Project Lazarus (29 page)

“I killed you.  I can do it again,” he roared.

“I know the dead from hell are killing the living and those from heaven but I’m about to turn the tables.”

In slow motion, she did the impossible.  She used every bit of power and invisible help she had received by the grace of the Lord.  Vengeance was indeed his.  She wished she had learnt this long ago.

It is only by the grace of God we can defeat our enemies.  It is only when we trust in him, walk beside him and know he rights every wrong do we truly know him and see him.

For Miranda Winters, Father Flannery’s life would be spared that day.  She would spare it.  Yet, he would know upon seeing the dead body of Jim Datchel, the body that couldn’t be raised again, that with only God could she have done such a thing.

Jim Datchel lay dead on the floor.  Miranda Winter’s moved slowly and methodically like a trained warrior with thousands of angels to back her up to achieve his lifeless body.  It was a miracle of God.

The strange, the uninvited, the unknown had come to Cotter.

Miranda Winters left Father Flannery to awake to the miracle in the church.

She had other work to do.

Cotter had entered a new phase.  God had arrived in Cotter.  Now the battle would begin and now it would end.

Even though, the outcome of free will determined man would fulfill the destiny of Cotter, God would be watching and making judgment on the living and the dead.

Dr. Woods and his assistant Grace had left the medical facility two days ago.  They were on the run.  The living dead cornered them everywhere.  In the heart of town, there was a stark new reality.  On the outside, there was a bitter fight for supplies in Cotter.

For several weeks now, the good citizens of Cotter remained behind closed doors.  They did as they were told by authorities.  But they were running out of supplies. Food, water, matches, batteries for flashlights, the little necessities one takes for granted on a daily basis were now obsolete with no hope of more supplies being delivered into Cotter.

Dr. Woods and Grace were on a mission to find the Chuttle house.  Word had gotten to him about the two boys seeing the first man raised from the dead and he was hopeful they might hold the key to putting the dead back where they belonged.  Science failed him.  He was optimistic about reality.  That meant real people.  The kind of people he tried to avoid.  More of a book study than a cover of a book study, he spent his days on the sidelines, wondering how the other half lived then deciding he preferred his way regardless of the answers.

When they reached the town, it was a visual nightmare.  The stoplights, the new ones that were recently installed with the sleek infrared LED bullet video cameras, discreetly in the middle of the night blinked red, green and yellow all at once.  Yes, the living dead weren’t the only ones infringing on Cotter that summer.  There was a new kind of threat lurking.  One that seemed rather trivial now.  Those in control always long to keep their control.  At the time of the incident, Cotter wasn’t on the list of cities or towns where camera’s played second to police officers in giving tickets to those choosing to run a red light in the middle of the night.  So, why the camera’s?  The local papers didn’t talk about it.  The people didn’t talk about either.  Most folks chattered behind closed doors. 

“Careful what you’re saying in town.  They’ve got those cameras watching the cars but they’ve got a second set of camera’s watching and listening to the people on the street.”

“Terrorism….maybe.”

“Big brother….maybe.”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“Me neither but it creeps me out.”

“Didn’t you notice the camera’s by the grocery store light outside of town?  You can’t even avoid them now by getting on the freeway.  I think they’re more interested in who’s coming into the town than going out of it.”

“Better not get caught doing anything you shouldn’t be.”

“You shouldn’t care if you aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“Still creepy.”

Such was the talk.  Behind doors. Pretty much the same.

Dr. Woods approached the intersection.  He took one look at the camera and wondered who, if anyone was watching now.

Grace, upon seeing the bodies displayed out like matchsticks, dominoes or some deranged scene, lost her mind and ran.

Dr. Woods yelled, “Grace.”  He ran after the girl.  But it was no use.  The trauma set in.  The paranoia, that invisible force, with a power all its own, had taken her over.  He could see it in her eyes.

Briefly, she stopped, took one look back at him.

For a moment he held hope.  Did he have her trust?  Enough to save her?

It was but a dream.

Grace, if diagnosed properly had suffered a nervous breakdown coupled with post-traumatic stress and shock.  At the moment the paranoia set in, she trusted no one.  So, she ran.

