by Jesse Gagnon
“Fuck you.”
“I deserved that. But hear me out.”
“Fuck you Jane.” Giselle interrupted.
“Okay I get the point.
“I saved you?” She interrupted again shaking her head with disgust.
“It’s what I was hired to do, study the Azrael. Studying one strapped to a table served me no purpose. My area of expertise is primal instincts of animals. I studied what drove them to hunt, how they hunted and how they interacted with each other. Azrael don’t talk.”
“Yeah, whatever. I don’t know Jane.”
“You don’t know what?”
“I don’t’ know if I can trust you.” Giselle walked away shaking her head. The Azrael beyond the window banged on it more aggressively. The pheromones in the air from Giselle’s anger entered their senses and excited them.
“I never lied to you Giselle. I told you I was a doctor.”
“But you left out the part about starting the Chicago Outbreak.” Giselle stepped towards Jane and pointed outside. Her face was hard and her voice was angry.
“You wouldn’t have taken me with you if I told you that. Would you?” Jane looked directly into her eyes and waited for a response.
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have. I would have said, Fuck you Bitch. Have a taste of karma.”
“Exactly. But that’s not how it happened. We’re in here, safe and we can help each other.”
“How can you help me?”
“You said it yourself. I can study you. Keep close tabs on any changes in your biology. Who knows what else I can discover about you that you don’t already know.”
Giselle turned away and leaned her forehead on the glass. She peered down at the legs of the Azrael. The intense banging caused her head to bounce off of the glass slightly. She noticed a small child Azrael banging on the window as well. It held a dirty and torn rabbit stuffed animal in one hand. It was wearing pajamas and its eyes were staring intently into Giselle’s eyes. She was saddened by the state of this world.
“Fine. Let’s see if we can fix this.” Giselle recognized the girl and it troubled her but Jane didn’t deserve to know. It was her fault.
“Well, I don’t know if I can fix…”
“The world.” Giselle finished Janes sentence again. “Shoot for the stars Jane. Let’s try to fix the world from this shit.” Giselle walked away from the window and grabbed her bag. Jane noticed the little girl with the bunny and brought her hand to her face in horror. She began to cry. That poor child, she thought.
Giselle walked passed her, opened the door with her pistol in hand. Her first shot splattered the brains of the Azrael girl on the window as five more shots silenced the remaining. “Let’s move.” Giselle gestured Jane to hurry.
“How…” Jane choked up. “do you do it?” Jane asked while walking towards the door and stepped over the seizing Azrael.
“Stay out here long enough. Now keep up.”
Giselle said and darted outside and headed towards the church. Several minutes later they located the Alpha and Jane removed the camera from its head carefully. She inspected it. Other than the cracked lens, it still worked. The display came to life when she turned it on. A low battery warning blinked and it powered down.
“Need to get it charged and take a look at the video.” Jane cheered while lifting the camera like a trophy.
“Over there.” A small herd found them and began to hurry towards them. “We’ll worry about that later. Now move.”
They managed to escape the small herd and headed back towards the front gate of the Chicago District. They stayed on back roads and moved quietly. Giselle’s enhanced senses allowed them to avoid Azrael encounters.
Chapter 18
Steven’s Adventure
A faint screaming entered Steven’s dream. He was battling a dragon with a sturdy shield and sword. He wondered where the woman was that was in trouble. He noticed the dragon take in a deep breath and released a mouthful of scorching fire towards him. His shield was already up and blocking the scorching flame. The force of the blast was weighing down on his shield. He kept it in place despite the force pushing him and causing him to slide backwards in the loose rocky dirt beneath his feet. The screaming persisted and he wondered where it was coming from. Someone was in danger and he needed to help them.
The blast from the dragon’s breath ceased and Steven lowered his shield.
“Ha, it’s going to take a lot more than that to kill me dragon!” He yelled out.
The screams continued and he knew that he didn’t have time to stay and slay the dragon. Maybe next time, he thought. He escaped behind a large rock and found a small path that led down into the town below. The screams persisted. The sound of flapping wings behind alerted him that the dragon took flight. The sound of the wings slowly faded into the distance as the dragon escaped into the sky to prepare for their next battle. He glanced back to confirm the dragon’s whereabouts and saw a distant shadow in the sky retreating. The screaming woman intensified and he continued his approach on the village in the valley. He slid down a steep drop off of loose dirt and rock keeping his balance until he hit the bottom. As he reached the village the silence beyond that of the woman screaming troubled him. He held onto his shield tight and maintained a firm grip on the short sword in his right hand.
As Steven ventured through the village, he failed to locate the exact source of the screaming. It surrounded him in all directions. He called out.
“Ma’am, I’m here to help.” Steven still searched for any movement. A figure in the corner of his eye caught his attention. But as he turned to face whatever it was it disappeared behind the houses to his right as quick as it came.
Steven bravely continued his pursuit moving faster towards whatever threat awaited him. He was not afraid. The wail of the woman continued to elude him, but the new threat was his new concern. Maybe they knew where the woman was.
