[New Voices] “The Lazurai” — by J. R. Kruze
Chuck was waiting for the visitor coming his way. Rumors told the walker was Death itself. But Chuck couldn't leave. So he waited outside his roadside store, watching.
Another speculative fiction parable by J. R. Kruze
I.
At the open door to the empty concrete dome, inside the long chain-link fence, you can see some sheets of paper tacked to a bulletin board, each page protected by plastic against the weather.
You can read it from where you stand, if you focus your binoculars just right:
They call me Death.
But I gave you only love as my gift.
Blame it all on the terrorists. Or the scientists. Or the government.
Doesn’t matter. I’m alive because I’m a freak. And I was made in the image of you.
Some say it was after they found viruses were sentient. And passed that Sentient Life Act. But people say a lot of things.
I can’t die, you see. And so the government scientists gave me more life to give away in return. That life can cause death.
But I’m not a terrorist, I was a victim of terrorism.
Of course, I don’t remember any of this, as I was just a babe laying in my bed in a maternity ward. A bomb went off nearby. Most everyone died in the hospital. It wasn’t the explosion that mattered but what was in it.
More than half of the babies in that room with me lived. And kept living. While all around us were getting sick and dying, we kept gurgling and smiling when anyone in their hazmat suits came around. We just wanted to be fed, and cradled, and listen to the funny voices and faces they made for us behind their Plexiglas face-guards.
The few babies released to their families resulted in most of their family getting sick and dying. Any remaining lost their minds. The babies were then recovered and returned by people in hazmat suits.
So all of us who survived that day were taken in by the government, and research was begun to see how and why and what we had become.
Ultimately, they found a common virus in us, they called “Lazurus”.
It kept us alive, and killed most other humans around us, other than other babies. The youngest ones had the best chance of surviving any infection.
When we became older, we were moved to a sealed dome where we could grow older. And be watched.
Our ability to make people sick got worse after we became teenagers. No adult was with us very long. The Lazurus virus came out of our pores, and then made its way through any known fabric, plastic, or even metal.
One day, they gassed us all. And a few hours later, we were still alive. Made our eyes tear up, but that was about it. A few days later, they tried other chemicals. And then different illnesses they had stored up. Even tried to burn us, blow us up.
Didn’t work.
No one else knew about this. Because they were all told that we had died, finally. And our dome was cemented over. A Chernobyl solution.
As you’re reading my story today, you know that also failed.
You see, we absorbed the chemicals and anti-virals and diseases they released among us. And in our system, we were able to then release them back through our pores. In strange and different combinations.
Without oxygen, our systems would change to live on other compounds. In a vacuum, our bodies would create air by digesting the materials we touched.
And that is how we had food and fluids after we were put in the concrete. We lived several years that way.
Until the day we ate our way through the concrete. And the fences, and learned to digest the metal slugs they shot us with. We got very good at healing ourselves.
All they could do is retreat. And retreat, and keep away from us.
Exactly what we didn’t want.
All we wanted was to be loved. All we had was each other. The other Lazurai.
We went back to our concrete bunker. And made it into a home.
We built in skylights, and found enough clear plastic to waterproof the holes. If we needed building materials, we just went out to find them. Someone finally got smart enough to leave a walkie-talkie with enough spare batteries so we could put our requests out. Then whatever we needed was delivered to a neutral zone, usually through remote-controlled trucks, that would self-unload their contents and drive away, blowing themselves up shortly after leaving their cargo.
People didn’t want us to get transportation.
One of those supply runs brought us our Internet access, and we found more about the world.
Eventually, one by one, we left. They couldn’t stop us.
We left in search of love. Understanding. Humanity.
We each were walking Death.
Mostly.
II.
This morning, Chuck opened up the highway store again. Like he had most days for the last 20 years.
He sat on the faded wooden bench, under the faded metal awning out front and waited.
The morning was still cool, a slight breeze from the south that would mean another hot day. Not enough to raise the dust. In the shade, it was comfortable. The bench was wooden, but curved to support your back. And he had his step stool out there to keep his booted feet up off the ground.
Nearby, a tall thermos of lemonade spiked with vodka was busy perspiring. Ice cubes were slowly melting, sometimes shifting with a light tinkle as they settled in.
Lately, he’d been putting that extra “juice” in it. Just to take the edge off.
Didn’t expect much customers coming in today, if any. Like the last few weeks.
Once a Lazurai was rumored in the area, people left. And mostly didn’t come back.
Chuck didn’t have much of a choice. And didn’t care anyway.
He stayed with his wife, Charlene. She had her good days and others. Mostly others, more recent.
He’d gotten an OK from the doctor to bring her home from the hospital, to those rooms in the back where they’d lived in for so long. She wasn’t expected to live as long as she had, so every day you could say was another blessing. But they both knew what was in her was eating her up. Day to day, they kept going.
