Lazarus

by Willcocks, Daniel

  David exhaled and took long sips of his pinot. It was almost as if it were just another day in paradise. David, the sun, and some of Italy’s finest.

  *

  “Beth!” David hissed. “Beth. Get the camera.” David couldn’t believe his luck. Just out of sight, blending with the shadows of the trees, he could see its shape. Four legs, a sturdy body, and antlers twice the width of its body on either side.

  He heard Beth tut and run.

  David had heard rumours of a great buck over the years. Chinese whispers from friends of a majestic deer that roamed in the forests that bordered parts of Durham. Had heard that it had been occasionally sighted wandering through the Durham streets at night. But the creature was so quick that only blurry photos and sketchy local news showed any glimpses of the thing.

  He couldn’t say for sure, but his gut told him that it was here. Warily clinging to the shade as it sniffed toward David’s trough.

  If only he had that goddamned camera…

  “Beth!”

  “Oh, I’m coming!” Beth shouted, far too loudly.

  Movement in the trees. The head raised. A moment later, the buck sprang away.

  Beth eventually emerged from the house no quieter than a stampede worthy of the Savannah. David looked longingly out into the trees and rubbed his eyes. Almas trotted up alongside Beth who threw the camera in David’s lap, rolled her eyes, and left to rejoin her sister in the kitchen.

  Almas barked excitedly.

  That bloody dog.

  David relaxed in the chair, held the bottle in his hand and resisted the urge to lob something at Beth or the panting Maltese.

  Was it too much to ask that his wife indulge his passions? Was it too much to ask that Beth could hand a camera without sounding like a herd of elephants walking over bubblewrap? The buck had been so close to bringing itself into the light, and then David would have known once and for all. There were few things that David placed value on in life these days, but photography, and proving to Ken Brunswick that the buck existed was pretty high on that list.

  Maybe he’ll come back. If he liked the scent of the pellets, maybe he’ll come back. He can’t have gone far.

  Though David knew that that wasn’t true, he drank some more. With bitter thoughts and a fresh imprint of the buck in his head.

  *

  David was drifting on the edge of sleep when he heard the twig snap. He opened his blurry eyes and there it was! The glorious beast was back, this time fully exposed in the sunlight – and it was breathtaking. Standing close to seven feet high, with golden fur blotted in spots of white, with antlers looked to have been carved and lacquered by a keen craftsman, the buck bent low and scooped a mouthful of food into its mouth.

  And – the best part was – the creature wasn’t alone.

  On either side of the majestic creature was a doe. Both paled in comparison to their escort, but the sight was beautiful. David wondered whether the buck had brought them with him for protection, or whether it was a mating thing. He didn’t know too much of animals, but he figured that at some point later that day, this buck was going to get lucky.

  David raised his camera, as steadily as he could, terrified to make any sudden moves or noise, desperate to grab a shot before the group spooked and fled. He checked the flash was off.

  Through the camera lens, he could zoom in as much as he wanted, ensuring crystal quality. He could see each individual, stubby hair on the coat. Could catch the rainbow colours as the sun shone across them. He even zoomed in close enough to see the amber ring around the buck’s pupil. The honey colour filling his vision.

  Click. A perfect shot.

  “Beth. Beth!” he whispered, waving through the open door. “Come see. It’s here. It’s here!”

  Beth rolled her eyes and stood, the chair squeaking across the floor. David looked back and saw the buck freeze, it’s ears raised.

  David brought a finger to his mouth. Shh.

  Both Karen and Beth came to the door and stared in wide-eyed adoration of the sight in front.

  “It’s beautiful,” Karen whispered to Beth.

  David took another snap.

  Then, two things happened in quick succession. Later, David wouldn’t be able to remember which one caused him to drop his camera first, shattering the lens on the varnished wood.

