The Azrael: The Reckoning (14 page)

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.

“Crap, I killed it.”  He shouted to himself hearing his own words in his head.  The small dog ran around in circles and barked.  It seemed as if it wanted to go around the Azrael and deeper inside the small room.  “It’s okay boy.  It’s dead.”  The dog studied him and barked while running in circles once more.  Movement behind the Azrael startled Steven. He had no more bullets in the gun and it was on the ground.

A small panel slid open revealing a young teenage girl and a little boy about three years old.

“Is it dead?”  The girl asked trying to adjust her eyes to the light in the room.  The day was coming to an end but it was lighter than it was in that small hidden closet.

“Yes, I shot it in the head, see.”  Steven pointed at the brains spilling out on the ground next to him.

“You shot it?  But, but you’re just a kid.” 

That offended Steven.  “You’re welcome.”  He spouted.

“Thank you.  I didn’t mean it like that.  It’s just you’re too young to be out here by yourself.  Where are your parents?”

“Don’t have none.  They’re dead.”  Steven replied and kicked some brains off of his shoe.  Some still clung on and he wiped it off on the Azrael’s face.  “It’s safe to come over it.  It’s not gonna bite you.” 

The little boy shook his head and hugged the girl even closer.

“Um, do you have any more bullets or another gun?” She asked noticing the gun on the ground.

“No, I’ve used all of it up.  We can look around for another gun.”  Steven suggested and started to search the immediate area for another weapon.

“Why don’t you come in here with us?  It will get dark but you won’t be by yourself.”  The girl asked.

“We need a gun.  We’ll die if we don’t have one.”  Steven panicked searching for a new weapon, his courage.

Sounds of Azrael entered the stairwell drawn from the gunfire.  There were so many.  Steven knew he didn’t have time to locate another weapon or if one weapon would be enough for all of them.  He stepped over the Azrael’s corpse and headed for the hidden closet.

“Shut that door, it’s airtight.  They won’t smell us.”  Steven attempted to close the door but the Azrael’s dead body was lying in its path.  He tried to push it but it was too heavy for him.

“Hurry!  Hurry!”  She cried out in a whisper.  Steven couldn’t shut the door and ran towards her anyway shaking his head in defeat.  The dog eventually got enough courage to jump over the Azrael cadaver and ran inside the secret closet just before Steven.

“Won’t budge.  That zombie’s in the way.”  He pointed over to it.

“The what?”  She asked confused.

“The zombie.”  He responded while climbing in, sliding the panel over and closing it.

“Don’t call them that.  That’s creepy.”  She whispered in the dark.

“Creepy?  They come back from the dead and eat people.  They’re zombies.”  Steven shook his head.  Some people just can’t accept the world as it is.

Steven remembered the fish oil pill bottle in his pocket.  He couldn’t see it to open it but remembered the motion and managed to pop it open anyway.  He pulled his shoe off and crushed them.

“Here wipe this all over.”  He elbowed her in the dark, found her hands and wiped it on them.

“Eww, what’s that?”  She pushed him away.

“It hides your smell.  It’s fish oil.  Miss Giselle showed me this.  It keeps you safe.”  He tried to convince her and began to wipe it all over himself first.  “I’m gonna crush more for you and the boy okay?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Okay?”  He asked in frustration.  He was trying to save them.

“Fine, just don’t do anything weird.” She reached her hands out and Steven felt them touch his shoulder.

“Anything weird?  What are you talking about?”  Steven was confused.

“Never mind, just give me the stuff.”  She dismissed her last comment.  He crushed a few more and handed over the gooey oil to her.  She wiped it off of his hands and wiped it over herself and the boy.

It was just in time too.  Movement outside indicated they’ve located them.  The smell of the Azrael was overwhelming.  There were dozens outside by the sound of the footsteps and the frequency of the grunts and occasional shrieks.  Steven had the panel cracked open slightly enough for him to see them.  One of the Azrael sniffed the dead one on the ground and snarled at it.  It looked up at the panel and paused.  It took in the stagnant air until it smelled the fish oil.  It ruffled its nose and hurried outside with the others dissatisfied with the aroma.

Several gunshots rang off and sounded like it came from down below at the lower floors.  The Azrael frenzied and funneled in the stairwell, hurried down and attacked the door from where the gunshots came from.

“See, I told you.  They couldn’t smell us.”  Steven boasted while elbowing the girl in her side.  She elbowed him back.

“Stop doing that.”  She whispered.

“Doing what, the elbows?”

“No, being right.  I’m sorry I doubted you.  You saved us.”

“It’s not over yet.”

“There you go again.”  The two shared a laugh in the dark.  Steven was proud of himself but still struggled with what the girl said.  Why would he be weird?

Chris Murphy marked three more lines on his tally of infected killed since the recent outbreak.  He knew that every Azrael killed were the people that lived in the city below him.  They worked at the market, built walls, ran wires or even designed his loft that overlooked the city.