Chuck had gotten used to being her nurse. For awhile, one of the professional nurses had come by once or twice a week to answer his questions and check in on him. But she hadn’t been around in weeks. Not since the rumor got started.
He’d heard of entire cities emptied out just because of a traveling Lazurai rumor. And when the story didn’t pan out, it didn’t mean people would come back.
His store was stocked OK, everything except propane canisters, electrical generators, and gas cans. The crowd had bought these all out, on their way to somewhere else. There was still plenty of gas in the ground for the pumps out front. If the power lines went dead, he had his own generator hardwired in and bolted down so it couldn’t “disappear.” If need be, he could last for months just cannibalizing the fuel in the ground and what food he had on the shelves. As long as he didn’t get tired of beer nuts and beef strips.
It might get lonely, though.
He stayed because Charlene stayed.
Charlene didn’t want to leave for treatment, as she’d be too far from the baby’s grave out back.
That seemed to be the turning point for her. She never seemed to recover after the baby had died.
Death was such a weighted term. But it was more accurate than anything else.
He remembered that day when they held the small ceremony out back. One of the few days he didn’t open up the store. The local lay-pastor had come out to say a few words. And a friend with a back-hoe had dug the hole in that dried, hard ground. Chuck had bought a concrete cross, but couldn’t afford to have the baby’s name carved into it.
Charlene was in a wheelchair that day, and never left it to walk again since. Only left it to lay down in their bed, which she had left less often as her illness got worse.
Chuck left a folding chair out there by the grave, where he could come and talk to their baby, to tell it all the things he had on his mind. All the things they would have liked to do when it grew up. And sometimes Charlene would ask about what he had told the baby. Sometimes, she’d ask Chuck to sing a hymn for the baby, for her.
Chuck used to have a great voice for singing. They’d go every Sunday down the road to a little town that was big enough for a small congregation in one of the store fronts there. Chuck would sing the hymns along with everyone else, often leading them with his strong baritone.
Nowadays, he hardly could get through half the verses before he would break down and sob.
That was the reason for the chair. Sobbing things out tended to help him get through the next few days.
Otherwise, most of his day was either dusting the shelves, sweeping dust from the floor out the front door, or sitting where he was. Waiting.
III.
Late morning that day, he saw someone walking. Miles off yet. Coming toward him, along the edge of the road and staying off the pavement. Chuck could tell because the highway was laser straight for miles in both directions.
You could hear anything coming when there was traffic. And then hear it going.
Walkers made no noise, and took a long time to get there. A long time to get gone.
“Well Mr. Lazurai, take your time. I’m in no hurry.” Chuck said that out loud to no one in particular.
He figured that this had to be a Lazurai as he was walking.
People told stories about them that they wouldn’t necessarily kill you right off, but if they liked you then you had a few days or so. Of course, the people that lived were cursed anyway, as anyone they knew would leave them alone after that. As what the Lazurai gave a person could also affect the other people around them. Big or small community, it didn’t matter. Viruses spread.
Chuck didn’t care. He wasn’t going to leave Charlene and she wasn’t going to leave her baby. So if this was the end, he was as ready as he was going to be.
By the time the walker was nearly in earshot, Chuck had finished off the rest of his lemonade and was ready for a refill. But he stayed on that bench in the shade and waited to meet this person.
His only real hope is that the end would be swift and painless. For everyone concerned.
The walker just kept coming. The dark hood of a jacket over its head. Dust covering its boots and lower half of its jeans. Hands in pockets. Like sunshine was bad for it. As cool as the day was, a dark jacket would make everything a lot hotter.
Chuck was in a gray t-shirt, faded jeans and his thick hunting boots. Denim cap on his head with a frayed visor finished the local look.
When the walker came up to the porch, a small breeze came up from the east. The smell of the venison in the slow cooker inside wafted out along with the barbecue sauce and the coffee Chuck had brewed that morning.
“Good morning. What can I do for you?” Chuck called out as cheerfully as he could, more out of habit than instinct.
The walker stopped before store’s awning. Still standing in the sun. There was no reply.
Chuck simply waited. Watching. Nothing to do at this point.
After a voice-clearing cough, the walker finally said, “It is a good morning.”
Chuck didn’t reply, just smiled. Why he smiled was still probably out of habit.
“Why are you still here?” the walker asked.
“Nowhere to go.”
“Most people simply run off, even if they don’t have a destination.”
“That’s their choice, I guess.”
“What made you choose to stay?”
“Wife’s sick in back, and she won’t leave her baby. So there’s not really any choice to it. I won’t leave her.”
The hooded head raised as the sound of the word baby. And a light face could be seen showing slightly.
“You have a baby?”
“Did. Buried out back.”
“Sorry. For all of you.”
Chuck paused at that. The sound of that ‘sorry’ was honest. “Not to be rude, but why would a Lazurai be sorry about anything?”
