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

by Jacob Rayne

  The creature twitched.

  Flesh burnt.

  Lights dimmed.

  Mark felt it trying to escape the grip of the tongs, but he held it tight, squashing the flat wooden paddles into the creature, using it as an outlet for all the fear and grief he felt.

  The creature let out one final fit then fell still.

  The air stunk of burning flesh and singed hair. Duggan gave it a few extra seconds then turned the socket off.

  Mark released his grip on the tongs, letting the lifeless creature fall to the floor.

  In death it was shrivelled and pathetic, far from the majestic beauty it had possessed in life.

  Mark nudged it with the tongs, wanting to ensure it was really dead. It did not respond.

  ‘Fucker’s finally dead,’ Duggan said.

  Milo was the only one of them not staring at the creature’s scorched corpse.

  Duggan caught sight of the boy looking in the opposite direction to everyone else.

  ‘What’s up, kid?’ he asked.

  Milo pointed to the ventilation duct, where dozens of the shimmering moths were starting to pour into the room.

  Sylvia heard the creature behind her.

  She knew it was faster than her.

  Knew that she had virtually no chance of outrunning it.

  But still she ran through droves of the strange, water-like moths, knocking them out of her way with frantic swats of her hands.

  After hurdling the torn, blood-spattered body of a young girl, she ran smack bang into a heavy-set man in his thirties.

  ‘Shh,’ he said. ‘Come with me.’

  ‘Who are you?’ She feared he was one of the gas-masked men who’d tried to kill her or, worse, another of the alien creatures.

  ‘I’m in the US naval corps. Name’s Hammett. I’ve been trying to find Captain Abbott, my commanding officer.’

  ‘I know him. He’s at the church where my husband used to be.’

  ‘Let’s go, before that thing comes for us.’

  Sylvia let him lead her by the arm, down through a maze of tunnels that she doubted the creature could fit through.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘I was in the lab with those things. I managed to get out and heard that everything was kicking off at this hospital. I figured that was the most likely place for our test subjects to be lurking.’

  ‘How did you get in? When I came here there were armed guards everywhere.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have made it inside if it wasn’t for this old dude. He walked up to one of the guards and snapped his neck. Just like that,’ he clicked his fingers. ‘I managed to sneak in through one of the windows when the bullets began to fly.’

  ‘That was my husband.’

  ‘Ah, shit. Is he ok?’

  Sylvia’s silence spoke volumes.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I thought he was going to make it. He had one of those things in his head.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. But he was still the same. The monster didn’t change him, just brought him back to life.’

  ‘I’d have thought that the creature would survive. They’re pretty hardy fuckers, ’scuse the language.’

  ‘That’s ok.’

  They heard the sound of the creature’s claws at the entrance to their hideout.

  ‘I say we get out of here before that thing finds its way in here,’ Hammett said.

  ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’

  Duggan fought back panic at the sight of the growing cloud of the moth creatures. If he lost it the kids were as good as dead.

  ‘We’re gonna have to get out of here,’ he said. ‘No way can we fight off this lot when one nearly had us fucked.’

  Mark was taking advantage of the gas mask by using his hands to slam a piece of scrap carpet against the creatures.

  It didn’t seem to hurt them, in fact it was getting them agitated, making them circle like miniature cyclones.

  ‘Stop that,’ Duggan said, noticing that the creatures seemed more riled up. He brushed one off his shoulder. ‘Come on, one of you, lead us out of here. I don’t have a fucking clue where I’m going.’

  Milo used one hand to block off one ear and nostril and did the same with his other hand.

  The sound of leathery wings was thick in their ears as they followed him through the maze of tunnels.

  Captain Abbott tried Duggan’s phone in case he had any news of what had been going on at the hospital. When there was no answer he slammed the phone down and let out a curse.

  He felt useless, sat here like this.

  He knew it was best, with his ankle still being a little on the fucked side, but he couldn’t help but feel he’d been sitting on the side-lines for too long.

