Project Lazarus by Michelle Packard

hell.
     
    She took a deep breath and put the cold compress on her friend’s head.
     
    Slowly, Emma revived.
     
    “Dear Lord,” Emma whispered, “what do we do now?”
     
    “Good God,” Audra whispered, “we wait.”
     
    Sherriff Traves had taken too many phone calls.   His coffee was cold and his patience was thick but wearing thin.
     
    Commander Gilten, from the military base in charge of Project Lazarus, ordered him to gather all his policemen and collect the now living dead.
     
    “Find out their address.  Get their name.  And ask them how many they see,” he ordered Sharon Tenner, a petite blonde in her twenties, his secretary of less than three months.
     
    Until that day, Sharon felt rather intimidated by the Sherriff Traves and the work load, incompetent and in way over her head.   But now she felt in command and assured, after all, this disaster was the ultimate job security.  Sherriff Traves needed her help.  The whole town of Cotter did.
     
    Sherriff Traves stood in front of over fifty men in the small auditorium.  It was packed with under-sheriffs, policemen and a few rescue volunteers.
     
    He was a stocky man with brown hair, glasses and a quiet but stern voice.  He was elected as Sherriff nearly five years ago, when his predecessor, Sherriff Umpter decided to retire.  He held the position because the people of Baxter County new him and trusted him.  They re-elected him and he was very proud of that accomplishment.  Of course there was a lot of politics that went along with his success but it was the lesser of two evils.  He made it his business to get to know the residents, the people in Baxter County Arkansas and he gained their respect.
     
    He knew local farmers by name.  He knew how many kids played basketball in a household.  He helped moms in trouble and kids stay out of trouble.  And now the town of Cotter was looking to him for answers, perhaps all of Baxter County.  He was briefed shortly by military, FBI and CIA who he dealt with often in the past but not in this capacity.  This was an epidemic of sorts.  No, a disaster.
     
    He would have an official meeting later that afternoon and more men were coming in for re-enforcement, so he was assured.  But he was leaving nothing to chance.
     
    He cleared his throat, shuffled through some papers and stood behind the podium, adjusting the microphone to his liking.
     
    The men and women before him looked just as frightened as the voices on the other end of the phone.  They were dealing with something that had never happened in the world’s history, except perhaps in Biblical times.  Although, this felt like a Biblical warning and not a Biblical miracle.
     
    “So, let’s get started then,” he began, the crowd before him rapt with attention.
     
    If he ever doubted his ability as a leader, now was not the time.
     
    “You’ve got some confidential top priority material in your hands there and by now you’ve read it.  So, I’ll just briefly go over the facts.  Project Lazarus is a top secret military project on the outskirts of Cotter.  It’s been active for five years now.  The goal of this project was to raise a man from the dead.  Several days ago, this goal was accomplished.”
     
    The hush of the crowd was unbelievable.  They listened with such intensity, flying bullets might really go through them and past them.
     
    One woman, a veteran police officer made the sign of the cross in reaction to the revelation.
     
    “I know it’s a lot to take in here folks.  But let’s get to the what do we do now part.  We’ve been advised to gather these people up.  We’ve already coordinated their whereabouts based the hundreds of phone calls we’ve received.  We’ve been provided special buses, extra handcuffs and chains.”
     
    One man, a rescue volunteer in the audience, widened his eyes, he knew they were out of their league.  Why wasn’t the government here to clean up their own mess?
     
    Drops