As he rounded the corner of the building he noticed a group of men a few houses down surrounding a body on the ground near the stable that served as a dead end for the dirt road that led to it. Houses on both sides of the road were all joining and cropped the road ahead like a wall. Steven turned around. The road continued behind him a ways and ended to another dead end about a football field’s length away. Houses on both sides of the road connected, serving as a wall on both sides. Suddenly, his exit to the road he came from vanished. He was trapped within the barriers of the houses. They seemed to grow in size as he worried about them.
The men were now on top of the body, eating it. The woman’s scream continued to carry in the air. The men were not men at all, but Azrael. He worried for the woman that screamed and gripped his sword tighter. He was not afraid of them. He charged in leading with his shield and held his sword behind him as it served to off-balance the weight of the shield in front of him.
The Azrael stopped feasting and spun to face him. They were caked in blood and chewed on whatever they had torn out from the body below. He heard a shrieking howl and footsteps as they charged towards him equally unafraid. Unexpectedly, there were twenty of them, then fifty. He was afraid. There were too many. He would be bitten. He slackened his advance and recognized it was a battle that he could not win.
One of the Azrael looked like Miss Giselle. She sized him up as though he was lunch. Her eyes, those zombie eyes. The Azrael stopped approaching and parted to reveal the body on the ground. The wail of the woman screamed even louder and he noticed that it was his mother in the dirt being eaten. He focused all of his attention on his mother. She continued to scream as her insides were laying outside her body while large chunks were missing completely. The Azrael disappeared, although their shrieks in the distance persisted. His mother stared at him with zombie eyes still releasing a terrifying cry. The sky grew dark and shadows began to swallow up the village, casting it into the Darkness. He heard the screams.
The smell of fish increasingly entered his nose and the environment began to slowly take sh
ape. He smelled laundry, leather shoes and something else. The room was dark but a faint light below the door in front of him offered the only assumption that he was back in the closet again. However, the screaming was still there. In the distance beyond his door and outside the room a woman wailed. Faint footsteps still clattered down the steps of the stairwell in pursuit. He looked in his hands. His dream had given him bravery he knew he didn’t actually have. He faced the wrath of a dragon’s breath and charged into a group of Azrael unafraid. Why was he so afraid now? He needed a weapon. Weapons give people strength. It allowed Miss Giselle to kill so many Azrael before. He thought if he should touch a weapon. He’s only a child. Children don’t play with guns. He wasn’t going to play with it. He was going to kill the Azrael with it. The world isn’t what it was before. Steven had to survive and to survive meant that he needed a gun.
The domino effect of thoughts that led to his desire for a weapon brought courage within Steven. He placed his right ear on the door and listened. The intense shriek began to fade away. He backed away from the door and heard nothing at all. He placed his other ear on the door and heard nothing but a soft hum of the ventilation system. He pulled his head away from the door and listened for anything else that he might have missed. After listening and waiting in the closet for what seemed like a few hours Steven’s bladder made the decision for him sending him a sharp pain in his stomach. As he opened the door he wondered when the last time he used the bathroom was. He scurried towards the bathroom and shut the door quietly behind him. His answer came as he relieved himself for what seemed like forever. He worried that the sound of the liquid hitting the toilet water would alert the Azrael lurking in corners beyond his sight. As he finished he was relieved when the sound of silence greeted him.
He knew better than to flush and walked over, ran the sink water at a slow trickle, applied hand soap and washed his hands. With a world spiraling into chaos he still felt the need for good hygiene. He dried his hands on his pants wiping the front and backs of his hands hoping to soak up the excess water he hadn’t wiggled off. He thought about survival and scooped up some water and drank it from his cupped hands not knowing where his next drink would come from. He shut the water off and walked over to the door. He placed an ear to the door and listened for anything out of place. When nothing jumped out at him, literally, he opened the door and walked out in search of a weapon, preferably a gun.
Parts and pieces of people littered the place everywhere. A brisk breeze entered from the door that led to the stairs. It carried an aroma of death from a window probably broken during an Azrael breach. There was no way to tell which floor it was coming from but Steven knew it was only a matter of time before the whole place collapsed from Azrael attacks.
A sense of urgency hit Steven as he searched the area for a weapon. Two dead Azrael lied on the floor riddled with gunshot wounds to the body. As he moved closer he noticed a hole in each of their heads oozing a milky gray liquid that escaped their brains beneath. Their smell was rotten. However, their clothes were nice despite the blood and holes in them. They must have been infected while at some party or attending a formal event, he thought. It reminded him of his parents dressing up before they went out to a funeral. It was a vague memory that only involved what they were wearing and who it was for, Grandma. He thought of funerals today and how many were long overdue. Would he have a funeral when he died? He thought to himself. The importance of that answer diminished when he located a gun on the ground underneath a bookcase that housed several children’s books. He moved a book off of it. It was Cinderella. He picked up the gun. It was much heavier than what he expected. He examined it and remembered seeing Miss Giselle clean hers. He brought it back to his room and laid it on his bed. He sat on his knees beside it and examined the gun pointing it towards the headboard.