  Struggling to his feet, he stuffed his guns into his belt and tested his ankle. It wasn’t great, but he found he could keep his weight on it without wanting to scream.

  ‘It’ll have to do,’ he shrugged and hobbled out into the graveyard.

  At the end of one of the tunnels one patch of darkness seemed to be different to the rest.

  It was a long few seconds before Duggan realised that this was because it was one of the gas-masked guards.

  Duggan, Mark and Jake threw themselves to the floor as the man’s muzzle flashes lit up the darkness.

  Through the strobe effect of the flashes they saw Milo take a bullet in the stomach.

  The next illumination showed his blood spraying onto the wall behind him.

  The third saw him slump to the floor, his shattered skull spewing gore.

  While the masked man admired his handiwork, Mark squeezed off a couple of shots. They found a home in the guard’s shoulder, spinning him and sending his burst of gunfire into the tunnel wall.

  Jake tugged Duggan’s arm and led him to the left.

  Mark and Zeke followed.

  Behind them they heard the guard’s muttered curses and ragged breathing.

  They also heard the distant sound of the many pairs of wings following them.

  At the end of the path out of the graveyard, Abbott slammed right into a well-built man. He fell back, landing in the mud and leaf mulch in the graveyard entrance, and had his gun aimed upon the stranger within a split-second of his landing.

  ‘Well that ain’t no way to greet an old friend,’ a familiar voice from above him said.

  ‘That can’t be you, is it?’

  ‘Sure as shit ain’t no one else dumb enough to still be hanging round here, Captain.’

  Abbott hauled himself to his feet, pain in his leg be damned, and threw his arms around Hammett.

  ‘I thought you were worm food, Sergeant,’ he said.

  ‘So did I. I found Sylvia too. She’s in the car.’

  ‘How’s Ray?’ Abbott asked. ‘I feared as much,’ he said when Hammett had failed to reply.

  ‘There’s not much left around here. Those things are breeding and spreading out. Looks like this place is gonna be overwhelmed soon.’

  ‘Where we headed?’

  ‘I managed to find out where that son of a bitch Jeffries is based. He’s already gone.’

  ‘You got a map?’

  Hammett tapped his right temple, ‘No, but I memorised the location from a file I found. It’s just on the edge of Greenville.’

  ‘Grew up there,’ Abbott grinned. ‘Mama I’m coming home.’

  ‘You want to wait in the car?’

  ‘Yeah. My leg’s still not great. There’re some more guns in the church. Sounds like we’ll need them all.’

  ‘I reckon so. Car’s across the road. I’ll get the guns and meet you there.’

  Duggan spun and fired over Zeke’s head, hitting the gas-masked man flush in the throat.

  His neck spouted blood like a geyser and he clattered against the tunnel wall as his hands scrabbled at the gushing wound.

  They turned the corner and soon found themselves staring into the absolute darkness of the lift shafts.

  The
huge bore seemed to drop all the way to the centre of the earth.

  Duggan let out an appreciative whistle and spat over the edge.

  Below them he saw the shimmering effect of the dim light hitting dozens of alien wings.

  Mark and the two lads saw it too.

  They started to edge their way across the narrow walkway that Jake had made from scraps of discarded wood.

  Duggan had felt that the walkway wouldn’t take his weight and had wanted to go round another way, but Zeke had insisted that this was the quickest way to the exit.

  Duggan didn’t like the way the wood was flexing beneath Mark’s weight and he had at least four stone on his adopted son.

  Mark moved faster than he dared, reasoning that the faster he crossed the precarious bridge the faster he’d not be staring down into the mouth of hell itself.

  He managed to reach the other side without the wooden plank breaking, although it was letting out too many creaks for his liking.

  ‘What’s that thing fastened together with?’ he asked Jake.

  ‘Furniture pins and glue,’ came the muffled reply from behind Jake’s mask.

