The Azrael: The Reckoning (9 page)

“It’s been about thirty minutes since she’s been bit.  I think she’s fine.”  Jason added.

“So, uh, could I get cleaned up please?”  She asked.  The old man had fallen asleep during most of the conversation.

“Oh, right.  Let me just put these on.  Just in case.  Don’t want to cause any infections.”  The doctor opened his eyes and responded appropriately as if he does it all the time.  He searched for and retrieved gloves.  Savanna knew that he was mostly worried about getting infected himself. She didn’t blame him.  She’d do the same thing.  What bothered her is that he lied about it.  She hates men that lie.  That’s why she loved John.  He’s an open book.

The doctor removed the old bandage, cleaned and applied a new sterilized dressing on her bite wound.  Mario and the others worked on a new plan.  However, they needed a few days to recover and get a better grasp on the full scope of the outbreak.

At the farm, isolated from man and the Azrael, Randall awoke again confined to his room.  His little friend, he named Brooke, continued her attachment to her alpha.  He thought the name was fitting since she enjoyed hunting near the brook.  As Randall’s mind slept locked in a room Brooke continued to hunt throughout the night and often times several meals were lying near the door to his room. 

Randall wondered what she thought as he locked himself up only to be banging on the door minutes later in a blinding rage.  He took solace in thinking that her mind understood, but her body didn’t give a shit what was going on.  It only latched onto the dominance that Randall asserts through mind and body through pheromones.

It had been weeks since they met and today seemed like every other day living within this blissful isolation.  He unlocked the locks and opened the door.  Brooke was staring at herself in the full body mirror right in front of the door to Randall’s room.  It startled him since she did not react to his presence nor did she have a meal set down near the door.  Her face was covered in fresh blood and her eyes were incredibly focused on her own eyes in the reflection.  He noticed a tear escape her right eye and it slowly merged with the mask of blood on her face.  The aroma was different in the air than usual and his attention was drawn towards the front door.  Something was wrong.

He nudged past Brooke and rubbed his fingers through her hair as he pat her head.  She still maintained her gaze in the mirror even with physical contact.  The stink of Azrael was on the porch along with a familiar aroma.  He knew one day they would find him.  He just didn’t want it to be today.  He pushed open the screen door and it creaked as the spring stretched.  On the porch a three year old girl was feeding on a corpse of an adult woman.  Blood coated her tiny frame.  A distinct bulge hung low on the young child’s belly indicating a hefty meal.  A faint hint of fish oil was in the air and Randall knew who these people were and why they would be there.  The child had a faint bite mark on her right leg in the size of Brooke’s mouth.  It had healed but a piece of the scab was still there.  The woman’s jugular was still oozing blood that saturated the wood plank of the porch and dripped onto the grass below.  He felt sickened by the scene that reminded him of the world that he lives in, a world that he thought he left behind.  He turned to walk back into the house and was startled to see Brooke in the doorway.  She stared at him, rubbed at her wrists below the shackles and gazed within his grey eyes. 

Brooke dropped her eyes and commenced to hiss at the child on the porch.  She leapt on top of the little girl and knocked her off of the body.  She clutched the woman’s leg and dragged her body towards the back.  Randall knew what she was doing and didn’t care to start his day feasting on a woman’s corpse on the picnic table.  The young Azrael girl followed behind staggering unsure footed.  The weight of the meat in her gut caused her to be uneven.  Randall rounded the corner of the house and watched as Brooke struggled to pull her body on the table.  He didn’t know what he had to do.  He knew he had to stop this, but didn’t know how.   The young Azrael climbed on top of the corpse and started to feed again as Brooke was still attempting to pull the body on the table.

A small hint of fish carried in the breeze leaving the woods beyond the picnic table about one-hundred yards away.  Randall knew it came from humans, living humans.  An instant later the young Azrael girl’s head exploded and the body convulsed as it fell to the ground.  The noise of the shot was muffled, as if it escaped a silenced high powered rifle.  Brooke was in danger. 