  The first was a gunshot. The sound ripping the silence apart. The report echoed so loudly that Almas erupted into a fit of yapping and growling. Beth and Karen smothered screams. David clapped his hands to his ears and looked wildly about for the source of the noise. It seemed to have come from directly above them. David caught Beth’s eye in a quick what-the-fuck look.

  Then Karen screamed and pointed.

  David followed the line of her arm towards the deer. He stood up, not quite believing what he was seeing. Unable to process the growling sounds and the slurping in front of him.

  All thoughts of the camera faded. The buck was now on the floor. Dead. A young boy with dark lined tattoos tearing into its abdomen. Where the does were now, he did not know.

  35

  It was quicker than Kurt thought it would be. Pull the trigger, hear the sound, watch the brain matter paint the walls. Chunks of tissue clotting and crawling as the goo dripped.

  He looked at the smoking gun, then back to the hole in Sabrina’s forehead.

  And began to cry.

  A tinnitus-whine lingered in his ears. He couldn’t even hear his own sobs. He just fell to his knees and waited. Waited for David to run upstairs and see what had happened. Waited for Karen to scream. Waited for Beth to see the mess and kick Kurt out of the house. There was no point calling the cops on a thirteen-year-old kid. For all they knew, Sabrina had been the last one.

  Oh, I’m afraid that’s all we had time for this week. Join us next time where Kurt kicks a dog in the face and calls Beth a bitch. How’s that for hospitality, folks?

  Instead, only one of those things happened, followed by something strange.

  He heard Karen scream, loud and clear. Though, there was something else. Kurt screwed his eyes shut tight, doing his best to stem his tears, the whining a pitch beyond description. And a voice. Kurt heard a voice. Clear. Crystal. Amy’s. It seemed to say ‘be strong, Kurt. Be strong.’

  I will.

  Kurt took a deep breath and pawed at his eyes. After a few seconds, the whining tone began to dial back its volume. Almas’ barks sounded through the window. Kurt looked at the door through a fuzzy screen of tears expecting to see his hosts stood in the doorway, paralysed in shock. Or maybe Karen hovering, mouth agape, no words to cry.

  But they weren’t there.

  It was then that he heard the commotion downstairs. He leaned across the corpse of Sabrina and looked out the window. Shit, shit, shit! The feral dipped its head in and out of… was that a deer?

  Idiot, Kurt scolded. Another feral drawn by a gunshot. What were you thinking?

  He only had a moment to make a decision. Soon after he would look back and think that perhaps he had chosen poorly, but in that moment only one thought came to him. It was simple. It was quick. And, if his gut was anything to go by, it was the right one.

  Run, Kurt. Ruuun.

  Kurt fled into the hallway, whipping wildly about for any sign of movement. He padded past Steve’s room and heard the bed creak. A low cough. A weak call of, ‘What the hell is happening out there?’

  Instinct made Kurt bring the gun up and point it at his adopted father’s door. He immediately lowered it again, feeling himself grow warm with shame. Is that what it has come to? Is that the kind of man I’m becoming?

  In a flash of self-loathing, Kurt threw the gun across the hall. Maybe that was a stupid move. Maybe where he was going he might need a little protection to help him out in a jam. But he would worry about that later. What kind of kid points a gun at the person who’d been nothing but kind and generous to them for the last half a year?

  He heard Steve walking across the room. Kurt powered hi
mself down the stairs and ran for the front door. He didn’t even spare a glance behind him. He could hear them all in the garden, though. David, Karen, Beth. Shouts and panics as David called for his own gun. Maybe he heard Karen calling after him. Maybe he didn’t. What did it matter anyway now?

  An image of Karen walking upstairs and finding Sabrina on the bed brought a fresh flood of tears.

  Kurt reached the road. A part of him told him to go back. They’d understand. They’re adults. They would know what to do.

  But he couldn’t. It was as if his body had the resolve his mind didn’t. He lowered his head, kicked at the tarmac of the road and simply ran until he disappeared into the woods, leaving the house and their crying behind until the trees had fully swallowed him up.