Dr. Woods kept running, calling after her, hoping to find her, help her. 

It wasn’t long before he ran out of breath.  Then he ran out of hope.  The doctor that held so many lives in his hands, crumpled to the ground.  Bodies torn apart, strewn all about him, it was a bloody mess. 

He put his head in his hands and cried.  His glasses fell off with the tears and he cried and cried until his gut wrenched.  It was a moment in which total silence enshrouded the scene.

He cried for Grace.  He cried for himself.  He cried for what the world had become.  If this was the end of it- it was more than anyone could bear.  It lived up to any Biblical Revelation.  It was horrifying and he felt helpless.

There in his misery and denial of hope, the yelling, like a tidal wave of vibration that is noise, finally reached his years.

People were on the street, running back and forth, fighting with each other.  They were grabbing at one another.  They were grabbing at the supplies in each other’s hands.

Cotter was running out of time.  But still, there was a will to survive and now it became a fight for survival.

When the cupboards went bare and people decided against better judgment to leave their homes, they took to looting.  The stores were running bare.  It was a non-peppers worst nightmare.  Prepper’s, for those uneducated fools, were people preparing for a worst case scenario in the world.  Right about now, they sat somewhere safely tucked away with their shotguns and tuna. While the very people that laughed at them ran around to find only empty stores and angry humans, they had the last word.

“Give me that can.  I need it,” cried one woman.

“I’ve got three kids,” screamed the man.

“I’ve got a baby.  I need those beans.”

The man and woman fought over the beans for several minutes before the tugging match turned into a full on fight.  The petite blonde knew martial arts and gave the tall dark haired man an elbow to the chin, a well calculated kick and finished him off with a web strike.  That particular move to the neck killed him.  In all legal terms, it was illegal what she did.  That strike was as good as pulling a gun on an innocent man.  But in her mind, it was survival.  And it was him or her.

She ran away, upon seeing Dr. Woods, disgusted with herself but more afraid she would kill again.

Dr. Woods stared in disbelief.  Science could dissect everything but never the human heart nor the human mind.  It was his conclusion, if the living dead didn’t kill the living, the living would most certainly kill each other.

He wandered the streets, it was several blocks to the Chuttle home and he knew it was dangerous.  He contemplated hiding out.  He was attacked several times but when people realized he didn’t even have water and sounded half delirious he seemed to develop an invisible bubble of protection.  He was so desperate looking no one came near.

He collapsed on the Chuttle doorsteps.

When he came to, he was being administered water very slowly by Mrs. Chuttle.

She held a rag near his mouth and dripped the water slowly.

“Dr. Woods,” she said, “can you hear me Dr. Woods?”

He was too weak to answer.  She knew him.  A wave of relief washed over him.  The nightmare outside felt distant.  The safety of the Chuttle home felt real.

She continued dripping the water, drop by drop.

The moment he revived, he sat up and explained why he was there to the parents.

“I must see Ivan and Gilbert.  I think they’re the key to this whole thing.”

“Sure,” Mrs. Chuttle agreed, “but you should know we almost lost Gilbert.”

“What do you mean lost him?”

“He almost died,” Mrs. Chuttle revealed.

She and Mr. Chuttle exchanged glances, remembering the vow they made to the boys to keep their powers secret.

“Wait here.  I’ll go get them,” she agreed.

She went upstairs only to return pale faced and frantic.

Mr. Chuttle and Dr. Woods looked at the woman, clearly upset beyond normal means.

“What happened?  What’s wrong?” Mr. Chuttle asked.

“I looked everywhere,” she said, running her hands through her hair, terrified, wracked with grief.

The two men waited.  Dr. Wood’s eyes widened.

“They’re gone,” she announced.

“Damn you Woods,” yelled Mr. Chuttle, “why did you have to come here?  Why can’t you people leave us alone?”

Mrs. Woods collapsed to the ground.

“They knew.  They knew you were coming.  They’re gone.  They’re trying to save themselves.”

Dr. Woods looked in disbelief and searched the house.  Mr. Chuttle fought him off from room to room.  But both men wouldn’t get what they wanted.

Dr. Woods couldn’t get the help he needed from the boys.

Mr. Chuttle had lost his sons and his ability to protect them forever.