  ‘Holy shit,’ Duggan breathed, shaking his head. ‘You’d best go first, cos I doubt there’ll be much of it left after I’ve trod on it.’

  Jake moved onto the plank and, again, it flexed beneath the weight.

  He’s half my weight, Duggan thought.

  Jake didn’t look down and didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he only had a six inch width of wood between him and a deadly fall.

  He moved with a fast, balletic grace and was across the plank faster than Duggan could believe.

  To be a kid again, he thought.

  Zeke moved onto the planking as confidently as Jake had, but paused for a second as the plank wobbled beneath his feet.

  Duggan’s heart was in his mouth, aware that it was his turn next.

  If the kid crossed as fast as Jake had, he’d be on there in a minute, a minute and a half tops.

  I could be dead in two minutes’ time, he thought.

  He slapped himself across the face and pleaded his mind for calm.

  Zeke reached the other side and turned to Duggan, a look of eager anticipation on his face.

  Duggan safetied the shotgun, tucked it under his leather jacket and stepped to the edge of the shaft.

  He stared down into the dark, into death’s gaping maw, for a long drawn out second before managing to tear his eyes away.

  He tried to fix his stare on his three young companions on the other side.

  Then he closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and stepped onto the plank.

  Sylvia drove. Hammett was in the passenger seat, Abbott in the seat behind Sylvia.

  They knew, from Sylvia’s story of her capture by the guards and subsequent rescue by Subject I, that the roads out of town were guarded and were each armed with a submachine gun to mow down any guards that tried to stop them.

  Sylvia was under strict instructions to flatten anyone who got in front of the car and, ordinarily, this would have been something she’d have refused to do, but since her rough ordeal at the hands of the guards, and her anger and distress at Ray’s death, she was no longer as kind-hearted as she had once been.

  Anyone who stepped in front of the car was going to need scraping off the road.

  They headed towards the west side of town, away from where Sylvia had been captured.

  It wasn’t long before they saw the searing halogen lamps that carved a path through the night.

  ‘Jesus dragged-up Christ,’ Abbott exclaimed, pulling his Stetson down over his eyes.

  Hammett handed him a long rectangular object. He flipped the lid and saw a pair of Aviators. He stuck them on and this cancelled out most of the glare from the lamps.

  ‘Thanks,’ he muttered, his teeth clamped around an unlit cigar.

  A few minutes later they saw the silhouettes of the guards at the roadblock.

  ‘You guys ready?’ he said.

  Sylvia exhaled hard and nodded. Ray’s face flashed into her mind, spurring her on.

  ‘Yep,’ Hammett said.

  ‘See you on the other side,’ Abbott said as the car hurtled towards the roadblock and the dozens of guards that waited there.

  Duggan found that he hadn’t moved in a few minutes.

  The initial shaking of the plank beneath him had been enough to make him freeze.

  His gaze felt drawn to the black hole beneath him, as though he had ton weights on his chin, tipping his gaze downwards.

  His legs shook beneath him, making the plank vibrate.

  This in turn made his legs shake more, trapping him in a vicious circle.

  ‘Come on, Duggan, you can do it,’ Mark shouted. The cry echoed around the lift shaft.

  Duggan looked up and saw the fear on the boy’s face.

  He held his arms out by his sides and forced himself to move forwards. The movement made the plank flex beneath him.

  The sound was as loud as a bone breaking and made Duggan think that the plank was broken.

  It remained intact.

  Urged on by his success so far, he took another step, and another.

  The other side appeared no closer.

  Death lurked beneath him, patiently waiting for him to drop in.

  Staring at the plank in front of him, knowing that if he misplaced his foot even slightly he was going to fall, he moved even more slowly than before.

  After a few cautious steps, he reached the first of the two joints in the wood, where Jake had married the end of one plank to the other with a short overlapping section of wood.

