Project Lazarus (42 page)

Charlie Dempster was the loneliest man in Cotter.  He had no soul left.  It was ripped out of him long ago in that Amazon jungle.  It was taken from him again when God turned his back and made his beloved son, Dylan, sick.  His soul died when he broke his oath as a scientist and resurrected his son.  His soul died a little more when he betrayed the Amazon man, Commander Henrid, his family and himself.

He cut the cord to his soul completely when the thought of his only son dying again was a real image in front of him. 

He was a lost soul now.  His body was only a void, an empty place where darkness used to dwell and could embrace again.  God knew he was a lonely soul, a lost man, yet he couldn’t reach him.  Everywhere God looked Charlie Dempster hid.  How would he hide now?  Dylan was saved by God.  He heard the voice.  There was no denying him now.

He stopped running long enough to admire the vivid blood red fruits on the trees in the small park.  Everything else around him was destroyed.  Yet, the fruits of the tall trees didn’t yield.

The sounds of death surrounded him.  Crying and screaming, the ending of lives, for something he did, it was uncontainable and the tears he hid so well dripped out of him, pouring into the earth and leaking onto the trees.

The rowan trees heard his cries along with the cries of so many and judged.  They had grown much since the horticulturist Lydia Harsden planted them in the hopes of keeping the remaining dead in their graves.

Much of the park and cemetery, where his feet tromped now were unrecognizable.  There was nothing left to cling to.  Signs were torn down.  He had no way of knowing he was walking on the dead.  There were no surprises.  No one was going to climb out of the ground, not since the Amazon man was silenced.  He was pleased the Amazon man was without his powers.  He felt like he won the battle and the war.  His son was alive.  The living dead were returned to their graves.  But the victorious feeling didn’t last long.  He was responsible for the destruction. 

The trees were aware of his destructive nature. They protected the dead and they didn’t feel safe.  This man was part of the dead being raised.  Ancient lore and the mad scientist were about to collide.  The branches reached for him, full and whole, waiting to swallow him up.

He lingered by the fruit, forbidden, perhaps even poisonous, he wasn’t sure.  He knew better than to touch the fruit, let alone eat it because he couldn’t risk his purpose.  Charlie Dempster would finish what he started.  It was his goal to regain his family and make it whole again.  He had been given a second chance.  He would sacrifice everything for it.

His mouth was parched and he thirsted for the juices of the fruit, the hunger set in.  When was the last time Charlie ate?  A simple thing- eating.  But survival was on his mind.  He was living for Dylan.  And then there was Millicent.  Where was she?  He had to go back for her.

Thoughts of his wife and the danger he put her in, made his insides turn inside out.  If Henrid tried to kill his son and fail would he take out his venom and revenge on Millicent?  He shook his head.  Such thoughts couldn’t be allowed in.

His world was a shattered mirror, a vision in which the man in the mirror identified the truth now.  There was no guessing.  There was a supreme force and it was more powerful than science.  His life’s work was but a joke in his mind.  All of it, this mystery of life, was explained to him when Dylan was saved and the voice from above spoke.

Yet, free will existed.  And until free will was removed, men like Charlie Dempster would still think they could control- people, things, situations and even the world.  He forced the idea of a Higher Power out of his world and far from his thoughts of reflection.  If there was a God, he was on Charlie’s side, that’s all he needed to know.

Charlie Dempster was a very twisted mind indeed.  He wouldn’t be untwisting that mind anytime soon.  He was in control.  He would find his son.  He would find his wife.  He would continue on with his work.  The Amazon man and Commander Henrid were nothing but mere visions in a rear view mirror.

He marched on over the dead bodies with determination.  All the while another species, the rowan trees, planted firmly in the ground to ward off evil spirits had a purpose now too.  They were powerful.  Their power had grown since the dead returned to their graves.  They could sense this man.  They took on a  life of their own and they could feel this man, his evil and his desire to raise the dead.

Inanimate objects are just that- inanimate objects, so we like to think.  But these were living things embedded in history and throughout time they mingled kindly with man.  Charlie walked with the determination of a prize fighter.  He was in the ring.  He stepped out for a minute.  But he was back in again.