Ivan and Gilbert Chuttle were on the run and they weren’t coming back.

Natalie Winston, now posing as Calista Grandy, jerked along Gardenia Hall, the willing prisoner.  She was passing military now and yanked the arm of the girl again.  It was a performance she had to pull off, so neither would be discovered.

“Move it,” she said roughly to Gardenia.

The two young women gave each other a knowing look.  There was no room for error.  One wrong move, one wrong look and they were found out- caught, dead for certain.

There was an eerie quiet that fell over them, as they marched through the ground floor.  They were two lonely souls searching for something, both wondering if they would find it.

Natalie decided it would be better to head upstairs.  She was going after Millicent.  The danger associated with pursuing Charlie Dempster weighed heavily on her mind after her talk with the real Calista Grandy.

Gardenia could feel the  presence of the Amazon man.  It wasn’t an evil presence.  But in a bold move, she too, decided it was not the smart move.  She would search for Travis Hilfin instead.  She needed to help him get to the other side before it was too late.  Too late.  Yes, indeed, he was more important to her than anything in the world.  She was only fooling herself.  While here powers were deep, their bond was stronger and her only desire was his well-being, not the secrets of the Amazon man or Project Lazarus.  She would find Travis, if she could escape first.

Their feet clapped against the tile floors, surprisingly sparkling clean, as both girls studied every room, every window, every corridor for escape or answers, whichever the fates deemed necessary.

“You can trust me,” Gardenia muttered under her breath.

“Do I have a choice?” Natalie retorted.

“You’re scared,” she observed, “don’t be…I have put a safety circle around you.”

“How about a bullet proof vest?”

“You don’t believe, after everything you and I are about to see…”

“I believe but I don’t like surprises.”

They turned the corner and Natalie stopped the girl attached to her arm as prisoner abruptly. She peered both ways to make sure there were no eyes on them.

“Go,” she whispered.

“It’s not part of the plan,” Gardenia retorted.

“Screw the plan,” Natalie told her, “besides I know you can take care of yourself.”

Gardenia nodded.  The reporter did understand her.  “I can,” she assured her.

Natalie let go of her arm, reluctantly, she would be walking in now empty handed and alone.

“Thank you,” Gardenia told her, tears welling in her eyes.

Natalie saw the emotion behind her and knew, reporters instincts, “You’re here for Travis.”

Gardenia nodded.

“Thank God.  I listened to everything Calista told us and I’m planning based on the facts.”

“You’re not headed after Charlie?”

She nervously smiled in return, “Millicent.  She’s on the top floor.”

Gardenia smiled approvingly, “She’s the key.  Good luck my friend.  I hope we both find what we need in this life.”

Gardenia Hall scurried down the corridor and stopped suddenly and turned back to Natalie, who watched her fade away.

She mouthed goodbye and Natalie simply lowered her eyes.  She had been saying goodbye all her life.  She didn’t want to this time.  Her life and Gardenia’s life were both on the line. Goodbye seemed final and finality was something she didn’t want this time.  In her odd assessment, both women needed a happy ending.

Gardenia was like magic and mystic all rolled into one and like a smoky vapor she disappeared into the stairwell and headed where Gardenia might never know.

Natalie Winston stood in the cold hallway.  She waited to find Grady Freshman.  Had she lost her chance?

She kept her head low and kept her feet moving.  She gasped when she heard the gunshot, it stopped her dead in her tracks.  She had a running thought fate had dealt Gardenia, an intruder like herself, a bad hand.

Military boots came clapping down the hallway fast now and she spun around to meet them, so she would get buried in the crowd.

There was a lot of dismay, plenty of whispering and screaming questions, to the extent she quickly learned, the group heading straight for her was now immersed in the chaos.

The gunshot was a surprise.

A tall lanky man approached her from the left side.  Her Krav Maga self-defense course kicked in. Should she elbow him into the side or do a quick upper cut to hit his chin. Who was she kidding she couldn’t start performing self-defense against and among her own.  She slowed her gait waiting out the stranger.  He slowed too.

He grabbed her wrist.  She gasped.

He pulled her aside the wall, as the others rushed by, with such force she could barely keep on her feet.

