The Azrael: Surviving the Outbreak

Jesse Gagnon

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

             The sterile aroma of the lab, situated several miles below the surface, permeates his small office and through every object and reminds Dr. Schwinn of the hospital in which he used to call home, twenty hours out of his day, years ago.  He is now involved in creating a vaccine that could stop the virus from completely wiping out the human race.  It provides him with the comfort that he is involved in bringing humanity back from the brink of death.

Six years ago a virus, Azrael which means Angel of Death, infected the people of Atlanta, Georgia with a zombie outbreak.  It began from a layover flight to Atlanta headed for New York.  The flight originated from Dubai and carried a biological weapon, created to infect and destroy the US by ISIS.  This virus, destined to be released in New York, was contained within a martyr Bilal Nazir whose family was promised wealth upon completion of his holy sacrifice. Unfortunately for Bilal’s family, the antivirus created to protect ISIS from the virus was ineffective due to the rate at which the virus mutated.  The flu element spliced within the virus met other strains throughout the world and by the time it found its way back to the Middle East it had become immune to the antivirus. Within six months all continents contained humans that were infected with the Azrael virus. Most strongholds in major cities collapsed from Azrael outbreaks or from human interventions.  Civilization dissolved only becoming words on pages of books written by men who once ruled this world.  Although man still fights for his title of ruler these days, those who understand natural selection have accepted their fate and have come to terms with the world’s new monarch, the Azrael.

Dr. Schwinn sits at his desk and begins to comb through several journals that were stacked on top of it.  These journals contained vague entries of Azrael encounters and findings over the last several years. He knew what led to humanity’s destruction but hoped to discover deviations, progressions and maybe even similarities that would help him to understand the mutation of the Azrael virus. The lack of detail leads Dr. Schwinn to wonder what happened during the time these books were written.  He locates the first volume and begins to read its contents.

The Highwaymen

Friday March 4
th
2016

Bilal

Bilal was young, fearless and desired to join his ancestors who fought and were killed by the American soldiers.  His cause was just in his eyes.  However, the virus coursing through his blood activated far too soon causing a violent fever.  He exited the plane and entered Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport in a hurry heading for the nearest restroom where he found comfort hovering over the toilet vomiting violently.  He knew his mission was to make it to New York.  Unfortunately, Bilal didn’t believe he could make it out of the restroom alive.  Blood found its way within the toilet bowl as his insides slowly began to decay.  He started breathing heavily as strands of saliva, blood and sweat all dripped from his face and into the swirling pool.  The cool temperature of the porcelain pillow soothed Bilal as his eyes struggled to stay open.  He eventually succumbed to the virus and was grotesquely displayed with his head submerged within the bowl covered with blood and vomit. 

Bilal entered a peaceful place as golden fields and crystal blue skies painted the landscape.  His ancestors waved from beyond the field calling him towards them.  He smiled and knew his mission was a success.  He walked towards his relatives slowly taking in the beautiful landscape, smelling the scents of the flowers nearby being blown in the wind.  Suddenly the sky fell dark and his ancestors ran towards him with knives and guns.  Fear painted their faces as they attempted to kill Bilal.  He felt their weapons as they stabbed and shot him.  It made him angry and a deep primal instinct within lashed out.  He even bit and tore a chunk of his uncle’s face and swallowed it.  He enjoyed the taste of the flesh and continued to attack while his ancestors looked in horror as he killed one by one, not being affected by their attacks.  Bilal continued his quest for flesh until he lost consciousness. 

Bilal awoke in the main entrance of the Airport leaning against the wall.  Blood and entrails dripped from his lips and the taste of metal was in his mouth.  Unfortunately he was no longer in control of his actions, but his consciousness was intact.  The body began to rise and moved with athleticism he never thought he had.  He soon realized the intent of his actions, the body’s actions.  Bilal lunged towards a child that seemed to flee from a location once hidden from his body.  He also noticed a young woman in pursuit of this child.  She had not been bitten yet.  However, she was not as quick as his body at reaching the child.  His hand clinched around the child’s arm and pulled her towards his mouth and he bit into her forearm.  He could taste her skin, a moisturizing lotion and the warm blood in her body.  She screamed and cried in agonizing pain as she punched and kicked him with her other limbs.  Unsatisfied with just one bite he continued to bite into her until her taste and scent changed.  She lied lifeless for a few moments until her chest gradually began to rise and fall again.  She started to convulse until she finally stopped and her eyes opened.  His body stood up still chewing on her flesh and turned from her.  He caught a glimpse of her eyes, a gray film covered them, and they looked at Bilal in horror.  She slowly arose, calmly rubbing the areas that were bit into.  A woman had been striking Bilal with her fists in a blinding rage from behind attempting to pull him away from the little girl’s body.  Maybe this was her mother, he thought.  His body responded likewise punching her in a primal defensive reaction.  His blows were much more powerful than her own as his fists immediately caused bleeding and swelling on the woman’s face.  She struck the ground next to the child in a daze.  The little girl grabbed her and bit into her throat tearing into the jugular vein.  She bit off a chunk of meat that filled her mouth.  She struggled to chew the neck flesh that was wadded within her cheek.  The woman wept as she stared into the girl’s gray eyes and tried to run her fingers through the girl’s hair as the virus started to pour into her body.  Blood squirted in pulses from her neck spraying the child’s face as she continued to feed on the woman’s shoulder.  It wasn’t until the virus killed the woman that the girl finished feeding on her.  She arose with a mask of blood on her face and smelled the air for a new victim.