“And you think I’m a Lazurai?”
“Well, I heard weeks ago that one was heading our way. And you’re walking instead of driving. I could be wrong, but are you?”
“Some people call me that. The name I prefer is Rochelle.”
“OK, Rochelle. That’s a lot prettier. Won’t you come in out of the sun?”
“Aren’t you afraid of me?”
“Sure, but that’s not going to make anything any easier. You might as well come up here and get out of that hot sun. It’s a little cooler in the shade.”
“Thanks.” Rochelle came up on the concrete porch under the awning and sat in one of the chairs next to that bench.
She raised her hands to her hood and lowered it. That action revealed a startling beauty with dark green eyes and straight auburn hair pulled back into a pony tail. Her skin was light, but she had freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Rochelle looked at Chuck directly, but more in question than accusation. They both looked at each other, until Chuck looked away.
Rochelle then gazed out across the plain where the dried prairie grass was bent from the weather. She relaxed in her chair and extended her feet out in front, crossing them. “It always feels good to stretch your legs after so much walking.”
“I imagine it does. Say, I’m about to get a refill. Did you want something to drink?”
Rochelle glanced at his face again and noticed the corners of his mouth were starting a smile. “Sure, some water would be nice.”
“How about some lemonade? I’ve got a pitcher full back there.”
“Sure.”
As Chuck got up with his thermos glass, he rose with a practiced and unhurried ease like he would for any paying customer. Not that he would ask her for anything. Death doesn’t have to pay.
He returned shortly with a tall plastic sixteen-ounce tumbler, a plastic cap on it, and a paper-covered straw. Gaudy logo’s covered it, in contrast to the dark and dusty jacket Rochelle wore.
Handing the cup and straw to her, Chuck noticed her fingernails were clean and neatly trimmed, silver rings on several fingers.
Rochelle smiled with straight teeth and a look that could melt any teenager’s heart. “Thanks.”
Rochelle took the straw and set it down by her leg on the chair. Then carefully she took the lid off the filled cup and drank deeply. She paused when she got about a third of it down, knowing that she should be taking small sips to allow her body to adjust.
The silence returned again.
Finally, Chuck spoke. “Have you been walking long?”
“All day so far, and most of the day before that.”
“Heading somewhere in particular?”
“Not really. Just walking.”
“I may be out of line here, but all that walking is going to take you somewhere eventually. Most people have an idea of what they want to do when they start out…”
“Nope. Not for me. I’m just walking.”
Another fresh breeze came through the store, and reminded Chuck of what he was cooking.
“Hey, are you hungry? It’s a little early for lunch, but late for breakfast. Would you like to join me for some venison stew?”
Rochelle brightened at this, all the creases from her face erasing at the thought. “It’s been months since I’ve had someone else’s cooking. My breakfast was a trail bar.”
“OK, you just sit there and I’ll bring you out a plate of it. We don’t have a table inside, and you don’t need to be standing at a counter after all those miles your dogs have covered. Be right back.”
Rochelle smiled at her feet being called ‘dogs’ and the idea of some hot food.
Chuck returned shortly with two plastic plates, and some corn bread. He had put a plastic fork and spoon on each plate. Rochelle thanked him as he handed her one.
They sat and ate in silence. The wind rustled the brown and gray grasses, while a tree provided a perch for a lone bird out in the distance.
Rochelle loosened her jacket by unzipping it partially. That exposed a t-shirt that had some rock band logo on it. She had curled her feet under her chair while she ate, sat the tall drink by one chair leg. Once the plate was cleared, she sat it down on the bench seat and picked up the drink again, sipping it thoughtfully.
“Thanks, Chuck.”
“How did you know my name?”
“Road sign. Figured that you must be the Chuck in ‘Chuck’s Place.’”
Chuck smiled. “Yea, that would be me.”
Rochelle looked directly at him. “I don’t know how many years its been since someone talked to me like you have.”
“Like I have?”
“Nice-like. As if you cared.”
“Well, what choice do I really have? People are people. It doesn’t seem right to treat them nasty even when you’re facing the end.”
“Do you think I’ve bringing you your end?”
“Well, aren’t you? Aren’t you a Lazurai?”
“Not actually. Something like a third generation.”
Rochelle then told the story of how she had come into contact with someone who had been in contact with one of the original Lazurai. By the time she had found out, she was already cursed by her own family and community. She’d been asked to leave and did. She’d never heard from them again, or even tried to call them.
“Most of the original Lazurai are gone. They literally faded into the earth or canyons, or even vacant concrete buildings. Loneliness does strange things to people. And they didn’t have to be human anymore, especially if they weren’t wanted. They’d lean up against a wall, all depressed, and then just melt into it. Or sit in a canyon until they just faded into the rocks they were sitting on. Some seemed to evaporate into the air. But those are all legends.
