Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 1): The Spread Read online

  THE SPREAD

  Book 1 in the Lazarus Strain chronicles

  Sean Deville

  www.severedpress.com

  Copyright 2018 © Sean Deville

  In the arts of life man invents nothing; but in the arts of death he outdoes Nature herself, and produces by chemistry and machinery all the slaughter of plague, pestilence and famine.

  George Bernard Shaw

  Characters

  MI13

  Jeff Brazier

  Carl Brodie

  Colonel Nick Carter

  Sir Arthur Gant

  Sir Nicholas Osmond

  Natasha Sloane

  UK Civilians

  Andy Burns

  Reginald Clay

  Stuart Cole

  Jessica Dunn

  Peter Dunn

  Tom Dunn

  Colin Macready

  Brian Metcalf

  Dr Moneel Patel

  Superintendent Craig Soul

  UK Military

  Captain Stephen Haggard

  Colonel Wilson Smith

  Corporal Christopher Whittaker

  Gaia

  Azrael

  Gabriel

  Mother

  US Government

  David Campbell

  Paul Jones

  Julian Ryan

  Jessy Whitethorn

  Ref: FGu5244jyu

  Top Secret

  The Civil Contingencies Committee Command Structure Platinum

  Eyes Only

  WARNING

  Unauthorised reproduction/viewing/distribution of this document will result in prosecution under the Treason Act 1695 and may carry a penalty of Life Imprisonment under the Crime and Disorder Act 1998

  Confidential report on Pandemic Preparations Codename “White Horse”

  Report by the Confidential Pandemic Committee on plans for a high impact, low probability event: Codename “White Horse”.

  Ref: Ref: FGu5244jyu

  To Members of the Civil Contingencies Committee

  Summary

  Pursuant to Part 1 S(2) of the Civil Contingencies Act 2004, this is our analyses of the UK’s readiness for a hypothetical severe pandemic outbreak over the next five years.

  Statistical analyses of the flu strains that have developed over the last 20 years has shown a definite increase in the prevalence of new and dangerous variants outside those experienced in the yearly flu outbreak window cycle, designated “disease X” by the World Health Organisation. There is a definite increase in the rate of mutation of the various strains of the influenza virus, with a marked increase in lethality which poses a potential catastrophic time bomb for the country’s economy and population.

  Whilst to date these recent outbreaks have been managed and contained, last year’s reported occurrence in the Chinese city of Guyuan showed the dangers Influenza now poses to the human population. To summarise that event, only quarantine by the Chinese military stopped that particular mutated strain of the H2N9 virus from spreading. At last count, seventy-five thousand people were infected, with a mortality rate of 40%. Only imposition of Martial Law stopped the virus in its tracks which would presently be difficult to re-create under the UK democratic framework. Whilst the human rights abuses that reportedly resulted from the military quarantine were considered reprehensible by some, this committee is in agreement that those measures were justified.

  This report is to update the CCC on measures that will need to be taken if such a pathogen reaches our shores. Remember these plans are for worst case scenario and the severity of the actions we recommend reflect the severity of the potential disease. We do not make these recommendations lightly and are freely aware that they will severely restrict the civil liberties of the population as a whole. Should a high impact, low probability event of this type occur, we expect it to be a pandemic from a new subtype of the Influenza A virus. As it stands, the country is ill-equipped to deal with such an outbreak.

  These are our projections should computer analyses indicate that we are faced with a virus with a lethality and contagiousness greater than the 1918 Spanish flu.

  1) With modern air travel, it will not be possible to stop the virus from entering the country. Symptoms are likely to take up to five days to present depending on the host response.

  2) Although winter is the prime vector period, it could arise at any time of the year.

  3) We anticipate an outbreak to last between three and fifteen months.

  4) From its arrival in the UK, it will most likely be several weeks before the clusters of the disease become noticeable. By then it will already be widely disseminated throughout the population.

  5) Once the virus has established itself, we expect it to mutate rapidly as occurred in Guyuan. This will make present vaccine stocks useless.

  6) At the best case scenario, we anticipate a virus of this strength will infect and present symptoms in at least seventy-five per cent of the population.

  7) Normally adults are infectious for up to five days from the onset of symptoms. Recent research has however highlighted how the virus can be spread by touching contaminated objects. Money will be a prime vector for the virus to spread.

  8) Symptoms will range from cough, sore throat and fever, to diarrhoea, pneumonia, septicaemia and full respiratory collapse. Attention is drawn to last decade’s H1N1 swine flu outbreak that presented in some cases with full body organ failure.

  9) The Spanish flu had a mortality rate approaching five per cent. With the more exotic strains presenting, we anticipate a mortality rate anywhere up to forty per cent. This figure might be expected to be reduced by the impact of countermeasures but such effectiveness is far from certain

  10) In such an eventuality, secondary and primary medical care in the country will be unsustainable and will likely risk the possibility of collapse.