Randall sprinted towards her and he heard three more shots.  All three missed their mark but did manage to splinter the picnic table on the corner near Brooke.  She finally realized the direction of the gunshots and stood up growling at the threat.  Randall managed to grab her just before a lethal round connected.  He heard the heartbeats of the shooters quicken as they saw Randall enter the scene.  Randall continued to sprint carrying Brooke on his right shoulder and managed to find cover within the woods nearby away from the danger.  He heard voices in the distance as he fled.

“Fuck!  Did you see that?”  A man shouted.

“Whatever, it’s gone now.  Did you see my shot?  Jesus Christ.  It popped like a pimple.”  A younger man gloated about his kill and they shared a laugh.

“That was one hell of a shot.   Check and see if you can recognize the body.”

The young man left the cover of the woods and strolled towards the picnic table with swag.  His comrade kept a vigilante eye surrounding his friend.

“Fuck, Fucking shit.  It’s Bridgette.  Oh no.  No, no no.”  The young man paused for a moment.  “Maya.”  He spoke softly afflicted with shock, leaned over and vomited in the grass.  He continued to retch for several minutes.

“What?  Did you say Bridgette?” The man left his cover as well and walked towards the picnic table to get a second look at the corpse.  “What the fuck!  Why did they come back?  She called us.  She knew it was here.” He placed his left hand on top of his head and shook his head with disbelief.

“I shot Maya.”  The young man spoke as his eyes seemed to gaze through her twitching corpse.

“You shot an Azrael.” He corrected.

“I know what they fucking are.  But it was Maya.  Those sick fucking Azrael.  They’ve taken everything from me.  She’s three, not even old enough to go to school.  She can’t even tie her own fucking shoes yet.”  The man began to weep.  “Jesus!”

“Dude, she knew the risk coming back.  Bridgette should have known better.” 

“It’s my fault Shawn.  I told her we’d take care of it last week.  She thought it was clear.  Also, the outbreak in the city, we barely escaped before it happened.  I forgot to call her.  I forgot to call.  It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.  She should have called you to make sure before coming back.  It’s not your fault.” Shawn noticed his friend removing his pistol.  “Hey, wait, wait, wait!  Don’t do anything stupid man.  You don’t even know if she was your daughter. ”

“Maya, my little girl.”

“Pierce stop!”  Shawn shouted.

A single gunshot echoed through the woods from an unsilenced pistol.

Randall froze and listened.  An eerie silence flooded the landscape as a weak whimper slowly pushed through.  Sounds of several feet running through the woods towards the house confirmed Randall’s belief that the Azrael were everywhere.  Minutes later screams were heard and the other shooter had found the end to his peaceful world. 

The sound of the brook nearby slowly drowned out the sounds of death from beyond the trees.  Brooke was squirming and tried to escape his grip.  Randall waded into the creek and laid Brooke in the water.  She kicked and splashed as she entered the clear run.   Randall fully submerged her within the stream and she appeared pacified.  The blood slowly washed away and Brooke stared into his eyes beneath the water.  Her hair danced in the current and brought calm to Randall’s heart.  He pulled her out and let her go.  She crouched and grunted in the shallow stream.  The mud stirred below and turned the water a murky brown.  Moments later Brooke pulled her arm out of the stream with a snapping turtle attached to it.  It was a massive thirty pound beast that smelled a lot like breakfast to Randall.  He walked over and lowered the turtle back into the water until it released its bite.  He lifted it by its tail with his left hand and pulled Brooke out of the water with his right.  After clearing the picnic area of dead bodies they enjoyed another great breakfast together.

Randall wondered if and when another human encounter would take place at the house.  He thought about the risk of staying versus the risk of leaving.  Was it worth relocating in hopes that he would find another place isolated for the most part from society with a room that he could lock himself up in.  He couldn’t guarantee he would find another place similar and decided to stay.  However, he did need to figure out how to control Brooke, especially while he slept.  Unfortunately, the tactics for training a wild animal is much tougher when the Azrael virus is part of the problem.  Randall is still figuring out his capabilities and limitations as an awakened Azrael.  He also pondered ways to possibly awaken Brooke, but he was still unsure what exactly caused his reconnection with his own body.  Was it the lightning or was it something else entirely?

