Project Lazarus (26 page)

“I will try to get John free you have my word.”

“Father Flannery, what should I do?  Jim went to hell.  He’s back now and he’s about ready to come into the church.  I can see him.  Don’t ask me how.  But he’s coming for me.  For us,” her voice trailed off.

The lone witness and listener sat silent.  There was nothing to do but pray.

The living dead consumed Cotter.  Most of the small population was dead.  They were taking over.  They were making it a hell on earth.  Their hell on earth.  Their screams were getting louder.  Their violence grew.  They attacked the living without hesitation.

It was their destiny.  The only way back to hell was to kill all the living in Cotter.  The balance, as the Amazon man liked to call it, had to be restored.

The house of Ivan and Gilbert Chuttle remained unscathed but it was only a matter of time.

They went to bed early, listening to the wailing all night long.  Mrs. Chuttle held her flashlight in her hand, if they were clever enough to take out the power in the house she wanted to be able to see.

Mr. and Mrs. Chuttle and the boys all slept in sleeping bags in the living room.  It was surreal from dusk until dawn like riding out a hurricane waiting for the light.  Yet, the hurricane kept coming day after day and there was nothing they could about it.

Forget a bug out plan.  There was no way out of Cotter.

“Gilbert’s burning up,” Mrs. Chuttle told her husband, “What are we going to do?”

The worried mother of two young boys, fretted on the inside, allowing only her husband to see the fear on the outside.

She felt the boys’ forehead.  He was hot.  Probably 100 degrees in temperature.

“I’d say put him in some ice but the electricity and the water are both spotty,” the husband told her.

“Let me see,” he put his hand to Gilbert’s head, glanced nervously at his wife and looked deep into the eyes of his oldest son, “Don’t worry son it will be alright.”

“We can’t get the doctor.  They cut the landline phones,” Mrs. Chuttle complained.

“Well, it’s a good thing we were a bit of prepper’s huh?  We have all this bottled water.  Here son drink up.”

The weary boy drank the water slowly, as he lounged on the sofa, unable to move.  He was quiet, almost cationic.

“Maybe he’s in shock,” his father offered.

“I don’t know what happened to those boys out there,” Mrs. Chuttle agreed, “I suppose anything is possible.”

Ivan didn’t know how to help his older brother.  They had been through so much.  Both of them lost hearing in one ear.  And now this.  He wished they had never gone out to see that military facility in the woods.

“I wish we had never gone out there,” he kept repeating in his mind over and over.

Without warning he heard his brother Gilbert’s voice, “No,” he said.  But the words were not audible to anyone in the room.  He could only hear them in his head.  As if, he had tuned into some strange radio station. 

He glanced at Gilbert on the sofa.  He was out of it.  Maybe a coincidence.

“We were right to go out there and we saw something.  Something incredible Ivan and no one can take that away from us.”

Ivan sat up alert this time, more than ever in his life, his brother was communicating with him inside his head.   Yet, he was nearly comatose.  How was this possible?   What happened to them out in the woods?

More importantly, would Gilbert hear him if he talked back?

“Gilbert?  Gilbert can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

The voice was strong and clear, it made him jump up and run to tell his folks.  He made it to his parents who were attending to Gilbert on the sofa when he heard him again, “No, don’t.  Not now.  Don’t tell them.”

Ivan stopped in his tracks.

“Gilbert, honey are you okay?” She asked the agitated looking boy.

He was silent.  Unable to speak.

“He isn’t talking.  What should we do?”  She asked he husband.

“Keep him awake.  Let’s use the bottled water to cool his face.  Ivan, go get a towel for your brother.”

“Okay Dad.”

He ran up the stairs and into the bathroom where he heard his brother’s voice again.

“Don’t worry about me Ivan.  I’m okay just gone for a little while.  Looks like we lost our hearing but gained something new.”

“Gilbert, I think we should tell Mom and Dad now.”

“We made a pact Ivan to tell no one.  Don’t you see our lives are in danger?  That military man would kill us if he thought we knew more.  Thank God we never told him.  But things are about to get worse.”

“What do you mean?” Ivan asked in his head.

“That dead man from hell….I think he’s coming for us,” Gilbert told him.

“How do you know this?”

