Project Lazarus (15 page)

The living dead from hell were coming for the living and they weren’t wasting any time.

“I’m not one of them,” Jared Sutter, whispered to the guard.  He was stuck in Prison 8.  His cellmates included two living dead from hell.  He was careful.  He didn’t dare let them hear his words to the guard.

The burly guard, a kid nearly 25 from the civil air patrol wanting to go into the military, shook his head.

“Heard it before,” he said bluntly.

Jared motioned him over.

The guard reluctantly approached.

“No funny stuff,” the guard warned.

The other two cellmates from hell were circling now.  The guard watched their every move, ready for an attack.  The stories about the living dead from hell attacking guards were on the rise.

Prison 8 and the guard were in the dark about the previous night’s 13 prison breaks.  That guard would never have taken the chance.  He was about to be warned by superiors but for the moment he followed his intuition and that told him Jared was a good guy.

“This is a mistake.  The cops put me in here by accident.  These two are gonna figure it out soon.  Then, they’ll kill me.  You gotta get me out of here,” he whispered so quietly, he could feel the suspicion of his two cellmates.

“Do you know how many times a prisoner has said that?” The guard asked.

“Yeah, I know they’re trying to fool you.  But look at me.  I’m telling you, they made a mistake.  I don’t belong here.”

“I’ve heard it all before,” the guard shrugged, “nothing I can do.  Prisoners are not released.  Following orders.”

“But you believe me?  I know you do.”

“Yeah, I guess.  There’s something about you that doesn’t ring with these weirdo’s.”

“Then in all conscience you’ve got to let me out,” Jared Sutter pleaded.

“Can’t do it man.”

“Please my name is Jared Sutter,” he told him his name and tried to identify with him.

“Sorry,” the guard shrugged.

“What the heck am I goanna do in here?” Panic was spreading in his voice and down his body.  He began to tremble.

The two cellmates saw the twitching as a weakness.  They snuck in for a closer look.

“Blend.  You better blend man,” the guard said.

“Hey guard.  Why don’t you open this cell up?”  Asked the first man sporting a wrinkled face, crinkled nose and blazing eyes.  He was straight from hell alright.

“Yeah, open it up.  Let’s see what you got,” Jared chimed in.

The guard knew Jared was telling the truth.  Like a caged animal, he blended fast- chameleon like. 

“Don’t think so,” the guard answered.

“No big deal.  They’ll be coming for us soon.”

“We’ll talk then,” the guard mused.

“No,” the second living dead from hell told the guard, “We’re gonna tear you apart.”

“Limb from limb,” Jared explained.   Fear ran through his veins but being a motivational speaker to large corporate groups, he reasoned long ago, fear had no place in life.  You could either sink or swim.  Jared was swimming.  So far, the two from hell thought he was one of them.  He was going to keep it that way.

“Shut up!” The guard roared back, to help sell Jared’s story.

The guard would speak to his superior’s soon and plead Jared’s case.  He had gotten a few out successfully in the past week.  Unfortunately, some people were rounded up in panic and got caught in the shuffle and thrown into jail but the guard had yet to see one with two cellmates from hell.  Jared Sutter was in a dangerous position.

“You’re gonna learn this is a thankless job,” the one toyed mercilessly with the guard, “Don’t you know?  They don’t care what happens to you.  I’m giving you one chance chump.  Let us out now and we won’t kill you.”

“You’ll kill me alright,” the guard challenged.

“Have it your way,” the one answered.

“Don’t you know?” Asked the other.

“Know what?” The guard asked back.

“All hell broke loose in 13 prisons last night.”

The guard’s eyes widened.  Why was he hearing this from the man from hell?  Why hadn’t his superiors told him?

“That’s right tough guy.  They’re coming for us and we’re coming for you.”

“Shut up,” the guard yelled back and shot a look to Jared, who appeared more terrified than him.

He walked away from the cell, muttering to himself, “Damn you all to hell.”

The two cellmates laughed wildly.  Jared joined in on the celebration, laughing with them.  What else could he do?  Within the next five minutes, he studied their body language, their tone of voice, their demeanor and took mental notes.  He would copy their every mannerism.  It was a matter of survival.

When they sat on the ground in a trance like state communicating with each other and other living dead from hell, Jared did the same.  This weird ritual went on for an hour or so.  Then they paced the cell like wild animals, clawing at the bars.  Jared, eyes low to the ground, paced too.

A few hours went by.  It was more of the same.  Trance time, pacing and screaming.