A loud explosion followed by the building shaking caused Steven and the other foster kids to run to the back windows.  When the explosion happened he knew that something was terribly wrong and that the soldier on his floor was only a fragment as lethal as Giselle.  He didn’t feel safe, nor did he feel confident in the security of the building.  They were told that something bad happened by the adults that worked there.  The alarms earlier that day prompted relentless questions by the children even before the explosion.  Eventually, one of the adults broke the silence and said that ‘
it’s getting a little crazy out there’
.  That was it.  Steven knew that there was more to it.  The other kids were satisfied with that answer, he was not.

One of the workers walked over, peeked out the window and brought down the blinds.

“It’s story time everyone.”  Miss Tandy instructed gesturing to bring it in.  Steven didn’t want to listen to a story.  He wanted to hide.  Every fiber of his being told him something was going to happen soon.  Power flickered and everyone, including the soldier, looked around uneasy.

“I want mommy.”  A little girl named Trixie cried out.  She was only four and carried around her stuffed bunny everywhere.  She called it Tootsie.  Trixie arrived the same day as Steven.  Her parents were found hanging in their rooms.  A note was left for her big brother to take care of her.  He didn’t know why they hung themselves or why anyone would do such a thing. 

Trixie found them the next morning and clung onto her mother’s dead body until her brother, Charlie, showed up.  He brought her there to be safe while he worked.  The daycare center on the floor below them was full so they worked out a deal that she could be taken care of with the foster kids while he worked.  Charlie worked construction, helping to fortify the walls.

She asked Miss Giselle why she was wearing glasses at night when she was dropping Steven off.

“To hide these.”  Giselle emphasized taking a knee and lowered her glasses.

“Cool.  I want those too.”  Trixie responded pointing at her eyes and opening hers real wide.

“Your eyes are beautiful just as they are.”  Giselle insisted while poking her nose.  The girl blushed and skipped off dancing with her bunny.

Miss Giselle felt confident that this was a safe place for Steven to be where he could be a kid once more and have a somewhat normal childhood.  Steven didn’t argue.  He had no choice.  He was a child.  She kept to her promise, though.  She kept him safe beyond the walls of Chicago.  However, it wasn’t safe inside either. 

Some of the people in the building were there when it all started.  They hadn’t been beyond the walls.  “They let their guard down and it’s gonna bite them in the butt.”  He predicted.

“Steven, Sweetie, come over here.”  Miss Tandy noticed Steven near the back window talking to himself again.  She knew his story and didn’t want him to be afraid.

“I’m coming.”  Steven walked over lazily and plopped down crossing his legs. 

“This is the story of…”  The lights flickered a few times again and then went completely dark.  The backup lighting kicked in immediately dimly lighting the entire floor.  You could hear a pin drop it was so quiet.

“So…uh, this is a story of Cinderella.”  Miss Tandy continued to read the book.  She struggled to read due to the poor lighting, but continued nonetheless.  Steven thought she was doing it more to calm herself than it was to calm the children.  She stuttered and stammered with every other word.  She was afraid.

A scratchy voice exited the soldier’s walky-talky.  Something about the Azrael came through and he lowered the volume immediately while looking around to see if anyone heard it.  He huddled near the door talking to the radio.  Seconds later he clipped the radio to his belt, removed his pistol and aimed it towards the door.

Everyone inside began to panic.  The children all huddled close to Miss Tandy.  Steven didn’t bother, she was weak.  She couldn’t protect them.  Shrieks and howls in the stairwell caused everyone to tremble with fear.  The soldier’s hands were shaking as he aimed his pistol towards the door.  Steven retreated to his room and hid in the closet.  It had saved him before.

“We need to puh-puh-place furniture in front of the duh-duh-door.”  The soldier stuttered as he tried to give instruction.  His demeanor didn’t scream confidence in the least bit.  Five of the other workers brought desks, chairs, a large sofa and placed them in front of the door in no real strategic way. 