Chris had to detach himself, which might have also been part of the reason for the isolation.  If he got too close to these people then he may have hesitated when given the order to shoot them down.  He knew that wasn’t the case for him.  He didn’t give a shit about these people or about saving anybody really.  He had an important job and he was damned good at it.  He was paid well for what he did at the cost of isolation and being on call at any given moment.

Anything he wanted, he was supplied.  If he desired Chinese food, bam, in thirty minutes or less it was delivered up the shaft and to his inbox.  Everything was delivered to him this way unless urgency was needed, then remote operated drones would fly to his perch to drop off and deliver the necessary equipment.  His perch had 360° coverage that surrounded the building so he could defend all incoming threats.

Chris had been working for the Eagles Nest for two years now and yesterday was the first day he had actually done his job.  He didn’t complain.  He was provided women to sleep with that preferred the lavish lifestyle for the night.  They weren’t prostitutes, not that he could tell anyway.  They genuinely were interested in his lifestyle and turned on by his big guns.  He shot several times a week to keep his skills sharp.  Several targets placed throughout the city challenged him to be better.  He was only limited by the buildings in his way or by the power of his weapon.  The scopes on his rifle were the top of the line and on every shoot he would be fine tuning his sights.

Before the Eagles Nest he was part of a small surviving group that managed to keep the Azrael from breaching their apartment building.  There were ten stories to it and the bottom floor was heavily secured due to the crime that had been in the area before the Azrael even existed.  None of the residents were actually from the building.  They all found their way to the apartment building at some point during their quest for survival.  Anyone that was of use were allowed to stay.  However, if you proved that you lacked motivation to provide a service or purpose then you were evicted.  Several opportunities were provided to redeem themselves but people still managed to find creative ways to be of no use to the group.  It was harsh rules but people that didn’t pull their own weight could eventually at some point get them all killed.  The more people there were to stand watches then the shorter the watches would become.  The more food scavenged or grown then the more they could eat and so on and so forth.

The building had survived off of the grid for a few months without a problem.  However, someone that had been evicted or turned away managed to form up a team that had the intentions of taking it for themselves.  They were willing to do whatever necessary to acquire the safety and efficiency that the building provided.  Unbeknown to them, the building was kept safe and run efficiently due to the people in charge of it.  Once they removed the machine from the system, the system failed.  And unfortunately for them, they lacked the discipline to actually maintain or successfully defend their system.

Chris had turned his watch over to an elderly name named Robert who served in the army years ago.  He knew his way around a rifle and knew how to shoot it.  However, his sight had worsened over the years and his prescription glasses had been crushed during a refortification effort the week before.  His son had planned on searching for a new pair for his father at a CVS on the next scavenger run.  Robert insisted that he could see just fine and that he didn’t want to cause people to have to stand longer watches due to his disability.    Hindsight would have saved his life and many others.

Whether it was dumb luck or someone was working for the other side was never discovered.  However, it was Robert’s watch when the team broke into the lower garage level.  They successfully avoided well-hidden trip wires that sent alarms to the central security room where five people manned monitors and facilities twenty-four hours a day.  The scattered IED’s (improvised explosive devices) that were surrounding the exterior, well hidden in false grass or pavement alterations made Chris think that it was in fact an inside job.  The element of surprise allowed the men to break into the central security room where they killed all five workers.  Within the hour they had full control over the facility.  The keys to the makeshift armory held in the central security room provided them full access to all weapons and ammunition for the building besides those that were on watch on the outer perimeter.  They held all of the cards and by dawn they killed or evicted all of the men who lived there.  Any woman who denied their attention were either severely beaten or killed.  The children and elderly were evicted later on in the day when the dipshit in charge assumed that their purpose would be useless freeloaders.  Chris and a few other men evicted observed the eviction and safely guided the elderly and children through the hidden minefield.

Chris and the evicted survivors lived a few blocks away in a building poorly constructed, poorly defended and infested with roaches and rats.  However, it was only temporary and provided a roof over their heads and minimal protection.  Without guns they were forced to use knives, bats and pipes as weapons against whatever threats presented themselves.

After only a week the building they once called home was ambushed, overtaken and destroyed by a herd of Azrael.  All were infected or eaten.  Within a few days the virus driven creatures had spread across several blocks and found their way on the doorstep of Chris’ building.  During the battle for survival Simon and a team of Highwaymen arrived saving them from the herd that would have surely infected them all.  Since their formal home had been burnt to the foundation they were left with two options.  They could either try their luck with the infected at their current shithole of a home or roll the dice with Simon and his pipe dreams of Chicago.  They chose wisely and were a part of the Chicago Revival Movement.  The same principles and purposes served within their apartment building had carried over in the redevelopment of Chicago and the erecting of walls at key locations surrounding the four Districts.  It was Chris’ idea to split Chicago up in districts in case of an outbreak happened within one of them.  They could be quarantined and dealt with.