  *

  Kurt ran until his legs hurt and his lungs ached. He flew down unfamiliar streets, hopped fences, navigated through trees until he couldn’t run anymore. Though blessed with the natural stamina that young teens possess, biology dictated that a rest was due. He slowed from a run to a jog, to a walk, until he found a small clearing amongst the trees.

  He sat with his back against a trunk and put his concentration on breathing. Partly because he needed to, partly because he thought that if he allowed himself to think about what he’d just done he might be tempted to run back.

  He looked up at the sky in an effort to gauge his direction. With the setting sun to his left, he knew that he’d be headed north. Miss Gilligan, his geography teacher, had taught the class about orientation and magnetic fields, finishing with a brief overview on how to find your way without a compass

  At the time Kurt had wondered when, in a modern world, anyone would ever find themselves in that position. GPS, 4G, it was a modern man’s way. How would they ever find themselves in a scenario where power was down and internet failed?

  Miss Gilligan’s voice rang through his mind. “And what if your phone battery dies, smarty-pants?”

  Boy was he glad he paid attention.

  A small chuckle escaped Kurt’s lips at the thought of something so… normal. A couple days ago his problems had been worrying about getting an A on his math test, and thinking about Emily across the classroom, hoping that no one would notice him staring, hazy-eyed at her rosy lips.

  Kurt closed his eyes and could almost feel her kiss.

  When he opened his eyes there lingered the image of Emily, smiling. Happy and healthy and waiting for Kurt to accompany her to the bleachers. Kurt’s heart fluttered, before the image fast forwarded. His heart dropped, as did Emily. And there she was, a whole family of ferals fine-dining on her innards.

  He picked up his feet and continued on. As long as he was moving, that meant he wasn’t thinking about the ferals, or the blood, or Sabrina’s face as she snatched the gun out of the catatonic Kurt’s hands and shot herself below the chin.

  Where to now? Well, Kurt already knew the answer to that question. The only problem being, without a map how the hell was he supposed to get to Fort Wayne? How far away even was Fort Wayne? And how big? How was he going to get anywhere without a car, or a bus, or a train?

  “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” he cried, clenching his fists, fighting the urge to punch a tree. A sudden dawning realisation crept over him as he looked between the boughs of the trees, the sun beginning to make its way to the horizon. He was alone. Something that he had often craved along the journey. A chance to be free and to pursue his own path without interference of adult supervision.

  And it was terrifying.

  Dear lord… what have I done?

  Part 4

  No Way Back

  36

  It was near dark by the time Kurt finally stopped for a rest. In front, over a small stone wall, was a rising bank that led up to a road. He doubled over, lowered himself to the floor, and heard the leaves crunch beneath his body. Every part of him was hurting. A short while ago he had found a small stream and washed his hands until they had turned numb. He felt his heavy eyes wanting to close, and for his mind to shut off into sleep. But he knew that was a stupid move.

  Not yet. Just a little further.

  Something moved in the forest behind him. Kurt snapped his neck around and saw a squirrel dashing through the leaven floor. At least the animals that he had encountered all seemed normal. From what Kurt had seen travelling through the trees, navigating around the odd houses, giving as much a wide berth as possible for fear that perhaps a feral may have found themselves trapped inside, the animals continued their day-to-day lives as though nothing exceptional had happened. Perhaps the mist only had an effect on humans.

  Thank God for small victories.

  But that didn’t stop Kurt’s heart from thumping as he scanned the trees, being doubly careful not to overlook anything. A couple miles back Kurt had tripped over a hidden root and gone sprawling on the floor, a loud cry escaping his mouth. He had sat, nursing his grazed knee – sharp breaths through gritted teeth – when he had heard someone walking nearby. The rustling of leaves beneath feet and the telltale growl of the feral.