  He felt certain that it was not going to hold his weight, but it did.

  For the first time, he started to feel as though the plank might actually support him, as though he might reach the other side.

  And as soon as he allowed himself to think this, he saw movement from the right of Mark, Jake and Zeke.

  He looked up to see one of the gas-masked men, his mask the only part of him that tore through the darkness.

  In slow motion, Duggan saw the barrel of the gun come up until it was level with his stomach.

  He had no time to reach inside his jacket for the shotgun, and, even if he did, the abrupt movement was likely to tip him off the plank.

  Suspended above the sheer drop into blackness, he froze in utter helplessness.

  Abbott and Hammett had each gunned down three guards before the others realised that their vehicle wasn’t going to be stopping at the roadblock. The remaining guards opened fire on the car.

  Sparks flew from the car doors as bullets ruined the expensive paintwork.

  The glass seemed to be reinforced and the bullets danced across it, making little musical noises as they did so.

  Through the gaps in the windows where their guns poked, they heard one of the guards making an announcement on the loudspeaker.

  It sounded like, ‘Stop now and we’ll let you live.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Sylvia said.

  Abbott squinted and took down another guard, sending his gas mask skittering across the road.

  Hammett caught the shot out of the corner of his eye and let out a whoop.

  One of the guards stepped out into the road and held out a hand, as though this simple gesture was going to be enough to halt the speeding car.

  The car crashed into him, buckling his legs, slamming his head against the windscreen, making bloody cracks spiderweb across the glass and sending his battered body bouncing off the roof of the car onto the road behind.

  ‘Nice driving,’ Abbott said.

  Hammett brought his gun round in an arc, taking down two guards who were crouching just a little too high above the bumper of their car.

  He was out of bullets by the time he saw the guard with the shotgun appear in front of the car.

  Abbott turned too slowly to see the guard and his suicidal stunt, but heard the report of the shotgun and the wet smack as the shells pierced the shatt
ered windscreen and hit Sylvia full in the face.

  Blood erupted from her head and sprayed over Abbott and Hammett. The car bucked as it hit the guard, fragile flesh and bone no match for the speeding metal box.

  Sylvia’s foot was a dead weight on the gas pedal as the car shot towards the roadblock.

  Before Duggan registered what had happened, Jake dragged Mark off to the left, away from the gunman.

  Zeke quickly pulled something from his pocket. He held his left arm in front of his face like it was a talisman, pulling his right back fast and letting go.

  The guard’s gun didn’t fire. There was the sound of glass breaking, then a sickly sound like something hitting a piece of meat.

  Duggan saw the gun tumble from the guard’s hands, saw the hands come up to the right side of his mask.

  Then he pulled the mask off.

  His right eye was a bleeding mess, surrounded by jagged shards of light.

  In horrid slow motion the half-blind guard screamed and lurched forward, his hand still cupping his eye.

  Zeke drew his right hand back again and let go. There was a metallic clank from behind the guard.

  It suddenly made sense to Duggan – Zeke had a slingshot and he was firing ball bearings at the gunman.

  One of the ball bearings had smashed the eyehole in the guard’s mask and put his right eye out.

  The guard’s attention was all on Zeke now, as he stumbled forward, a knife in his hand.

  He failed to see the small lip at the end of the metal walkway, as his hands were still clamped to his punctured right eye. A thick jelly oozed between his fingers.

  There was nothing Zeke or Duggan could do but watch in horror as the guard tripped over the edge and landed on the plank, snapping it with his weight.

  Zeke and Duggan cried out in alarm – and at the unfairness of it all – then Duggan began to fall.

  Though Hammett and Abbott braced themselves for the impact, it still jolted them, made their teeth rattle and their brains shake in their skulls.

  It was a few seconds before they realised that the vehicle was still moving.

  While the world spun, they dimly made out the sound of more guns being fired.

  Made out the loud explosion of air as bullets tore into tyres.