“I want back to hell,” the first screamed.

“Hell, take me back now,” Jared screamed louder.

“Where’s the fire?  Where’s the fire?  Help me,” yelled the third.

Jared Sutter was winging it.  He had no idea what hell was about.  He sure didn’t want to find out anytime soon or ever.  That’s why he read the Bible every morning, it was a ritual since childhood.

Sweat was pouring down his face.  It was a challenging moment.  If anyone ever asked if he believed in God, the answer was yes.  But now, he was a hypocrite.  He thought about packing it in, telling the truth.  Mentioning the name of God.  What would these two nuts do?  They were so scary he couldn’t bring himself to rely on his faith.  Would God punish him for denying God or pity him for trying to survive.  Surely, God would understand.  This was an unbelievable situation.  He couldn’t be judged on this.  Could he?

Jared’s momentary faith went in another direction.  Survival.  His faith in God was deeply rooted in survival.  While they were in a trance, he prayed.

The first one got up and walked over to him, shackles around his feet, Jared stared at them, wondering if they could keep him down.  He wasn’t sure.

“What you doing?” Asked the first.

“Images of hell,” Jared stammered.

Did he know Jared was praying?

“Locking us up.  They should be worshipping us,” the first one exclaimed.

Jared tried not to look relieved.  But it was killing him.  He couldn’t keep up with them.  He was bound to stumble.  What would happen when these two figured out he was human?   Could they sense it?  Smell it?  What were they?  

He knew where they came from but that was all he knew about them.  He saw what they were capable of.  They would think nothing of torturing him.

He steadied his mind on his grandmother.  He was only six years old when a dog chased him all the way to her small cottage home in Cotter.

“Jared, any animal, even a dog, can sense fear.  Never run.  Don’t allow the fear to creep inside your mind.”

He had used that line in all his motivational books.  Build your mind like a fortress.  Never let the fear creep in.  Never let anything you don’t want to dwell there creep into the fortress of your mind.

He had to do the same now.  There was no time for fear.  He couldn’t even think it.

“Damn straight,” said the second, agreeing with the first.

“Can’t wait to kill that guard,” Jared told them.

“Five more on the floor beneath us,” the first one confided.

Jared nodded, as if he already received the information in the trance state.

Clearly the first wanted to play leader.  So, Jared let him and soaked up any information he provided.

“They’re coming soon,” said the first.

“When?” Demanded the second.

“Cool it,” the first warned, “building an army.  Yes they are.”

“Coming to get us soon?” Jared asked.

“Yeah.  Letting them settle a bit.  13 prison breaks last night.  Got hundreds now.  Need more to form the army.”

An army.  The living dead from hell were building an army with the sole intent to destroy the living.  Jared didn’t like this idea.  They had a lot of power on their own but united they might be unstoppable.

There was no escaping Cotter.   This much Jared knew.  He was caught and imprisoned while running barefoot with a group of people.  Probably what made him look so suspicious.  It was a foolish act.  But he wanted out of Cotter bad.

It was early in the morning a few days ago, when the chaos began for Jared.  He heard screaming and tumbled out of bed, peered out his small apartment window, when he saw the massacre in the apartment building next to his.  At that point, no one living knew what happened in the woods in Cotter.  The secret of the dead man being raised back to life was kept secret.  Jared, like the rest of his neighbors and friends, was clueless.  If there had only been an ounce of transparency, perhaps a few souls may have survived.

He was one of the lucky ones.  The bloody mess on that lawn and in the apartments had rendered them scared out of their wits.  For hours they searched, fruitlessly, stupidly, looking for a serial killer, a mass killer when the powers that be were keeping a terrible secret from them.

Jared thought about the power of secrets.  Sometimes their power was deadly.  He stared at the two from hell.  He wondered if they knew what he was thinking.  No, it was safe to think.  For now, anyways.

He pondered the disaster in Cotter.  What were they thinking running an experiment like that?  Raising a man from the dead?  He thought back to the Holy Bible, the only book he trusted with his life.  It was the only truth he knew.  It stopped him from becoming a drunk a few years back.  A drunk motivational speaker, he shook his head at the thought now.  How careless he was back then.  But then again, losing Amy, his wife of eleven years, to another man made him question everything in that Bible.  How could a loving God be so cruel to take away the only thing he ever loved more than life itself?

He stopped the tears that wanted to release from his eyes so naturally.  He grimaced at that image of his wife telling him the truth, of his beloved Amy leaving.