The Azrael: Surviving the Outbreak (8 page)

“More like sloppy fourths, you skinny bitch.”  Stevie said with a smile.

Giselle gave up on the car and grabbed Jessica’s hand.

“Come with me, they’re coming.”  She said pulling her arm.  It was limp and as Giselle pulled her towards her Jessica’s head tilted towards her revealing two holes in her skull and face.  She was dead.  Giselle barely noticed her own injuries as the shock of Jessica’s death hit her.  She backed up holding her mouth and felt a tight feeling in her side.  A ball bearing had hit her side, but entered shallow.  She could still feel the ball and pulled it out.  She was getting faint but managed to get herself together before the men got around the car.  She pulled out her pistol and emptied the magazine towards the group.  They weren’t expecting a fight from Giselle. The old man was on the ground struggling to breathe as three holes in his chest caused his lungs to deflate and Billy was shot in the leg cussing.

“Daddy!”  Curtis yelled.

“You bitch.  You killed Wayne.”  Billy hollered and got up firing at Giselle with his shotgun.  The sound of the blast and the ball bearings hitting the side of the car disoriented her.  She reloaded, searched the area for the other two and shot at Billy again.  Before she could get off a third shot she blacked out.

She awoke in her undies and tied up to a bed.  Her mouth was duct taped closed and wrapped around her head several times.  Her hands were together and tied to the piping of the headboard.  Her legs were spread open as each leg was tied to the front legs of the bed.  She didn’t want to think of what happened to her as she slept.  Her body ached and she was sore down below.  She was upset that she got captured again and got her brother’s new wife killed.   This world is so fucked up, we deserved the Azrael, she thought.  She faintly heard sounds in the room with her.  She sat up and saw Curtis staring at Jessica’s corpse.

“Stop staring at the dead bitch and get her ready for the pot.”  Stevie said knocking the shit out of Curtis.  He apologized and started cleaning her body.  He left the room and came back with a knife.  Giselle started to scream beneath the duct tape.

“Looks like the live one is awake Billy.”  Curtis said gutting Jessica’s body like a pig.  He finished his precise cuts starting from the bottom of her belly up to her sternum.   He pulled out insides in one solid package and tossed them in a large metal bucket next to the table she was on.  Giselle started to vomit from the smell and of what he was doing.  She began to choke.

“Stevie, STEVIE!!!  Get in here, she’s choking.”  Curtis yelled into the other room.  Stevie ran in with a knife and cut the duct tape off of her mouth cutting into her cheek a bit as well.  Chunks were shooting out of her nose and as the tape ripped off she projectile vomited across her body covering her stomach and right leg in vomit. 

“Jesus Christ woman.  You tryin’ to kill yourself?”  Stevie said with disgust.  At that moment, she wished she was dead.

“What are you doing with Jessica’s body?”  Giselle barely was able to get the question out as the burn of stomach acid and the chunks in her nose affected her speech.

“So her name is Jessica.  That’s pretty.”  Curtis said looking into Jessica’s open dead eyes with a creepy ass grin.

“You’ll be thankin’ us when you try a bit of Jessica Stew.”  Billy said as he walked in with a limp favoring the leg she shot.  He sat down next to her and squeezed and rubbed her breasts with his massive hands.  They were like sandpaper on her nipples even through her bra.  She cringed. 

“This is better treatment than you deserved after you killed Daddy.”  Curtis said as he continued to clean out Jessica’s corpse. 

“Wayne was a good man.  We’re all sad to see him dead.”  Stevie said to Giselle sitting on the left side of the bed and wiped the vomit off of her body with a towel.  He rubbed his hands down her stomach and ran his index finger around her belly button. 

Unbeknown to the distracted men she managed to dislodge three feet of pipe with her hands that was attached to the headboard.  It must have been weakened by past victims.  She jabbed Billy in the knee he was shot in and she swung up hitting his chin as hard as she could then followed with a jab to his eyes.  Stevie hit her with a punch to the face almost rendering her unconscious again, but she knew if she went out then she was dead.  She swung at Stevie striking him in his temple and he hit the ground hard. 