Her eyes met his and then the name tag on his uniform. Grady Freshman.

She was stunned.

“Natalie?”

“Man you aren’t short on dramatics.   I know this should be some kind of introduction but you scared the hell out of me.”

“Good,” he answered, studying her up and down quickly, “you’re a fast study and you can pass for her but Calista always walks faster.  Always.”

Natalie studied him, as she watched the crowd disappear around the corner, “Shouldn’t we catch up?  The gunshots?”

“That was my once chance at a distraction.”

“You did that?  For me?”

“For her.  Calista Grandy was the best and I consider her a friend.  I would do anything for her.  You, I don’t know and as for me the plans have changed.”

“What do you mean?  Calista said you would protect me?”

“I just did.  If that Colonel had run into that private talk you and the long dark haired girl were having you would be dead.  Calista was having an affair with him.  You can pass.  But you ain’t no Calista.   Now you’re just dead weight.  I’ve got to cut you loose.”

“At least your honest,” Natalie shook her head in disappointment.

“It’s a matter of survival reporter girl.”

“Fine, I get it.”

“Where do you want to go?” He asked.

“Millicent.”

“Upstairs.”

“I know.”

“I don’t have time to give you the tour,” he snarled.

“Okay, it’s a mess.  I see it’s a mess.  But I knew what I was getting into.  Fine then, I’ll go it alone.”

Grady knew he had a serious contender on his hands, “Here,” he offered.

She reached out her hand and he placed the shiny object in her hand.

“You’re gonna need a key.”

Natalie smiled.  It was a win.

“I like you reporter girl.  When the shit hits and it will hit, I’ll try to get you out of here.”

He handed her a whistle.

Natalie recognized it instantly.  It was a high pitched dog whistle.

“But only dogs…”

“Some of us have extra sensory hearing, little talents my friend.  Use it.”

“Thanks for saving my paper and pen.”

“Mightier than the sword,” he smiled, “only if you’re alive.  So let’s keep it that way.”

With his warning, they parted ways.

Natalie watched another potential ally disappear down the corridors and now she knew what it was like to be all alone.  The journey into Cotter had been terrifying and desolate but this was a solo act.  Every friend in this building was now a potential target, enemy or worse.  Help was never really there when you needed it.

She pondered the affair of  the Colonel and Calista for a minute.   People liked drama and chaos.  Perhaps, the Amazon man was no different.  Maybe he resurrected the dead to for chaos.  No, not likely.

Millicent Dempster would have an answer.  Maybe.  If there was an answer.

She pulled the crude drawing of a map scrawled by Calista out of her pocket.  The drawing proved difficult to read but she hoped from her deduction she was only twenty paces from the stairwell.

The stairwell would lead her upstairs and to the room where they kept Millicent.

It was clear if Millicent was on the second floor, she was separated from Charlie.  She was probably the object of a hostage situation.  Charlie Dempster was a mystery.  Why would he put himself and his wife through all this?  What did have to do with the Amazon man?

She walked quickly, taking the advice of Grady.  He was a strange and scared fellow but crafty enough to still use a diversionary tactic to save her life.  He was loyal to the core to his friend Calista and kind to a stranger who now held the key to Millicent’s life in her hands.

Twenty paces.  Nineteen.  Eighteen.  She counted.

There it was.  The stairwell.  Natalie couldn’t believe her luck. 

She smiled and bounded up the steps with a burst of energy she hadn’t felt in years.

She reached the landing and her heart skipped a beat.

The mystery of Millicent wasn’t far off.  She could see in the first open room to her left, a gray haired woman, handcuffed to a metal chair, who somehow managed to bury her head in her hands.

Natalie felt like a child sneaking downstairs to watch and wait for Santa Claus.  Grady’s plan was certainly effective.  There was no one there to intrude on the scene.

The woman in the room lifted her head up.  Her eyes were red and swollen.  She appeared tired and fatigued.  It was clearly Millicent Dempster who now noticed the stranger.

Alarmingly, she knew, as Natalie was bound to discover, she didn’t fit in that well.

“Help me,” she mouthed, as their eyes connected, tears streaming down on her face.

“Help me please.”

Natalie put her finger to her mouth to silence the woman.