Bilal’s body continued to scan for another victim.  He tried to take control of his actions but couldn’t.  It was like something else controlled his movements and yet he felt everything.  A gaping wound on his lower back that was pouring out blood was now thickening.  It slowly clotted and pushed out a screwdriver.  It seemed the woman stabbed him in the back with it when she attacked his body.  Scabs were developing quickly as the wounds healed.  He noticed other walking abominations scanning their surroundings as he was, figuring that they were also not in control over their actions. He noticed hundreds of them traversing the airport while his body began to walk slowly towards the exit and he felt the breeze on his skin.  This was not what he was promised; now the walking undead, whose body hunted on its own terms.

              Bilal lost consciousness on several occasions and awoke in a new location each time baring new scars and a mouthful of warm flesh.  It appeared his mind needed to rest however his body did not.  Children, women, young men, none were immune to his attacks.  He watched a newly infected mother drag her children out of their rooms and attack them.  A unique select were genetically immune to the virus, not allowing their bodies to turn. A pheromone normally released during turning stops the infected from perpetually eating its victim.  Those immune to the virus were eaten to the bone.  Bilal remembered each victim’s face he encountered and they haunted him as he slept, knowing that he was dooming them to the same fate as his own or in few cases a gruesome death.

Months and years passed in no real sense to Bilal.  He slept and awoke on his own clock.  Night only allowed him to hunt undetected, since his body didn’t need sleep.  He wondered if it was ever revealed who caused the outbreak and if his family was in fact given compensation for his actions.  But now being the infected, he worried what is to protect his family from the virus spreading back home.  Think is all he could do since he no longer had the ability to act. 

Three years later, Bilal found himself on some road at night walking towards nothing.  He had forgotten who he was in life.  He only knew that he must satisfy the desire to feed.  Other Azrael had formed groups but he had always been alone.  His mind desired company but his body craved only to consume.  He could hear his body breathing quickly as it sniffed the air.  An aroma of uninfected humans had entered his nostrils and he knew that his body had found a new victim.  He could feel it pumping itself with adrenaline as it started to sprint.  However, his body didn’t notice the vehicle from behind striking him and tearing him in half; a pick-up truck retrofitted with a horizontal blade on the front attached to one of those snow plow shovels. Bilal wished he could have screamed since the pain was immense.  His legs twitched and jerked around in chaos.  His arms pulled his torso up and he tried to drag himself towards the fleeing vehicle.  This was the worst shape he had ever been in.  The vehicle stopped and went in reverse crushing Bilal’s skull and freed him from an endless nightmare that began years ago. 

*

John climbed out and walked towards the body kicking it a few times.  “Looks like this one’s not getting back up.”  He said with a gravelly voice.

“Get in the truck John, there could be more out there. “  Savanna pleaded with John to get in.

“I don’t see shit.  This one must have got separated from his pack.”  John said looking around with his night vision goggles for movement.  He found nothing and sighed.  He spat on the ground.  “Write it down. 
A single roamer with strong muscle structure, possibly from an early herd from the east
.”  John said surveying the road kill while she jotted down his words in their journal. “Cut the bitch in half.  Damn it Savanna.  Wish you didn’t crush its skull.  The doc said he’d pay a decent amount for one that was Middle-Eastern and I can’t tell what the fuck this is.”  He said kicking around pieces of its head with his boot.  “The hell with it, let’s get back.”  He climbed into the truck and they drove off towards the lab in Chicago, a bunker well hidden from the Azrael.