“There are isolated camps of people who were infected by them, and they’ve learned to master their situation. So much so that they can pass for normal, and move through cities entirely un-noticed and not make anyone sick.
“Others used to work for the military, at least until they were being experimented on too many times. Vengeance only goes so far as motivation. And trusting the government too much has never worked well, if you read your history. Corporations are no better, and usually worse.
“So a private and reflective life is the usual outcome. No one but our own kind understand what it’s like. And when you get a group of them together, it usually winds up getting attacked one way or the other. Ends up badly for everyone.”
Chuck closed his open mouth. “So you don’t make people sick? Don’t kill them?”
“I can if I want. Mostly I don’t want. Why would I want to?”
“But isn’t that what the originals did?”
“That was all they knew how to do. They didn’t have control over it. And everyone who got close would die, so they quickly turned pretty sour, mostly.”
“How did the next generation survive?”
“In their travels, they’d occasionally find babies. And babies are able to adapt easier than kids or adults. The ones that did then would inherit the genes from whoever had found them. Just through their physical touch. And the Lazurai took special care of those babies, as they didn’t judge them and would give them love in return.
“But tell me about why you’re still here when everyone else left. Tell me about your life.”
So Chuck in turn told her about the baby and Charlene. All the doctors and treatments, and finally Charlene’s decision to simply go back to the only home the two of them had ever known together.
When he was done, they were both silent again.
The sun had climbed while they were talking and the porch’s shade had shortened considerably.
Rochelle then asked, “Can I see her?”
Chuck rose without a word and took her plate with his to drop in the trashcan on the other side of the open door. He motioned to her. “I think she’s still sleeping.”
They then went inside.
IV.
Charlene was asleep, a pain-filled frown on her face. She was gaunt, thin. Her brown hair was brittle and had streaks of grey in it. Her breath came in wheezes. While she was dressed in a comfortable cotton blouse, with a fan circulating the air overhead, it was obvious there was little comfort for her in that bed.
Rochelle sat in the chair by the bedside and took her Charlene’s hand. And looked at her. After a few moments, she looked back up at Chuck.
“She’s in pain, but is still strong. It’s her spirit that is keeping her here. And your love.”
Chuck felt a tear come down one cheek. “You can tell that from just touching her?”
“That and more.” Rochelle returned Charlene’s hand to the bed-cover and patted it. Charlene had quit frowning and seemed at peace.
Rochelle rose to face Chuck. “Please take me to the baby.”
Chuck led her out the screened back door out to the concrete cross in the ground a dozen yards away. There were children’s toys tied with monofilament fishing line to it.
Rochelle kneeled next to the cross and put her hand on the mound where a thin covering of gray grass lay. She touched the sun-faded toys and rearranged them so they were closer.
Chuck’s voice was gravelly. “I tied them on so they wouldn’t blow away in the storms…” He stopped at this, choked up.
Rochelle looked up to Chuck, and saw his eyes brimming with tears. “I think there is something I can do for all of you. But you’re going to have to do something for me.”
Chuck nodded as a tear fell onto the dusty ground.
V.
You can still visit Chuck’s Place. It’s still there. Chuck is a lot older now. Charlene had a recovery the locals called a “miracle” and given a clean bill of health by her doctors. Never been sick a day since, other than when the wind whips the pollen around, but that’s temporary. Doctor’s claimed the bed-rest and fresh air helped the healing and her excellent health since.
Chuck and Charlene just smile at each other and let people believe what they want.
They never mention their visitor to anyone. As far as they are concerned, it was just another empty rumor that had wrecked so many communities. Another conspiracy theory.
A few years after Charlene was up and around again, they had another child. Red-haired and hazel-eyed. They named her Rochelle. She grew up strong and healthy. You can catch her running the checkout counter most weekends. Usually surrounded by some of the local boys who hang on every word she says and watching for her heart-melting smile.
Rochelle doesn’t mind, as long as they keep buying stuff she can ring up.
The grave out back has become a sort of tourist destination now. You can see piles of crutches left there, and old wheelchairs stacked nearby. People say that there’s some healing properties in that old concrete cross and the ground nearby. But that’s just what they say.
If you ask Chuck, he’ll nod and agree with whatever you say. If you press him, he’ll say that we each have our road to walk in this life, and how we treat people is important.
If you ask Charlene or Rochelle, they just look off in the distance or at each other and smile.
Notes: While this isn’t a ghost story per se, this story spawned a large set of stories in the Ghost Hunter’s Book Universe. Originally, it was simply a standalone. But one day another what-if came along, and that red-haird healer Lazurai named Rochelle was again called into action. And now there is a series of these almost as big as the Ghost Hunter series itself. Because that healing virus spread…
And next week. we’ll bring you the next installment from our Ghost Hunters Primer. Stay tuned.