  That had been enough to put all pain behind him and to get up and run another stretch as fast as he could. Still, though. Every time he had slowed, he thought he could see the damn thing, bordering on the edge of vision. As it grew dark the sounds had seemed to come closer and closer, but whether it was simply his imagination, or the feral truly existed, it only ever teased Kurt, providing a constant reminder that he needed to keep moving. He wasn’t safe yet. He doubted if he’d ever be safe again.

  Kurt hopped over the wall and crawled up the bank until he could see as much as possible while remaining hidden. He didn’t know it, but he was staring at the early stretches of road that led to Interstate 85. A long stretch of carriageway that had been the main traffic flow for those headed north-west of Durham. Commuters, holiday-goers – they all took that long stretch of tarmac.

  Kurt, however, would know none of this. To him, the road was just another length of abandoned passageway leading to an unknown destination. He reached a hand forward, feeling the residual heat captured in the tarmac’s surface from the setting sun, completely unaware of how, just a few days ago, this road would have been alive with traffic. Horns beeping, men and women loosening ties, music cranked to the max. ‘Yeah boy! Thank God it’s quitting time!’

  Kurt looked left and right and was about to lift himself onto his feet when he saw movement across the road. Along the far edge, beneath the conical beam of a streetlamp, Kurt saw two figures huddled so tightly together that their bodies seemed to merge. They looked almost like two teenage boys, doing their best to hide the pages of a porno mag as they flicked through to the juicy parts in the middle.

  Kurt studied the figures with interest. From where he was he could only make out their outline. He wondered what it was they were doing. If, perhaps, they were friendly. The only people he had seen since the ferry were the group that he had left behind. Could it be beyond reason to believe that there were others that had made it too? Kurt wondered what a journey would be like with the help of people his own age. They could swap stories. They could have each others’ backs.

  All thoughts dissipated as one of the figures grunted and smacked the other in the face. They dropped the thing they were holding, and it was to Kurt’s horror that he watched the arm drop to the floor. The face of the golden wristwatch reflecting the amber glow of the lamp.

  It was a feral boy and a girl, he presumed. It seemed the girl feral was the dominant one here, and she scooped up the arm from the floor and began chomping again. The boy closed the gap and reached for the limb. They growled at each other, lashing arms to whack the other before deciding finally to share the object in their hands.

  Though the sight was horrific to behold, Kurt couldn’t help but watch. Something was different about these two. Over the last few days, all he had ever known was the charging, angered feral. The type that leapt and gnashed and wouldn’t stop until the thing they were hunting was dead. But these seem
ed calmer than the others that Kurt had seen. Nothing more than base animals hungering after their instincts.

  Kurt scratched his head.

  Did this mean that there was a cooling down period to the anger? Were ferals capable of calming? Maybe even reverting back after the toxins wore off? With enough time, could they—

  No, he commanded himself. If that were true, then that meant that Sabrina—

  Sabrina was different. Sabrina had been bitten…

  He stopped thinking, forcing himself to focus on the couple in front. They finished their morsel and lowered their arms. The girl swayed awhile as she stared blankly at something in the distance. The male circled the girl a couple times, his jaw opening and snapping like wind-up teeth in slow motion. It almost looked as though he was sniffing the girl, lining up to bite his companion (if he could even call her that), until he turned his back to Kurt and began to walk out of the light. The girl instinctually followed.

  Until Kurt sneezed.

  It came out of nowhere, as sneezes do, and clapping his hands to his face only made the sound louder. The feral’s heads twisted around as if whipped by elastic. The male took a few quick steps back into the light. He raised his nose and sniffed again, determining where the sound had come from. By the way he was looking in all directions it seemed almost as if he were shortsighted, or maybe even blind. As though his sense of smell could help direct him in the way of sound.

  Kurt slid backwards until they fell from sight and tensed his body. He could hear them, low grumbles and footsteps, but they didn’t come any closer. He peeked back over the top and saw them now punching and clawing each other, all snarls and teeth.