After declining to join the Highwaymen several times Chris was eventually offered a lead position at the Eagles Nest.  His sniping skills at the apartment building had become stories that spread into Chicago as the group assimilated themselves amongst the city’s residents.  Chicago wasn’t a complete disaster when they arrived.  The Central District was the only protected zone that housed the base for scientists to study the Azrael virus.  However, the city had begun to grow and the population needed to expand outwards in order to support the steady flow of survivors that sought refuge within Chicago’s walls.

Chris received training years ago while serving in the Marines in Afghanistan.  He had been approached by special warfare units for him to try his luck with their elite group.  He respectfully declined every attempt.  He hadn’t planned on making the military his lifestyle.  He wanted to serve his country, enjoy the educational benefits and get the fuck out.  Unfortunately for him the moment he completed his degree the Azrael Outbreak happened making the education acquired in the Marines the only real benefit to him.  His military survival skills served him well in keeping himself alive.  After months of trying to keep the weak alive Chris decided to avoid becoming close to anyone due to the nature of the world.  He had killed more of his friends in those few months than the 459 he’d killed on the perch since yesterday.

The Eagles Nest was a perfect fit for the emotionally detached.  However detached he was he remembered every Azrael he’d killed since yesterday.  Being isolated on top of a building, a nice pair of binoculars and several high tech scopes encouraged him to live through those that surrounded him.  Having a photographic memory further complicated his detachment process.  He had a window into their lives that served as his entertainment.  He would often narrate conversations couples had as they argued in the floors in adjacent buildings to his own.  He had seen people fall in love and opened up a can of beer as they made love.  He watched husbands teach their sons and daughters how to and where to shoot Azrael.  He watched as families enjoyed dinner at the table unlike the days before when television became a part of their normal dinner routine.  He also seen husbands, frustrated with the world, beat their wives.  It took everything in him to avoid placing a round in their leg just to give their wives a chance to get away.

Every confirmed kill was also a confirmed resident that he remembered living down below.  The blue dress Azrael, kill 245, used to flirt with 122, the meat market boy.  He’d seen them a few days ago sneak into the alley and make out.  Number 38, the pervert, used to spy on the teenage girls as they dressed the next building over.  He noticed him touching himself as he watched.  He actually enjoyed that kill.  He even used a different color line, pink, for his death.  300 was the father that worked several late nights fortifying the walls.  He’d come home each day, despite being exhausted, and spent time with his kids.  He hid any signs of fatigue until surrendering to sleep with his wife, 277.  She was sneaking off with 119, the runner, since her husband got the job.  He lacked the energy to satisfy her while working and entertaining their kids instead.  She started sleeping with the runner a few months ago.  The only thing Chris ever saw him do was jog through the city.  Sometimes he would lead a group on a marathon run.  The father eventually caught his wife cheating.  They argued while Chris narrated.

“You dumb bitch.  I work all day building walls to keep us safe and you’re fucking this asshole.”  The husband might have said.

“Naw man, it’s not like that.”  The Runner could have pleaded.

“Fuck you.”  He poked the Runner.  “Fuck you.”  He poked the wife.  “Fuck everyone.”  He gestured everywhere.  Chris laughed knowing that they didn’t actually say those things but it seemed like that’s how it went down.

The father eventually calmed down and his wife, 277, left with the Runner.  They kissed and she returned in the house.  She said some bullshit to her husband, he bought it and later that night they made up.  He noticed old 119 later that night a few floors up having drinks with 412’s wife.  He was a former Highwaymen that left the year before to get married and settle down.  32, his wife, was the biggest whore of them all.  Her husband had begun a new job maintaining the power grid within the city’s walls and often times was gone working on the power grid that connected to the Safe Houses well beyond the city’s walls.  That’s when 32 got real active.  She had more random men over than the miles old 119 ran in a year.  Chris even recognized her whorish ass when she visited him in his perch.  He not so politely told her to fuck off and to take her cheating ass back home to her husband.  She slowed down after that… a bit.

Chris sighed and remembered 433, Kristen Jones.  He knew her before he got the job at Eagles Nest. They found themselves sleeping together after a few weeks of dating.  Relationships moved faster these days, he thought probably because of the impending doom of the end of the world.  When he was offered the job he had to choose between Kristen or the job.  He chose the job and that was the end of it.  She came up to visit every now and then.  They slept together on occasion.  Each visit she tried to pull him from his perch.  He found her that morning wearing a dress he bought her.  As he zoomed in, the breeze in her hair brought a sigh in his breath.  He could smell her coconut scented shampoo as if she were laying there next to him.  Her athletic ass sat out just right as she chased a man down the street. She was a fast runner when she was alive.  Boy was that guy in trouble, he thought.  He followed her, zooming in further observing her curves and the smoothness of her legs.  He trailed it up and steadied his scope at her face.  Her full lips were open and snarling.  She was seconds from biting the man and he squeezed the trigger.  433.