The Lazarus Effect

You have no idea how unnerving it is to see a man walking carefree down the street after you attended his funeral three years ago.  At first your mind thinks how much that fellow looks like George Lizenby did when he was alive, but then as this person gets closer, you know there is no mistaking who he is and every nerve in your body is on full alert. You take a quick picture and show it to your wife.

"Hal, that is one of your old photos." She laughs and waves you away.

"Look at the date, Liz." I point to the small writing that reveals today's date in the upper left corner where the frame of the photo ends.  She looks and frowns.

"There must be some mistake." She shakes her head, "My brother died three years ago."

"I know, we went to the funeral together." I put my hand on my chin.  I liked George.  He was a down to earth kind of guy just like his kid sister whom I married.

"If this is one of your pranks, Hal, it isn't very funny.  I loved my brother.  It was cruel watching him die of cancer at only forty years old." She put her finger on her cheek to catch a single tear.

"I would not ever do something like that, but when I saw this guy, I thought for sure it was your brother." I put my hand on hers, but she pulled her hand away.

"There is that thing where everybody has somebody that looks like them." She tried to smile, but failed miserably.

"Yes, it's called the Doppelganger Effect." I was hoping this would make her feel better, but the nightmare of her brother's slow deterioration with cancer until he could no longer control his bodily functions was nearly too much for Liz to handle and she wound up in therapy where the doctor put her on anxiety medication.  Those were some pretty hard months when I would come home from work and she had locked herself in the bathroom with a kitchen knife or razor.  There were also times I would wrestle the bottle of pills from her hand so she would not swallow the entire bottle and wash them down with some cheap whiskey.  With all that steaming through my mind, I questioned my judgement in showing her the photo, but I did not know who else to talk to. Now I was regretting it.

I knew George before Liz, because he and I were design engineers in a high tech company named Warlow Virtual Reality where we designed computer software.  One day George took his kid sister out to lunch for sushi.  One look at her classic rounded shape, her bobbed golden hair and her piercing baby blue eyes and I fell instantly in love.  I invited myself to lunch even though I did not care for raw fish and seaweed.  During the lunch we hit it off by telling stories of our parents and funny things they do from time to time.  Seeing what was taking place, George played the third wheel and said very little as he enjoyed his lunch and the lighthearted conversation.  Later that afternoon, he winked at me as the day was winding down.

“So what did you think of my sister?” He asked pretending to be stiff collared about it.

“I thought she was something.” I gave him my honest appraisal.

“Yeah seems the feeling is mutual.” He chuckled as he did a lot in those days. 

The cancer started when he turned thirty five and they found a small lump in his lung, but then it metastasized and through three years of chemo, the cancer grew worse until they decided the treatments were more painful than helpful.  He had just turned forty.

The next day when I went to the office, I saw him standing by a bus stop near the bank across the street.  He looked over and gave me a half wave before boarding the bus. No Doppelganger would wave.  It had to be George.  For the rest of the day, I stared out the window hoping he would return, but at quitting time I did not see George Lizenby get off a city bus.  

“Hey Hal, are you alright.” Abbie Chin asked me as I was clearing my desk.

“Fine, why?” I shook my head.

“You seemed like you were somewhere else all day.” She shrugged.  She was a nice person, but she wasn’t George.  I had to be careful with some of my off-colored humor that George and I enjoyed.  

“Just had a few things on my mind.  I’ll be fine tomorrow.” I smiled.

She did not return the smile, “Good, because the McCarthy project is due in a week and I feel like I’ve been working this alone.” 

That hurt, but I tried to shrug it off as she left for the day.  When I left and stepped onto the street, I saw him.  He was standing right in front of me.  This was no illusion, no trick of the light and definitely no doppelganger.

“Hello Hal.” He said in his cordial George voice.

“George.  Long time no see.” I tried to smile.

“You must have a few questions.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, more than a few as well.” I swallowed hard.

“C’mon let’s go to Perk Me Up, my treat.” He put his hand on my shoulder.  It was real, no illusion about it.

“Let me text Liz and let her know, I’m going to be late.” I pulled out my phone.

“Tell her I said ‘hi.’” He smiled as we began the block walk to the coffee place known as Perk Me Up. 

“I don’t think she’s ready for that.” I laughed, but it was not from the ironic humor, it was more of a “freak out” reaction. 

We sat in the nearly empty place both nursing a couple of mochas and he told me the story of the Lazarus Effect.