  Proposals

  It is our contention that we are faced with a “when” not an “if” scenario. A Pandemic of this magnitude will hit within the next fifty years, and present models show that we are, if anything, overdue for such an event. The government must take special measures to ensure the continuation of the economy, of law, vital facilities and order:

  1) Stockpiles of anti-viral medication must be enhanced. It will be more cost effective to do this prior to an event. Such medication should be reserved for essential personnel.

  2) All public venues and public transport should be outfitted with hand sanitisation stations. A public information campaign to warn the public of the symptoms and the measures needed to avoid viral spread should be undertaken as soon as possible.

  3) The continuity of government must be planned for. Senior members of the government, military and civil service must be housed in secure facilities during the duration of the outbreak. This will involve adaptation of existing infrastructure so as to include quarantine facilities. Such sites must be stocked with provisions for 1 year.

  4) At the first signs of an outbreak, martial law should be imposed. All large-scale public events should be limited and food distribution should be centralised.

  5) The government should begin now to advise the populous to stock up on non-perishable food.

  6) Plans to maintain the viability of the utility infrastructure must be made.

  7) It is the advice of this committee that an immediate moratorium on all immigration be put into immediate effect. Visa requirements from likely countries of origin for the virus (see Appendix A) should be reviewed.

  8) A countrywide rapid reaction team should be established made up of virologists and public health professionals, similar in scope to that organised by the CDC of the United Sta
tes of America. This team must be able to use forced quarantine.

  9) A contingency fund should be set aside from central taxation and held specifically to deal with this disease eventuality.

  10) Crematoriums will not be able to keep up with demand. Selected sites across the country need to be identified for the provision of mass burning should it be necessary. Burial is not a suitable option. The purchase of multibody sealable plastic body bags in excess of 500,000 should be implemented immediately.

  11) Every city should be outfitted with a biosafety level 4 quarantine facility to house at least 20 people. At present, the country’s facilities are woefully inadequate

  12) We advise that sporting events continue, but no crowds should be admitted. Broadcasts should be made freely available via the terrestrial and satellite networks to help the morale of the nation.

  Further recommendations can be found in Appendix B of this report

  Sir Simon Rifkind, Professor of Virology, Cambridge University.

  Chair of the Confidential Pandemic committee.

  The beginning of the end

  Azrael had never expected the sky to bleed.

  He walked because it was all he knew. Exhausted, his bare and shattered feet propelled him through the barren wasteland, the red sun beating down relentlessly on his scarred and dehydrating flesh. A thousand septic wounds tormented him, etched into the remnants of his skin by the demons he had escaped from. He had been in this wasteland for an eternity, and yet the wounds never seemed to heal. Endlessly he marched, the sun always high, never setting to allow the blissful relief that night would bring.

  This was his fate, and he deserved every second of it.

  Even the wind was against him, hot and abrasive from the sand it dragged up from the sterile Earth. The grit got in his mouth, his nose, even into his eyes. With no tears left to wash the torture away, his sight had been lost aeons ago, no relief provided by blood that poured from the scalp, wounds there that would never stop weeping. And these were the least of his injuries, pain dwelling there to join the chorus of agony that played throughout his decaying bulk. Once, he had been a man of immense size and physical strength. Now…now he was nothing. A husk, broken and alone. His body looked like it had been through a thousand wars. This was his torment, his perdition. He knew in his heart that he deserved every second of it, even though he had no memory of his crimes. Part of him was even thankful for the relentless pain because it at least meant he was still alive. At least he thought he was…there was even doubt about that.

  What if this was in fact what death was?

  Despite the damage to his matter and the desolation in his soul, he continued to walk, never giving up. Even through the exhaustion and the terrifying fact that most of his hide had long since been flayed from his flesh, there was no surrender in his heart. The nerve endings screamed as the exposed muscles crusted over with blood and pus, only for his movement to expose them to the air afresh. Yet he knew he had to keep on because no matter how horrific his journey was, it was nothing compared to the savagery that followed.

  Around him, thousands of others walked, sharing a similar fate. An army of the damned, all oblivious to each other’s presence.

  All he had left were the remnants of his sanity. If he stopped, if he rested even for a moment, he knew that the agents of damnation would take that remnant from him, slowly ripping his soul apart. And they would laugh as they did it. They had promised him as much. They had promised to take EVERYTHING from him….and then they would take so much more.

  Yes, he had to keep going, although he knew there was no destination that promised any kind of sanctuary. The mountain range in the distance never got any closer, and the sun never moved from its supreme position. Pointless flight was the only way to survive, if just for a little while longer. Because they followed. Even now, he could hear them in the distance, the resonance of their pursuit thunderous over the scorched Earth. When he had still been able to see, he had seen glimpses of them on the horizon a thousand times. It was worth being blinded just to escape those visions.