He was a force to be reckoned with.

“Sorbus Aucuparia,” the words tumbled off his tongue, as though acknowledging his nemesis of the moment. 

The Latin name for the rowan tree- how did he remember that?  Suddenly the words repeated again and again in his mind, swirling about, taking possession.

“Sorbus Aucuparia,” he whispered, noticing their height, marveling at the sturdy branches moving swiftly in the wind.

He picked up his pace.  He sensed something in this place.  He tumbled over a gravestone and fell to the ground.

He wasn’t humbled, only determined to get back up.  A shadow enveloped him and he looked up to the sky.

He gasped.  The rowan trees were circling him with their branches.  He huddled on the ground, staring at the branches enclosing him now, he was the center and they moved like wild animals stalking wounded prey.

He moved.  The branches moved.  He moved left.  The branches dripped left.  He darted on his knees to the right.  The branches swept over to the right barely grazing his shoulder.

“Holy shit,” Charlie yelped.

The rowan trees were alive.  What did they want?  His scientific mind searched for an answer.  They protected the dead.  He was very much alive.

He crawled.  The branches hovered.

He felt the gravestone beneath him.

“Damn,” he muttered.  Just his luck, he was in the middle of a destroyed cemetery.

“Leave me be,” he yelled, trying to reason with the very living trees.

The trees were infuriated by his comments.

He scrambled to his feet, as the long scrawling branches reached out for him now, grasping and scraping against his skin.

His forehead bleeding, he saw a clearing through the trees and made a run for it.

His legs wobbly, his mind unsure, his life out of his hands for the second time today, he had one shot to get out of that cemetery but the rowan would not let him go.

He was a dangerous evil spirit and even the living beings that couldn’t talk back understood he was evil.

He ran.  The branches took their opportunity, seizing him low at the feet and curling around his entire body.

He was swinging now upside down.  His eyes scanned the desolate cemetery beneath him. 

The rowan trees could make him a part of that cemetery forever.  The branches could crush him.  They were squeezing the life out of him.

“Help,” he yelled out to a world crumbling that could care less about one man.

He couldn’t stay in this spot.  He fought the branches but was bound tight.

They were thrashing him about.  Relentlessly, they threw him back and forth and brought him closer to the ground each time.  The earth opened up.  His eyes gaped.  The rowan trees were going to swallow him whole and bury him in the ground with the living.

They kept tossing him about hovering over the hole.  Nature scared Charlie more than people.  People could be manipulated.  Nature could change on a dime.  He tried to fight his fate but it was useless.  The hole in the ground and the tree trunks spread far apart and toyed with him, dangling him above like a little mouse.

Within seconds it was over.

The rowan trees made their decision.  He was evil and there was no room for him in the cemetery.  He had to go.  They flung him out into the wide open sky.

He flew, feeling the weight of the air heavy against him.  This must be what a golf ball feels like he decided.  It was a funny thought at the time.

Surely he would die from the impact of the ground. He awaited his fates.

He hit the ground with a soft thud.  The rowan trees could have killed him.  He figured they just wanted him out of their territory.

His whole body felt searing pain.  He gasped for air.  Charlie Dempster was on his last life.

He cried out in pain, refusing to lose.

Someone….someone heard him.  Friend or foe, someone would be coming for Charlie Dempster soon.

Two kinds of men inhabit this place we call planet earth.  There is the wolf and the sheep.  One is a predator the other prey.  Then there is the sheepdog, a strange creature, aware and astute of his surroundings, in this world the sheepdog has learned what the sheep forgets- survival.

Dr. Neville Woods was a bit of a sheep.  It didn’t matter how much knowledge you could push into one brain.  People smarts weren’t part of the curriculum for the celebrated doctor.  He was too nice to see the motives of mankind.  He was an honest and ethical doctor, which is why he never made much money or got very far.