The Highwaymen Station was a few days away.  Distance meant very little since a detour was always required because the Azrael formed herds that seemed drawn to roads.   Furthermore, you never let a herd see you, even in a vehicle.  They were resilient, extremely powerful and could and would open doors if you failed to lock them.  Roads usually led to towns and cities, so it made sense that they would follow roads.  Each herd contained a leader that escorted the Azrael to destinations.  Attempting to kill the leader was fruitless because once it was dead a new one would take over.  There would be a brief pause after the alpha died for the herd to acquire a new frontrunner.  Through lots of killings and near death circumstances, we Highwaymen have found that the alpha male or female Azrael of the herd commanded them.  Their ability to command was but a primal instinct driven by the weaker ones to follow the strong.  Where the alpha went, they followed.  If it decided to jump off a cliff they would all follow until it died, then the next strongest would take charge.  Sex had no bearing on the Azrael either. They did not have sex or have ever been witnessed doing anything sexual.  Their clothes were torn and tattered; dirty.  Only nature managed to wash off the excess blood.  If they were naked or were wearing clothes weathered enough that it revealed their sex usually was a dead giveaway that they were in fact Azrael.  They did not sense the cold or heat, since their bodies adapted to their environment quickly.  Azrael were warm in the cold and cool when it was hot.    Since they were always on the move and ate constantly, they were extremely strong and their bodies were lean and tough.  They were the weakest upon being turned, however they were still dangerous since they attacked anything that smelled human.  Once they joined up with a herd, their attacks were more focused, which allowed the Highwaymen to sneak around them.  Also we discovered that hiding our scent was imperative to survival beyond the walls of Chicago.  All Highwaymen wore a masking agent that cloaked the human aroma.  It was discovered just before the Highwaymen were established.

“Damn it John, will you take it easy on that shit.  It’s making my eyes water.”  Savanna said to John covering her mouth and nose as a tear rolled down her cheek in response.

“Just making sure those fuckers can’t smell me this time.  They almost had my ass yesterday and that shit ain’t happenin’ again.  Goddamned thunderstorm, didn’t hear those bastards comin’.”  John said remembering another near death adventure scavenging from that boat house back in Whiting.  The sounds of several lightning strikes nearby shook the ground hiding Azrael movements.  The thunderstorms had been getting worse lately. 

“Well, it’s a good thing that other herd pulled their attention away from you.  That poor dog, I wonder how long it was running from them.”  Savanna remembered seeing them chase and catch some stray pit bull.  They ripped that poor creature apart.  It fought back, but there were just too many. They didn’t eat it either.  They just killed it and moved on giving John enough time to escape.

“It saved my ass.  Fucking ass breathers. ” John said remembering the smell of the Azrael’s breath.

Savanna laughed and remembered why she enjoyed traveling with John.  He’s tough as shit, but he always found a way to make her smile.  At 6’1 John was solid and mostly muscle. He also wasn’t bad to look at either.

“It’s getting late Sweetheart.  Let’s find us a hole to crawl in for the night.”  John said looking for safe houses on the map that were nearby.

“Good, I’m tired and can’t wait to take a shower back at the station.  You think the water works around here?  We could get lucky and get a shower in before we hit the road tomorrow.”  Savanna said winking at John.

“Doesn’t look like any of these have running water or generators.  We’re too far away from the central district for those luxuries.  Shit, it looks like the Mason House again.  The others are too far out.  I hate that shithole.”  John said striking his fist on the door next to him with disgust.
 

“Ugh, that place reeked the last time we were there.  I knew we should have pulled those dead animals from under the house.”  Savanna said choking down chunks that tried to come up from the thought of the smell.

“Yeah, but it definitely hides our scent. “  John said shaking his head.

“Especially your rotten hole.”  Savanna said laughing at John as he did nothing but shrug.

They followed the map to the Mason House in Bolingbrook.  It was a beautiful house, boarded up and completely separated from the rest of the town.  They entered cautiously and cleared every room professionally before finally locking down the doors and windows for the night.

“The smell’s still here, shit.  It smells worse than before.”  Savanna said as she put a few wipes of a menthol salve under her nose.  It was a private stash of the doc’s that she acquired before her last scavenger run.  She offered some to John.

“I don’t want that shit.  I want to be able to smell those shitheads if they decide to show up uninvited.”  John said wondering if it would matter since all he could smell was that damned rotten shit under the house.

“It’s worse this time.  You would think it would air out or something.”  Savanna said crawling into her bed on the second floor.

              John slept in the room beside hers.  If they were together then it would be an easy snack for an Azrael and when they sleep in the same bed they were bound to fuck.  John knew it and he knew Savanna wanted it, but he’s being careful tonight.  Something seemed off about today. He didn’t want to get caught screwin’ around.  He laughed at the joke he thought of and it caused him to choke and he coughed a few times trying to clear his throat.  Savanna got up and darted in his room with her knife and gun drawn.  She was already in her panties, warm socks and a t shirt with holes in it that didn’t quite scream sexy.