A lever was on the top right corner of it and revealed a red dot. Steven didn’t know what it meant and toggled the lever over hiding the dot. He moved it back to where it was, revealing the red dot again and pondered the meaning. He left it like it was. He pushed the button on the handle near the trigger and the bullet holder thing popped out. He removed it and noticed that there were bullets in it. He spun the thing holding the bullets around to see if he could tell how many were inside. He saw some notches and numbers on them but they were worn off so he couldn’t read them. He decided that he couldn’t’ tell and began to put it back into the gun. He jammed it inside but it didn’t catch. He pushed harder thinking he wasn’t applying enough force, still nothing. He pulled it and realized he was putting it in backwards, turned it around and pushed it back in. It clicked and held. There was another lever towards the middle of the gun just above the button that ejected the bullet holder thing. It did nothing that he could see when he moved it. He decided it wasn’t important and left it alone. The back of the gun he knew was the part that makes it go bang. He didn’t touch it. Also, he avoided touching the trigger when he grabbed it in case it shot by mistake. He didn’t want to waste bullets or alert the Azrael that a human was still left on his floor unless he needed to use it. He picked it up off of the bed carrying it in his right hand. He held it around the handle and could barely reach the trigger with one hand. He decided that he would use both hands, one holding the gun while the other pulled the trigger when he needed to use it.
Steven pointed the gun in front of him and immediately felt powerful. He moved forward and exited his room aiming the gun intently in front of him. He walked towards the door that exited the floor into the stairwell outside. The breeze of the broken window surrounded him in the doorway and gave him goosebumps from the cold. The direction of the breeze came to the right and from up the steps. He walked up carefully aiming the gun in front of him. He followed the breeze one floor up and found the door to the floor wide open with several dead Azrael bodies on the ground. Steven carefully walked over them aiming the gun at their heads as he stepped through them. None of them moved. This floor was set up differently. It had a long hallway that had individual apartment rooms lining it. This must have been where individual families lived. Miss Tandy lived up there somewhere. He imagined she was out on the streets searching for someone to bite into. Most of the doors to the rooms were wide open. Blood, broken stuff and a shower curtain littered the hallway. He wondered about the shower curtain. What a horrible time to be fighting for your life, wet and naked. The curtain had splashes of wet blood on it indicating a struggle of some sort.
Steven continued his course towards the source of the breeze. As he approached a room labeled 1216 he felt the pressure effect of the window. He walked in, still listening for threats. He saw the window in question. It was a massive kitchen window that provided a fantastic view of the city. It was completely shattered and whistled as the draft passed through the room. He walked over to it and carefully poked his head through peeking down at the ground. Four dead bodies lied on the concrete below, two adults and two kids. Blood was still pooling beneath them indicating that it happened a short time ago. He pulled his head back after feeling sharp pains on his ears and face from the cold breeze that assaulted the side of the building.
Steven Thought about that family that chose death instead of the infection. Was that brave or was it being weak? He didn’t know the answer. A sound of scratching caught his attention and he pointed his gun at the source. He trembled from the cold and maybe from fear. He told himself that it was from the cold and it comforted him slightly. As he drew near to the noise it started to get louder. Another noise accompanied the scratching, it was a small yelp.
Within the same room 1216, Steven continued his inspection and isolated it down to the hall passed the kitchen area. Three doors were open while the one closest was closed. The closed door was different than the others and after opening it he determined that it was a linen closet full of blankets, pillows and bed sheets. He closed the door quietly. The scratching amplified followed by two louder yelps. He moved forward inching carefully towards what could be his end, b
ut he had a gun. The door on the right was open and as he walked in he saw a small Pomeranian scratching at a door in the corner. It barked twice and continued to scratch. Something was in there.
“Hey boy.” Steven assumed it was a boy. “Is something in there?” The dog noticed him and barked. It returned to the door and continued to scrape its paws at the bottom of it.
“If anyone is in there, I have a gun. I will shoot you if I have to.” He wasn’t sure if what he said was the right thing or not. He got his point across anyway. “I’m opening the door.”
Steven pulled the door open and as it swung open a hint of Azrael entered Steven’s nostrils. He swerved the gun up with both hands as he released the door to his right. It twisted towards him and grabbed at him surprised at Steven’s presence. Its breath was rotten and was the source of the stench inside. Steven aimed up at its head and pulled the trigger. The shot struck the back wall near the ceiling completely missing the Azrael. It opened its mouth wide and hissed out foul breath while scowling. It continued its approach still holding a chunk of meat from someone’s insides in its left hand. Steven pulled the trigger seven more times until the gun clicked. He kept pulling the trigger only providing a click with each. His eyes were stuck staring into its milky eyes as it stood only three feet away but unmoving. The Azrael collapsed, falling forward and spilling brains onto the floor and on Steven’s shoes. Its head was blown open just above its left eye. Steven shook from the near death encounter and was frozen with fear. The dog barked at the Azrael, growled but kept a few feet away.
Steven eventually pulled himself from shock and dropped the empty smoking gun. The gunpowder smell in the air accompanied the Azrael’s odor. His ears were ringing and couldn’t hear the dog barking when he could obviously see it was barking. The small enclosed space amplified the sound which made him momentarily deaf.