  Azrael would not willingly succumb though. He would never submit to them. Never. So even though he frequently stumbled, even though his body craved the water that had not passed his lips in a millennium, he persisted, bloodied footprints left in the sand behind him. A trail for the damned to follow. And follow they did.

  Dead man walking. One of legion.

  Part of him knew that they could catch him at any minute, that they were just patiently waiting for him to give himself to them willingly. The fiends were in no rush to claim his essence. By holding back, they were merely mocking his determination. Part of him also realised that his flight was a fool’s errand, that at any minute they could change their minds and descend, the four of them surrounding him, staring at him with eyes that showed the truth that lurked in the very depths of Hell. Then they would send him to a new level of misery.

  But they never did take him. Azrael always woke up before that happened.

  Sitting up in the long since soiled bed, his body shook from the aftermath of the nightmare. The images lingered with him as they always did, haunting his waking moments just as they corrupted his sleep. His stink filled the darkened room like a fetid mist and he breathed it in deeply in an attempt to settle himself. The smell did not concern him. If anything, he found it comforting…. familiar. It was who he was supposed to be. Running a hand over his face, he found the sweat there, thick and almost toxic, and he wiped his hand on the sheet, adding to the dampness that was already present. He had lived this way for several years, and those sheets had never seen the inside of a washing machine.

  Every night the nightmare came it was the same, the horrors taunting him, demanding he give himself to them, to become one with them. To become. Every night for nearly a year they came, ever since he had received and injected the mysterious package contents. Ever since then his nights had been shaped anew. Even now he could hear the ghosts of their voices lingering in the air, his phantom pursuers whispering to him.

  “Be one with us Azrael,” they would always demand softly.

  “Give us your soul so we may feast upon it and make you our brother.” There was malice and hate in those words, but also love. But the love he always ignored because he could never let what they demanded happen. For he knew that to do so would be the end of who he presently was. And his identity was everything, so much more he needed to achieve, his mission so woefully incomplete. There were so many faces he needed to see scream due to the skilled torture of his hands. That was why he had been reborn, to cut and gouge. To maim. To kill and do the bidding of his mistress.

  Seven years ago he had awoken on a warm tiled floor in a once luxurious bedroom he hadn’t recognised. When he had stood from the ground on shaky legs, naked and afraid, he had glanced at the reflection he saw in one of the many mirrors that decorated the gore-filled room. He hadn’t known the blood caked face that looked back at him. He was a stranger to himself. Alone except for the bodies. Except for the crimson paint and the ghosts of those whose lives had been so viciously stripped from them. It had taken him several seconds to notice the blade he held in his right hand, the knuckles white under the once life-giving fluid that coated the skin. Confusion had been his only friend at that moment. No, that was a lie. There had been another ally that had lurked within him. The urge to kill those who defiled the flesh of man.

  Clearly, he had been the artist of the bedroom’s particular morbid canvas, a canvas he hadn’t been able to sign because at the moment he hadn’t even known his own name. His mind was stripped of all identity, which was probably what scared him most of all. And yet he had not fled. Stepping from the room, he had entered an ornate bathroom and washed the evidence of murder off his flesh in a shower that looked like it had been sculpted rather than installed. The blood on his forehead bore evidence that he had not had everything his own way, the skin there tender to the touch. Across his body, he could already see the bruises st
arting to erupt. He would have examined his face in the bathroom mirrors, except all of them had been shattered. Not once did Azrael let go of the knife.

  Standing there, he had let the shower do its work. The water ran pink down the drain as his body was cleansed of the evidence of his sin. Fear had still dwelled within him though. Fear of what he had done, and the fact that at any moment he could have been discovered. His mind had raced with the mystery of who he was. As for the howling screams of accusation, they never came.

  Fifteen minutes later he was dressed in clothes that he had found in one of the bedroom’s closets. The two bodies he had so obviously killed were still ripe with the artistry he had carved into them, the arterial spray more elaborate than any expressionist. Azrael had left the bodies to the bacteria that now fed upon them. There was little concern within him for what he had so evidently done.

  A search of the building had revealed no clues as to his identity or his victims. He remembered picking up the discarded mobile phone on the hallway table to call the police and confess his obvious crimes, because what else was there for him to do? Before he could do so that very phone had started ringing. So had begun the life he now found himself living. The memory of his resurrection faded.

  Sat on the edge of his bed now, he was dragged into the present world by his own landline telephone barking at him. The phone was old and caked with the grime of a thousand fingers. Hand still shaking, he picked the receiver up and listened to the voice that spoke softly to him.

  “Today,” said the female voice. His Mistress. His conductor in the war he now waged. It was the same voice as seven years ago, a voice that had guided and protected him ever since. The voice never lied to him, but he suspected it never really told him the truth either, merely hinting at it.