After fifteen minutes of silence a loud bang struck the door.  It was vicious and powerful.  The furniture pile scooted back a few inches and a few chairs fell from the top of the pile.  With each strike, the poorly placed furniture barricade scooted further and further from the door and more unsecure items tumbled to the ground.  The pounding increased slightly.  A gun shot silenced the room as everyone cuffed their ears form the sharp noise that resonated throughout the floor.  The soldier shot by mistake as he held the pistol inappropriately, completely going into the black and forgetting his basic training.  His finger rubbed the trigger as if it would calm him.  His mistake drew even more Azrael to their floor pounding the door fiercely.  Miss Tandy still attempted to read the book as all the children cried out.  She had tunnel vision as shock began to shut her down.

When Steven heard the gunshot he knew everyone on his floor was doomed.  He knew how the Azrael reacted to loud noises.  He thought about Trixie and how scared she must have been.  It provided him a moment of courage and he darted out of the closet, ran into the main room and saw Azrael arms reaching through the broken door.  Adults were pushing the furniture back in place against the door, fighting the strength of the Azrael.  They didn’t stand a chance.

“Trixie!  Hey, Trixie, over here.”  Steven called over to her.  She was clinging onto the weak woman as if she could save her from anything.  Trixie ignored Steven.

“Trixie.”  Again she ignored him.

“You’re all going to die.”  He hollered, angry that his friends were hiding behind the weak nice people.  As he retreated back into the closet he remembered what Miss Gisselle said.

“Nice people don’t live long out here anymore.”
  Now, more than any time before, her statement made sense to Steven.  She was right.  He also would like to add
‘the weak don’t survive out here too.’

Steven remembered the stuff Miss Giselle used to hide her smell to the Azrael.  He remembered smelling something like it in the bathroom.  It wasn’t exactly the same smell but it was something other than his aroma.  He ran into the bathroom, located pills of fish oil and brought them back in his closet.  The banging on the door in the other room intensified.  He had trouble figuring out how to open the bottle.  He had to crack the door open to see so that he could align the arrow to the opening in the lip of the bottle.  He popped the top open with his thumb, success.  He immediately crushed the pills and rubbed the liquid all over him.

Gunshots returned.  This time it was consecutive as if there was actually a target to shoot.  The screams in the other room intensified and mixed with Azrael shrieks.  He heard lots of footsteps moving all over the place along with screaming and banging on the door outside his room.  Stay quiet, he told himself.  Everyone was screaming.  He heard Miss Tandy cry out as an Azrael bit into her.  The cries of the children haunted Steven’s thoughts.  Out of the screams he heard Trixie.  Her sweet soft voice.  He tried to save her.  Did he try hard enough?  Was he still safe? 

The screams slowly died off as did the sound of a struggle.  They were all gone. Steven could smell the Azrael’s scent seeping into his room and beneath the door of the closet.  He saw shadows move beneath it as the Azrael moved about the place seeking more people to infect.  He could hear them breathing.  Their raspy breaths hissed in the air causing him to cringe.  He heard chewing, groaning and tearing of flesh.  He hoped his plan with the fish oil worked.  Footsteps neared his room.  They were rummaging through his stuff while sniffing everything.  Footsteps approached the door as the sound of its smelling intensified.  He was found, but he dared not move.  The shadow of the figure beyond the closet door completely blackened the light from below the door.  The door pressed inwards towards Steven.  He heard the Azrael’s nostrils inhale the aroma of him at the bottom of the door.  Did he smell Steven or fish?  It backed away from the door, grunted and ran back into the main room.   A dim light returned below the closet door once more.  Steven released an audible sigh.

After a few hours the stench of Azrael dissipated.  Steven didn’t trust his sense of smell.  He knew they were still out there, waiting for him to leave so they could eat him.  Steven wasn’t weak or strong.  He was smart.  He’s going to survive.

The dark closet beckoned Steven to sleep.  Sounds of other floors losing their battle with the ever increasing Azrael army terrified Steven.  How could he sleep with all of the chaos outside?  How could he lower his guard with the monsters lurking around outside the closet door?  Where did Miss Giselle go?  Would she find him again?  No, she was gone.  She had more important things to do than protect him.  Steven felt weak, afraid and without hope.  Accepting his fate, he eventually dropped his guard to fall asleep alone in the dark with monsters lingering outside.  He may be weak, but he is alive.  He could live with that, he thought, as he fell victim to darkness and entered his imagination crafted into dreams.