Curtis heard the ruckus and charged at her with the knife.  She hit his hand holding the knife and he dropped it on the bed next to her.  She hit Billy again as hard as she could across his face and he staggered.  Curtis reached in and tried to choke Giselle.  He was extremely strong for being such a skinny fuck, she thought.  She dropped the pipe and began to lose consciousness and her left hand landed on the knife.  She found a renewed spirit and grabbed the knife and stabbed Curtis in the face.  He screamed like a girl and she continued to stab him until he stopped making a sound bleeding profusely on the bed between her legs.  She gasped for air and breathed in heavy for a few seconds before cutting the rope that bound her feet to the side of the bed.  She stuck the knife in the skull of Stevie a few times to make sure that bastard wasn’t getting up again.  She went around the bed and struck down at Billy’s face and he blocked the knife causing it to cut deep into his arm.  He growled and picked her up and tossed her across the room.  She struck Jessica’s disemboweled cadaver and they both fell on the ground into the tub of entrails puncturing the greater omentum surrounding the intestines.  Billy pulled the knife out of his arm tossing it on the ground and walked towards Giselle with the intent to kill this bitch.

“I told those dumbasses that we should have cut you up before you woke up.  Nope, they didn’t listen and now look at em.  Dead, both of em. “  He said looking down at his dead friends shaking his head.

He reached in to grab her and couldn’t get a good grasp on her since she was slippery from all of the guts she was covered in.  She managed to slip around him and jumped on his back wrapping Jessica’s intestines around her hands a few times and looped it around his neck pulling as hard as she could.  She twisted them, and wrenched as hard as she could.  He grabbed at his throat and tried to reach around to get to her.  She was too slippery to grab and she continued to tug.  After about two minutes he finally fell to his knees.  She pulled even harder once she had a good footing.  Finally the man passed out from asphyxiation.

Giselle dropped to her knees and panted from the work.  An overwhelming aroma of shit entered her lungs.  She gagged and coughed from the odor.  She stood up after a few seconds and searched for the knife.  She picked it up, turned around and jabbed it into his temple and twisted to make sure he would never get up again.  She walked over to where her clothes were and grabbed them.  She found her pistol and holster and entered the bathroom.  The tub was pulling from a well nearby and started after a few moments of turning it on.  It wasn’t hot but it was clean, well clean enough for her.  She cleaned off her body and got dressed. A large mural of a pentagram with a bloody goat head decorated the center of the symbol.  “Crazy Satan worshippers.”  Giselle spat on the wall and before she left the house she shot the assholes in the skull twice just to make sure they didn’t get back up from some satanic ritual.  Who knows these days what’s possible, she thought.

She found a pick-up truck in the driveway with keys in the ignition.  She started it and left with no clue where she was.  She passed a herd heading for the house being drawn by the blood and the gunfire.  After fifteen minutes on the road she recognized where she was.  She was sick when she noticed that their house was only ten minutes away from where she grew up.  These crazy ass rednecks lived in her town and grew up in her neighborhood.  She tried to recall them and couldn’t.  Giselle realized that she gave two shits who they were and knew that she needed to bring information about the new Azrael breed she encountered.  She also needed to figure out how to explain to her brother what happened to his wife, without telling him everything. 

Not Alone

The road back to Chicago was long and dangerous.  Giselle had to take several detours after a severe thunderstorm a week ago blew down several stretches of trees.  There were also a record number of lightning strikes that claimed the lives of several survivors who lived beyond the grid.  On the trip to Mount Carroll she took the northern scenic route.  The quickest route back to Chicago turned out to be not so quick.  Actually, it took twice as long as the scenic route took.  She followed US 40 and stopped at the Chadwick safe house.  It was surrounded by many acres of farmland.  It was powered by a generator that could use ethanol for fuel.  She was used to having a companion to help her maintain a look out and to help clear the facility of any unwanted guests.  She had to make do with the tasks alone.

In the morning she awoke peacefully to birds chirping outside.  She sat up rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and yawned.  It’s been a long time since she’s been alone, she thought.  Slowly as her senses entered the world of the awake she heard the breeze whistling through a grate that shielded one of the windows.  It was the only one that didn’t completely block out light as a beam of sunlight accompanied the whistle.  Her eyes got stuck watching the sunlight kissing the floor and the edge of the bed.  She thought about the focus that Azrael displayed as she spoke to it.  Its eyes showed an expression, an emotion, something the Azrael don’t have anymore.  Or do they?  The whistle noise intensified pulling her from her daydream.  She rubbed at the small wound above her right hip and looked down at its condition.  She cleaned it thoroughly and disinfected it several times but it still irritated her side and looked red and irritated around the bandages.  She pulled them back and it looked infected.  She needed antibiotics, there were none here.  She already looked last night.  She stood up and the soreness of her side prevented her from stretching completely.  She still did her morning stretches, which maintained proper blood flow and helped to keep her flexible.  You never know when you need to put yourself in a tight place, she thought.  She smelled the air and could smell her body odor.  It wafted by her nose and alarmed her.  She washed herself off at that house, but it washed everything off, including the masking agent.  She was beyond the walls without her scent camouflaged.  She walked towards her bag and searched it.  The spray bottle wasn’t in there.  Did she drop it?  Did she take it out in here?  Her eyes scanned back and forth from left to right as she attempted to remember when she last saw the masking agent. 

