett’s first week of service so it would make an ideal hiding place. ‘Yeah, we’ll give that a try. Let’s just make sure we ain’t being followed, huh?’

  Mark watched through the windscreen as the lights blurred in the heavy rain. He felt a bizarre sense of melancholy, of being disconnected from the rest of the world, that he supposed was just a normal part of staring death in the face.

  Occasionally he glanced over at Duggan, who seemed to be giving the road his full attention.

  He reckoned he would be safe with Duggan. Whatever came, he figured he and his new guardian could handle it.

  He broached the subject of the masked men, reasoning that what had happened hadn’t been his fault, and also mentioned that he’d tried to warn his mother but hadn’t been able to convince her.

  Duggan pulled the car to a juddering halt, throwing Mark forward so hard he almost collided with the dashboard.

  ‘So these guys gunned down a whole mall full of people and you’re happy for ’em to call in on your ma?’ he said, furiously shaking his head.

  ‘Well…’ Mark said.

  ‘Fucking hell. Where do ya live, kid?’ Duggan said.

  Mark told him and Duggan performed a reckless U-turn and screeched away in a cloud of exhaust smoke and burnt rubber.

  Snub-nosed revolver in hand, Kirk made his way downstairs. He was a good shot with the weapon – had practised hard in case one day someone broke in – but still his hands shook as he searched the silent house.

  His ears straining for sounds that gave away the location of his wife – or the intruder he felt sure was lurking – he set foot in the downstairs hall.

  He groaned as the floorboards creaked beneath his feet.

  At the same time, a black shape moved away from the wall.

  Kirk fired wildly, using all six shots in a wide arc. He wasn’t sure if he even hit his target, but then among the cordite smoke he picked up the smell of fresh blood.

  Thinking himself lucky to have hit his target at all with his trembling hand, he crouched to hastily cram more bullets into the gun.

  As he stood to fire again, he heard a shotgun blast. The shell tore screaming trails of fire across his belly and he smelt blood again, much stronger this time.

  As he fell, he reeled off the last six shots.

  The second shotgun blast took off the top of his head and he fell, fountaining blood onto the walls and floor.

  The gas-masked man quickly scoured the rest of the house as he knew the whole street would have heard the gunshots.

  The three bullet wounds, in his chest, leg and shoulder respectively, had not yet begun to hurt.

  He knew he didn’t have much time.

  The
little shit from the mall wasn’t here, that much was obvious.

  Keen to cover his tracks, he grabbed hold of the man’s ankles and began dragging him towards the door.

  The body was much lighter than he was accustomed to – the obese herds at the mall had given him some tolerance for corpse-dragging – but he was forced to abandon it as the first sirens began to echo around the town.

  Adam Jeffries swiped his card across the reader and stepped inside the doors of the laboratory.

  A thin, pinch-featured scientist greeted him.

  ‘Any more thorough and you’d need lube,’ Jeffries said.

  The scientist muttered a hasty apology.

  ‘Never mind that. What developments have you got for me?’

  The scientist showed him an incubator containing a thirty-three-year-old male.

  ‘Yes, what exactly are we looking at?’

  ‘This is Subject I. He has been infected with the embryo, as have the others. Out of all the tests so far this one seems to be going best.’

  Jeffries nodded. ‘So, what exactly is different about this one?’

  ‘Difficult to tell, Sir. But he’s well into the second stage of development and is showing no signs of ill health.’

  ‘The first stage is integration, is that right?’

  ‘Yes, integration.’

  ‘So, in layman’s terms, putting the parasite inside the human.’

  ‘Put simply, yes.’

  ‘So what is stage two?’

  ‘Well, the embryo uses its claws to attach itself to the base of the host’s skull and uses its needle-sharp teeth to draw out the host’s brain matter.’

  ‘Delightful.’

  ‘Yes. Subject I is past the usual comatose stage that results from the severe trauma to the brain stem. He is now slowly starting to recover his faculties.’

  ‘He looks like a drunkard.’

  ‘Yes, that’s normal. His coordination has been severely disrupted by the embryo. Right now he moves as gracefully as a drunken sailor. In time, that should correct itself and he will start to function as normal, albeit at an increased capacity.’

  ‘What happens after that?’