“Well, looks like we’re tuned into each other’s thoughts.  But I think you’re only on one station...the one that goes into my thoughts.  I’m hearing other thoughts.  The thoughts of the living dead from hell.  It comes and goes like a static on the radio and I’m scared Ivan.”

“Don’t be scared.”

“Ivan, hurry with the towels,” he heard his father bellow from downstairs.

“Coming Dad.”

“I can hear that man from hell’s voice.  He knows us.  We saw him.  He’s the only one and he wants us dead Ivan.”

Ivan sighed.  He didn’t know what to say.  His brother’s ramblings ceased.  He ran downstairs with the towels.

“Here Dad.  How’s he doing?”

“I don’t want you worrying about this Ivan,” Mr. Chuttle reassured him, “I know you boys think it’s your fault but it’s not.  Your mother and I know about the experiments out in the woods. We know all about the man from the dead.”

“Yeah but what you don’t know Dad is that we met that man and he wants to drag us with him,” he was screaming in his head.

“No,” he heard Gilbert again.

“No, don’t tell them,” he reaffirmed again.

“Why Gilbert?  They’re our parents and they’re adults.  Don’t you think they would know how to handle this?”

“No,” Gilbert told him, “when the time comes and it will.  You and I will be the ones to handle this.  And we’ll be protected.”

His eyes shut and opened, fluttering ever so slightly, until they opened wide, as if in some kind of trance.

Mrs. Chuttle rotated towels on her son’s forehead.  She cooled off his arms with the towels and his legs.  He seemed to be going down in temperature.

Mr. Chuttle kept trying to get him to sip the water.

As quickly as his temperature had risen, now it was falling.

“What’s going on?”  Mrs. Chuttle panicked.

“I don’t know.  He was so hot.  Now he’s cold.”

She touched her son, “Good God, he’s so cold.”

“Let me get the blankets,” Mr. Chuttle came to the rescue.

What the hell is going on here he wondered.  He was worried just like his wife but oddly calm.

He went around the house gathering up blankets, sweat-shirts, just about anything he could to keep the boy warm.

“Hurry up,” Mrs. Chuttle screamed, “He’s very cold.”

He came running and threw the blankets and stuff on the boy from head to toe, “This should help.”

But it didn’t.  Gilbert started trembling, terribly, furiously.  His teeth chattered.  His body then started to shake violently.

“Get a spoon,” Mr. Chuttle commanded Ivan.

He returned in a mere flash.

“It looks like he’s going into some kind of seizure.”

“Oh God.  No,” Mrs. Chuttle screamed.

The boy shook violently then his whole body stopped turning stiff.  His eyes opened and he screamed, “He’s coming.  Hurry, he’s coming now.”

“Who?  Who’s coming?”  His father asked.

The boy didn’t answer but he remained stoic, almost like a dead man and this had his father worried.

Ivan watched the terror unfold.  They caused their parents so much grief.  All they wanted was a little adventure.  His brother was going to die, the thought permeated his brain and his grief called out to Gilbert.

“I’m not going to die.  But I need you to help me,” Gilbert communicated.

“Me?  How can I help you?”

“I have a gift.  I can hear these living dead.  I think you might have something too.”

“What?”

“I think I might know.  Come here brother.”

Brother.  He addressed him like that when he was serious about things.  There were many serious things going on now.

When Ivan approached his brother he was acutely aware knew his parents wouldn’t leave.  And as always his older brother Gilbert was right, he knew instinctively what to do.

“Mom, Dad go rest for a minute.  I’ll watch Gilbert.”

“No, son.  We have to be here.”

“No, Dad.  You have to go,” he said authoritatively.

His mother and father looked at each other, got up and backed away.

Ivan sat down next to his brother.  His knees on the carpet, he raised his hands and placed them an inch above his brother’s head.  He didn’t touch him.  He could feel the warmth, as he let his hands move slowly above, hovering, over his brother’s body.

Within minutes, Gilbert was awake and well.  The scenario left Mr. and Mrs. Chuttle in awe of both sons.

Gilbert sat up to his stunned parents.  He smiled at Gilbert.

“I guess you got the gift of healing,” he told Ivan in his head.

Ivan smiled, “Better than yours.”

“Indeed brother.”

“But I know instinctively I can only heal you Gilbert,” Ivan warned.

“How odd,” Gilbert mused.

Mr. and Mrs. Chuttle weren’t sure what happened.  They were just glad it was all over.