He told me about how after he passed away and was lying in the morgue, one of the doctors came in and decided that with some genetic monkeying around, he could bring George back to life like in the Bible when Jesus gets to the death of his friend three days too late and then he calls him from the tomb, “Lazarus come forth.”  This was a precursor to his own resurrection.  George told me this doctor took out the organs with the cancer on them and replaced them with organs he had grown in his laboratory.  Three days after the death certificate was signed, he woke up from the surgery, good as new.  He told me about one drawback.  He was going to age twice as fast, perhaps even faster, because the tissue’s DNA code had been set that way for some reason.  The research team was doing their best to isolate the gene and fix the “switch” as he was told.

“So what you are telling me is that you have what about ten years?” I felt numb inside when he got finished with his story. 

“Or less.” He nodded after finishing his mocha. 

“Not much of a deal.” I sighed.

“Do you know what was not much of a deal?  Dying of cancer.  Each day was misery.” His expression turned much more somber.  “Nobody asked me if I wanted to participate in this treatment.  I just woke up one morning as if nothing had happened.  And I was told of the problem. I have ten years that I didn’t have before.  How do you think I feel about this?”

“What about ten years from now when you have to say goodbye again?” I asked.  I could see from his reaction he was not pleased with the question.  

“At least we know, won’t we?” He snapped.

“Can I get you anything else?” The waitress asked/  We had been sitting there for over an hour and there were people filtering into the cafe. 

“No thanks.” I put my bank card on the table. 

“Be right back.” She smiled, picking up my card.

“So who is this genius?” I wanted to add Frankenstein, but I knew that would only cause more pain.

“Dr. Woodruff.” He answered, pulling a business card from his shirt pocket.

“Did you ever ask him why?” I could not help myself and once again George looked wounded.

“No.” He shook his head.

“I was wondering.  Lazarus was a friend of Jesus.” I signed the receipt the waitress put in front of me with my card.

“I was wondering if I could go see my sister.” He asked.

“I’m not sure she’s ready.” I sighed and put my card in my wallet.

“I want to see her and explain.” He insisted.

“I’d better warn her.” I pulled out my phone, but he put his hand on my arm preventing me.

“What would you tell her?” His face had been drained of any natural coloring.  

“You can’t just walk in and tell her you are back from the grave.” My tone was getting a bit edgy and hostile.

“The last time she saw me, I was using an adult diaper weighing under a hundred pounds.  Don’t you think she’d like to see me like this?” He followed me out into the street that was clogging with quitting time traffic.  

“What if she freaks out?  What if seeing you is too much for her to respond to?  It was hard enough for me.  I can’t imagine how she will react.” I said, removing my cell phone, “Let me text her with a picture.”

“Forget it.” He pushed his way past me, put up his hand and disappeared into a cab.

“This is Dr. Woodruff, can I help you?” He sounded friendly when I called him.

“Yes, I am Hal Stoddard.” I said quickly, “I am the brother-in-law of George Lizenby.”

“Ah Mr. Lizenby one of my success stories.” He sounded quite content.

“Success, how?” I asked sharply. “He will age and die in ten years.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Staddard, but I gave him ten years he didn’t have before I brought him back.” He was now on the defensive. “You should be grateful.” 

“Grateful?  Ten years from now we will be planning his second funeral.” I said. “We opted for a closed casket for the sake of the relatives, now I understand what was done.”

“Sir, that was your choice.  At the time of his service, George Lizenby was recovering from my procedure.” His voice was flat, emotionless, “We were pleased with the result since we had lost most of them.”

“How many?” I asked

“Pardon?” 

“How many procedures did you do before you got to my brother-in-law?” I now was not hiding my hostility. 

“An even dozen, but most of them were in bad shape when they came to me.” He answered.

“Does the hospital know what you are doing?” I asked as tears filled my eyes.

“What do you mean?” His voice now had an edge to it as he began to feel my anger.

“Who else knows about this Lazarus Effect?  Who else knows what’s going on with your procedure?” I closed my eyes and let my tears roll freely down my cheeks.

“Actually...no one.” I could tell he had to struggle to answer truthfully.

“So it’s kind of a mad scientist place where you try your procedure.” I had my answer.

“Yes, yes. All men seek immortality.” He insisted.

“But that’s not what you gave him.  That’s not what George Lizenby got is it?” My voice was now just a harsh whisper. 

“Sir, I do not understand why you are not grateful for what I did.  Ten years.  Ten years God took from him due to his cancer and here you are giving me the third degree.” Now his voice was filled with rage and anger.