“Damn it, she used it.”  Giselle said out loud remembering that Jessica sprayed another coat on herself just before they entered Mount Carroll.  It was in the car, in the God damned car back in the woods.  She contemplated going back for it, but knew that she would be like fish in a barrel for the Azrael without it concealing her scent.  She thought of alternatives but didn’t have access to the supplies to create a new masking agent.  Rubbing dirt on her was the only option at this point.  Well, at least it will cover up her pits, she thought sniffing them again.  She pulled her pants up, buttoned them and slipped a thick hooded sweatshirt over her head and pushed her arms through the sleeves.  She heard a noise as her eyes were behind the shirt as she was putting it on and quickly emerged through the neck opening and crouched.  She picked up her gun belt and clipped it on.  The weight of the pistol in its holster beside her right thigh brought her immediate comfort.

A shadow moved quickly past the light that was hitting the floor.  Several more followed and she knew she wasn’t alone anymore.  She didn’t have time to mask her scent now.  She slowly put her backpack on and touched her pocket to make sure the keys were there and only found the silencer to her pistol .

“Where the hell did I put them?”  She mouthed to herself as she scanned the room. She remembered where she put them.  She left them in the kitchen.  She opened the bedroom door as slow as she could and it only slightly creaked, but it did.  She paused, listened and continued when she heard nothing.  She picked up an eight inch kitchen knife from the counter as she moved quietly.  She held it in her left hand and moved it around until she felt comfortable with the weight and hand placement.  The keys were on the table near the window.  She grabbed them and put them in the pouch of the hooded sweatshirt in front of her.  She pulled out her pistol and popped the mag out with her right thumb catching the bottom of the magazine with her left palm as her fingers held the knife.  She checked the ammo count and then popped it back in the pistol.  She put the knife in her mouth and pulled out the suppressor from her pocket.  She twisted it on slowly.  She took the pistol off of safe, grabbed the knife out of her mouth with her left hand and headed for the back door ready to fight whatever came.

The doorknob began to turn moments before she reached it and she froze.  She aimed her pistol at the door and slowly moved to a better vantage point.  She knew the door wasn’t locked, since she had to damage it to get in.  She hadn’t planned on visitors, plus she had never camped out alone before.  She quickly added up all of the mistakes she had been making and it was upsetting her.  A muscular Azrael emerged through the door.  She could smell it as the breeze brought in its stench.  It sniffed the air and immediately turned to her and lunged with a wild look on its face.  She was a couple feet behind a couch which was between her and the door.  It was slowed due to the obstacle which gave her enough time to place a silenced shot in its skull and it dropped on the couch as its muscles still tensed up and convulsed.   She put more distance between her and the couch as she saw another Azrael enter sniffing the air.  Three more piled in behind it drawn to her human aroma and they all smelled the air and found her quickly.  Giselle relaxed her muscles, held her pistol between her and the Azrael loosely and breathed in slowly and calmly.  She imagined each skull a target in a sharpshooting competition.  She remembered her stepfather’s quick-draw technique.  Speed-shooting was a hobby she dabbled in after her stepfather died, but she never had the need to use it these days.  Her specialty was in sharpshooting.  An expertly placed shot can put these bastards on the ground faster than raining bullets on them.  Time seemed to slow as she watched two more enter the room as the other four were already leaping for her.

Without thought her hand raised and began to aim towards the closest one.  Her finger gently pulled the trigger.  She acquired the next target shot, shifted and shot once more.  She was calm, collected and dead on with each shot.  The first three dropped revealing two more targets.  Her hand adjusted, aimed, shot, adjusted, aimed and shot.  The last one was faster and much larger.  As the other two dropped he leaped through them, stepping on the couch and lunged again.  She missed her first shot, and her second.  Her gun clicked, and she knew her time had come.  She shielded her face with her right forearm and it bit into it viciously.  She screamed at the enormous pain it was and fell backwards from the force of the impact.  She instinctively jabbed the knife into its skull with her left arm and wrenched the blade as she fell.  The force turned it to the right a bit and Giselle’s body turned following the blow to the skull and she landed on top of it.  She pulled her arm out of its twitching mouth and held her arm up as it twitched.  She could feel something different enter her body as her arm continued to pour out blood.  Her senses began to collapse on her.  Sound slowly reduced as the light in the room dimmed.  She could barely smell anything around her and she became light-headed.  Was this how it started.  She knew that it happened fast for the others and that she had very little time to shoot herself before she turned into one of them. 