He was a sheep in medical school when he wrote his thesis about people in remote tribes living well over one hundred years due to the practice of resurrection.  It was the wolves that laughed behind his back.  The wolves believed his theory but didn’t promote him.  God forbid the masses get wind of their plans.  Dr. Neville and his theories were useless until one day the important men in world needed him.  He was brought to the small town of Cotter to study all the living dead.  Ever the sheep, he followed his mind, not his gut.  He never asked questions to superiors.  Instead, he marveled in the wickedness of their achievements.  He tried to uncover the secrets of the dead.  In the end, the sheep remained a faithful servant.  He received no glory only work.  He uncovered a truth he could now tell no one.  He was dispensable.  He didn’t comprehend survival.  The wolves would hunt him down.  He would never talk.

Like most sheep, he suffered greatly in a way the wolf and the world dare not understand.  Compassion is not under-rated just under appreciated.  He lost something along the way.  For him it was personal, as most sheep feel the pain of those around them not themselves.  Sheep aren’t selfish or greedy but kind.  His pain was watching his assistant Grace fall apart.  She was innocent and unaware of the dangers that lurked in Cotter.  In the end, she crumbled.  Like most sheep, Dr. Neville felt responsible.  His assistant Grace was traumatized and ran away never to be seen again.  The thought of finding her and saving her offered him great grief.

He walked aimlessly in the desolate town that was easily destroyed by other men, wolves that roamed unnoticed, cheating and lying along the way and stealing lives.  Now his life was at stake.

He passed the tree twice before noticing he was lost and going in circles.  His head felt much the same.  This was unusual, as during his entire life he knew exactly where he was headed.  Medicine, science and studies all came to him so naturally.  But now the strange man from the strange place changed him.  He was a healer.  What would he do with these powers?

In a town, that was now his world, he could hear the destruction around him.  He rubbed his forehead and continued walking.  It was unfair.  He was living with a healing power and no one left to heal.

Finally, he possessed the powers which would allow him to leave his mark.  He could leave this world a better place.  It made him angry and frustrated.  He was losing control of his emotions and that was a bad thing.  If he gained any wisdom from life, it was to remain in control.  If the emotions were let out, he might make a bad decision.  It didn’t really matter anymore.  There was nothing left for him.

It was clear the wolves in this world wanted to destroy everyone in Cotter.  He was no exception.

Were there any sheep left?  He doubted it.

He couldn’t possibly notice the laser red beam targeting the back of his head.  One pull of the trigger and he would be a statistic.

A hand, a weak one at that, dragged him to the ground and the bullet missed him by inches.  It was surreal.

The hand that grabbed his leg and pulled him to the ground was a wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing.

Dr. Woods thanked the man on the ground.

The man, in his early fifties, looked like a tornado hit him.  He was torn apart inside and out.  But he was alive.

His skin, what was bared on his arms and cut off pant legs was scraped.  A large gash across his forehead was pouring out the familiar substance of blood, never good to see on the outside.

Dr. Woods was used to emergency situations.  He easily could fix this man with stitches and bandages and medical equipment.  Now, he was a healer of a different sort.  He only required his hands and the light that soared through them.

“My God, you’re alive,” he said to the man, “I thought I was the only one left.”

“Yes, me too,” the man implored, “can you help me?”  He questioned, trying to push back in the blood gushing out of his face.

“Yes, I can help you,” he assured the man, “tell me your name.”

The wolf answered quietly, “Charlie…Charlie Dempster.”

Somehow the wolf always manages to survive.  And so the strange dance began.  Ruled by his rage and emotion combined in a lethal battle, Dr. Neville didn’t hesitate.  He would reveal his coveted secret healing without another thought.   It was his duty to save the life in front of him.

And so the sheep began healing the wolf.

“Just sit still and don’t move.  I’m a doctor.”

Charlie couldn’t believe his luck.  God works in mysterious ways.  Although, the devil walked this earth just to tempt the Lord, his only son.  He tempted all of us.  How much power did he have on this earth we inhabit?  Were the great blessings bestowed on man daily, Charlie’s version of luck or even a modern day success story the work of God or the devil? 

“This might appear strange but you will be healed,” Dr. Neville assured him.

His hands hovered over the man and the bright light emanated so luminescent that the dying Charlie Dempster got blood all over his hands from the gash attempting to cover his eyes.