“Grateful?  How dare you.  You have turned him into a monster.” I declared. “Now he will be seeing people who were at his funeral three years ago.  How do you think they will react when he shows up at their doors?  How would you feel if this happened to you?  How do you think those same people will feel when they have to say goodbye to him, because you screwed up the genetic coding so that he will age four times quicker than the rest of us.  It’s like he’s living in ‘dog years.’” 

“I gave him the gift of life.” He insisted.

“No doctor, you did nothing of the sort.  What you did was to give him time.  Time that will not even belong to him, not really.” I pressed the button so I would not have to listen to his response. Looking at my phone, I saw there were already ten calls that went to voicemail.  George Lizenby was getting around. I pressed the first call,  Aunt Ida’s voice came on the recording: 

Is this some kind of sick joke, Hal?  My nephew came to my door.  You know George Lizenby, the same person I went to his funeral three years ago.  You were there.  You must have remembered.

Next was Liz’s older brother Monty: 

I like a good prank as much as the next guy, but this guy who claimed to be my brother...are you serious?  This was a very sick joke...shame on you.

The rest were pretty much the same.  When I got home, Liz was waiting for me.  Her eyes were red from crying. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?” As if I didn’t know.

“Who was that awful man who came to the door claiming to be my brother, George?” She fell into my arms and sobbed against my shoulder.  

“I don’t know.” I lied.

“He claimed you two had coffee at the Perk Me Up.” She sobbed.

“It’s true.” I admitted.

“Why did you not warn me?” 

“I didn’t know what to tell you.” I held her closer. 

“Something would have been nice.” 

I sat her down at the kitchen table and explained the Lazarus Effect and what Dr. Woodruff had done.  She did not say anything until I finished.  I even told her about my phone conversation with Dr. Woodruff.

“He is a monster.” She said in her initial assessment.

“He’s alive.  He has ten years before he starts to physically deteriorate.” I assured her.

“So we will have to go through this all over again?” Her face became hard and her blue eyes burned with anger. 

“Yes.” I sighed.

“I loved George.  He was the best brother ever, but I cannot accept this thing that claims he’s my brother.” She confessed staring out the window into the garden in the backyard. 

“What do you want me to do?” I asked looking into her eyes. 

“Whatever it is must be destroyed.” She said flatly.

“Destroyed?”

“Destroyed.  This is an abomination.  My brother deserves to rest in peace, his memory honored by those who loved him. Do you have the means?” She asked and I nodded my head affirmatively. “Can you do it?”

“Murder?”

“Not murder, returning him to his natural state.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

When I got to Warlow Virtual Reality, I was greeted with a lot of odd expressions as I walked to my office.  Mr. Warlow saw me pass by,

“Mr. Stoddard, a moment, please.” He called out to me just when I thought I had managed to get by without notice. 

“Yes sir?” 

“I got a call from George Lizenby on my phone.  Do you know anything about it?” His face was twisted in befuddlement. 

“No sir, just some prankster.” I shrugged, not wishing to put any weight or suspicion on the matter.

“Hmpt.” He nodded and returned to his office. 

I sat down and Ms Chin stared at me.

“What?” I finally could not take it anymore.

“George Lizenby called me on my extension.” She informed me.

“Prank, I’m sure.” I opened my folder on our project.

I saw the blinking light on my phone and I picked it up to play the recorded message, “Hey Hal, I thought we’d have lunch together. I have contacted a lot of people on my old contact list.” It was him.  Stepping outside my office into the hall, I dialed George.  He answered on the first ring.

“Hey Hal.” His voice nearly sang.

“Lunch sounds great.  Can you come by about noon?” I asked.

“Sure, sure, noon it is.” 

Click. 

Prompt as he always was, George came into my office after passing the gathering crowd of employees.  Smiling I picked up my phone and followed him out the door.  Those who were still in the office watched us as we walked out into the street.  My heart was pounding, but I knew what I had to do.

Walking on the sidewalk, the noon express bus would be barreling down the street before we got to the bistro.  Seeing it approaching quickly from my peripheral, I used my shoulder to push George Lizenby into the direct path of the speeding bus.  He did not have a chance and the effect was complete.  There would be no chance for anyone to put back the pieces of shattered body lying in the road as the sirens sounded.  As one of the policemen talked to me, I heard one of the other officers grumble, “Ah man, what a mess.”

“Terrible accident, officer.” I concluded as he nodded and let me go. Instead of the bistro, I went to the bar I sometimes went to after work.

“Man did you see that accident?” The bartender asked as he put scotch in front of me.

“Terrible.  Terrible.” I watched as they put his body on the gurney covered with a sheet.  It was over.  George Lizenby had returned once again to his natural form and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men would not be able to put Humpty Dumpty together again.