She tried to push the button on the pistol to release the magazine and couldn’t apply enough force.  She sat up and stood on her knees dropping the knife.  She pushed the button with her left pointer finger and the magazine dropped to the ground.  The sound echoed in her mind as the room began to close in on her.  She didn’t have much time left, she thought.  She reached for another magazine and pulled it out with much effort.  The weight of the magazine and the pistol seemed to increase.  She fell forward and braced herself with the silencer barrel on the pistol to keep her body up.  The magazine fell from her hand and sat only inches from it but her body was too weak to pick it up.  She had failed herself again today.  Her eyes began to close but the spirit inside of her denied this end.  She mustered up enough strength and the room opened up again slightly.  Her left hand found the magazine and she lifted it slowly and aligned it to the opening of the pistol and pushed it in.  She leaned back releasing her weight off of the pistol and began to aim it at her skull.  Three more Azrael entered the room sniffing the air.  She could smell them again this time, but it was more specific.  They smelled like these others on the ground.  The sound of their heart beating quickly entered her head and they sounded like a techno beat in her mind.  She didn’t feel the pain in her arm anymore.  She didn’t even feel the pain in her side from the ball bearing injury from before.  She pulled her right sleeve down and found that the wound on her arm scabbed up.  She lifted her shirt up and her side had scabbed up as well.  She had turned into them.  She’s a fucking zombie!  It’s too late.  She’s one of them already.

“Shit, it’s too late.”  She screamed and the Azrael that entered turned and sprinted towards her.  Wait, she shouldn’t be talking.  What’s going on?  She licked her upper mouth with her tongue and flicked it off trying to spark a desire for a taste.  She wanted a waffle with syrup.  Shit, shoot those bastards.

She quickly lifted the pistol, aimed it and fired three perfect shots on each Azrael without looking at them.  It was just a natural reaction.  The techno beat of their beating drums ceased and she took in a deep breath.  What is she?  Her skin didn’t look much different.  Her eyes, crap, her eyes.  She scrambled to her feet and searched for a mirror.  She found one and froze.  Did she want to look?  Did she want to know?  She did.  As her image entered the mirror she noticed her eyes.  They were normal, they were not gray. 

Her heartbeat was beating much faster than usual and she heard it thump like a drum.  Loud screeching noises of birds chirping and the loud whistle of the window shield as the wind pushed through it caused her to cringe.  It was a sensory overload.  She put her palms to her ears trying to block out the noises.  She still heard rustling in the trees outside from a squirrel moving towards a tree.  She smelled flowers that were at the end of the field, near the road.  She heard footsteps, lots of footsteps.  She ran to the door and looked towards the noise and found a herd, a giant herd of around a hundred or so coming there.  She needed to mask her scent and get the hell out of there.  She grabbed her things, removed the silencer, and placed the pistol in its holster.  She was still disoriented but focused on her task.  On the way to the truck she grabbed a few handfuls of dirt and rubbed it all over her skin, hair and clothes.  She hopped in the truck, started it and was on her way.  Noises of hands banging on the side and rear of the truck caused her to look in the rearview mirror.  She pushed harder on the gas and the herd became further behind her.  They continued to chase her until they lost sight of the truck.  She calmed down and began to be struck with an overbearing desire to rub at her injuries.  She rubbed her arm and her side gently.  It was a reaction she remembered fresh turners did upon being bit.  She continued to rub and it calmed her even more. 

(
Translated
)

“
It happened Sir.  She was bit, and she’s changed.  She’s one of us
.”  A man spoke Japanese into a sat phone. 

“
Finally, keep an eye on her at all times.  We can’t lose this one
.”  An old gravelly voice responded in Japanese.

“
Yes.  The battery on the tracking chip that was implanted back in the Sunlight District of Chicago has ceased to function.  We’ve been tracking her on foot.  She’s been extremely capable of defending herself on her own.  She will be a valuable ally Sir
.”  The man responded and pulled his black face mask up, turned off the phone and climbed on his motorcycle starting it.  Four others started their engines all wearing black uniforms.  They sped off narrowly escaping a herd closing in on them.  A symbol depicting five daggers in a star pattern was on their backs.

(
End of Translation
)