It took nearly ten minutes for Dr. Woods to heal every scrape that wounded him and lastly he settled near his head where his intuition told him the man in front of him was suffering from internal swelling of the brain.  He could die quickly.

Dr. Woods closed his eyes and concentrated on the area until the light formed into a warm heat, a healing was taking place.

“Your name,” mumbled Charlie, “tell me your name.”

“My name is Dr. Neville Woods.”

Charlie racked his brain.  The name was unfamiliar to him. The work, the healing, was unexpected and unfamiliar.  Where did this man get such powers?

Dr. Neville went about his work.  He continued until the man dying before him was healed.

Dr. Woods felt empowered, important for the first time in his life.  He was always proud of being a doctor but this kind of healing was so much more.  It made him feel special.  He was chosen by the Amazon man and his power could be used only for good.  He could heal easier and faster and more quickly than ever before.

Nothing could burst his ego or this newfound bubble.  Nothing.  Unless, he knew the truth about the man who’s life he saved.  Perhaps, it didn’t matter who Charlie Dempster was or what he was capable of to some people but Dr. Neville Woods was a sheep becoming more astute.  He might care if he ever became a survivor in this mess.  If he lived to tell, he might have killed Charlie Dempster.  He wasn’t a sheepdog yet.  He might never be.  Time would tell.

For now, the players remained the same.  A good man like Dr. Woods would never leave Charlie Dempster behind to die.

Charlie rested for a while and then simply asked, “Where did you learn to do that?”

The doctor wasn’t familiar with the politics and maneuvers of the world.  He didn’t know telling the truth to that question might have consequences.

Yet, something told him, the Amazon man wouldn’t want his secret shared.  Maybe the Amazon man wanted to disappear.  Perhaps he simply passed his gift along to him.  In that moment, the distinction was made and the gauntlet dropped.  Dr. Woods could see his motives.  Maybe his healing powers were better than just healing.   Maybe they could show him the heart of a man.  And the man before him, he didn’t trust.

For once Dr. Woods became a sheepdog, astute and aware of the need for survival.

“I’m a doctor.  I’ve studied many forms of healing.  I think you lucked out my friend.”

Charlie knew only one man could work such magic and that was the Amazon man.  He was a wolf.  Charlie wasn’t about to reveal his secret.

“I can’t thank you enough,” he simply replied, knowing the man before him was a formidable opponent or at the least a liar.  It always mattered to Charlie.

He looked into the eyes of the doctor.  Something changed.  Charlie knew he wouldn’t break him.

“Where are you headed?”  He asked the healer.

“I have to be about my way.  I saved your life.  There may be another in need.  Yourself?”

“I am forever grateful to you,” Charlie told him, his sincerity not questionable, and then added, “It’s time I go about my work as well.”

“I have a feeling we may not be on the same side,” Dr. Neville Woods told him.

“I guess it really doesn’t matter,” Charlie told him, “look around you.  Think you’re gonna get out of here alive?”

Dr. Woods agreed, “Up to the fates I guess.”

Ever the wolf, Charlie offered, “You could come with me.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find my wife.”

“Is that all?” Dr. Woods asked.

“You’re a very intelligent man.  You tell me.”

“I think you’re in a hurry Charlie.  I think you will find your wife.  I hope that makes you happy.”

“Of course but there’s so much to life Dr. Woods, I think you know we all have more than family at stake.”

“Yes,” he nodded, knowing the evil inside him now.

“I have to be about my way.  Will you follow?”  Charlie tempted him again.

“I think I’ll go it alone,” Dr. Neville Woods responded, shook his hand, “good luck to you Charlie.”

He held the hand that saved him, “I’m not a believer in luck.  But I can’t deny it brought you to me.  To save me.”

“Did I save you Charlie?”  The doctor asked and got up.

He walked away to begin a life he never expected, a life he never planned.

Charlie studied everything about him.  He would need him later down the road.

“Millicent,” he muttered.

The mystery of Dr. Woods could wait.  Charlie had to find Millicent Dempster.