The Azrael (Book 4): Tricon

by Gagnon, Jesse

  “That nigga ain’t gonna let you use his car.” Trey suggested.

  “I’ll tell that nigga it’s for Taliah Banks. He’ll probably give me the fucking car.”

  “Is she that famous?” François asked.

  “She could have been any one of us. She was a slave to the white man. No offense.”

  “None taken continue.”

  “She escaped, got taken by those rolo burrito eatin’ niggas and escaped them. Now she livin’ the life in the city.”

  “I heard she saved some dude that was being chased by those zombies.” Trey asked.

  “A young man, yes she saved him from a few groups of Azrael.”

  “And that bitch fine as hell.” Johnny admitted while licking his lips studying her face. He was only seventeen himself, so Lamar didn’t doubt his attraction towards the girl.

  “Calm down, man. She sleepin’. That’s creepy as fuck!” Trey punched him in the chest.

  “Whateva, nigga. The girl beautiful... that’s all I’m sayin’.” Johnny continued.

  “Maybe you should talk to her when she wake up? Spit some of that game you ain’t got.” Trey laughed.

  “Fuck you nigga. I got game. She’ll be all over this di...”

  “Ain’t nobody doin’ shit till she get to a fucking doctor. You a doctor Johnny?” Lamar interrupted.

  “No.”

  “Then shut the fuck up little nigga.” Lamar sighed and turned back to François. “I’ll talk to Ju Ju tomorrow morning. He’s gonna want to see her for himself.”

  “Nobody touches her without my knowledge.” François instructed.

  “Trust.” Lamar removed a pistol from his pants and pulled the receiver back placing a round in the chamber. “Ain’t nobody touchin’ Taliah Banks.” Lamar looked around for confirmation.

  “Aight nigga. Ain’t nobody touchin’ shit.” Johnny said when Lamar settled his eyes on him.

  “You know I ain’t like that, dog.” Trey suggested when Lamar looked at him.

  Maurice stopped chewing on chips and his eyes went wide when Lamar looked at him too.

  “I ain’t said shit, nigga.” Maurice admitted. Lamar glared at him. “And I ain’t touching shit either...shit.” He continued.

  “Unless it’s another bag of chips, you jumbo sized fried chicken eatin’ ass mothafucka.” Johnny joked followed by an obnoxious laugh.

  “Man, fuck you, nigga. I eat when I’m nervous.”

  “You always eatin’ somthin’, dog.” Trey added.

  Maurice rolled the bag of chips up, placed a freshness clip on it and placed it back on top of the refrigerator. He finished chewing what was in his mouth and licked his fingers clean. By this time, Andrea came into the room with the noodles. She placed the bowl on a table in front of François.

  “Merci beaucoup, Andrea.” He smiled at her and nodded his head. His charm was noted.

  “You’re welcome François wit’ yo fine ass.” She smirked at him and walked away.

  “Where’s my noodles, Andrea?” Lamar turned to her as she kept walking past him.

  “Fuck you, nigga. Make it yo damned self.” She turned her nose up while giving him the finger. Lamar studied François up and down and scowled.

  “I do not mean to be placed between you and your woman Lamar.” François admitted noticing Lamar’s jealousy. He slurped down some noodles and sighed.

  “Naw man, you good. She just trippin’.” Lamar confessed.

  “Do you mind if I just lay here until morning?” François gestured to the reclining chair he was sitting in.

  “Yeah, that’s fine. We’re going to bed anyway.” Lamar studied the clock on the wall.

  “In six hours, I’ll talk to Ju Ju. Come on fellas, let’s give François some privacy.” Lamar continued.

  Everyone stood up and dispersed to their own apartment. Lamar went to the back room where Andrea was feeding one of their sons. François finished his noodles, placed the bowl on the coffee table and reclined his chair back. He studied Taliah’s face and shook his head.

  “You can’t catch a break my chocolate blossom. In the morning François will get you help.” François said just before he fell victim to a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 32

  Trapped In the Vet

  Janice awoke with Stan passed out in her lap. His right hand clenched her left boob. She swatted it away and shoved him off her with her left hand. He rolled off and smacked his face on the concrete floor. He groaned in response, but didn’t wake up. Still sitting and leaning against the door with her back, she used her left foot to kick him, hoping that it would wake the slumbering pervert. He groaned again.

  “Wha...? What’s going on?” He answered. She could hear him slurp up some drool that was on the edge of his mouth. “It’s dark? What time is it?” He followed.

  “Quiet, keep it down.” She whispered in a sharp voice. A brief blue glow of her watch lit up in the darkness. It extinguished a few seconds later. “It’s been about four hours. We should check out what’s going on out there.” She insisted.

  “Four hours? Has it been that long already? Shit, I was out.”

  “You were grabbing my boob. What the fuck Stan?” She spat.

  “I, uh, fuck...sorry Janice. I don’t know what...”

  “Just don’t do that shit again.” She interrupted.

  “Okay, I won’t. I didn’t even realize that I...”

  “Forget it, will ya. Get your shit together so we can see if it’s safe. I need to count on you being ready. These things can see in the dark.”

  “Alright, what do you need me to do?”

  “Check to see if the flashlight works. Shine it at the floor just in case they can see it through the bloody window.”

  Stan activated the flashlight, it illuminated the entire floor revealing the same bloody, shitty, and carcass littered room. They both squinted in response.

  “Okay, turn it off.” She urged.

  He turned it off and a white haze still lingered in their eyes as everything else was bathed in darkness. It took a few moments for the haze to dissipate and their night vision to return. A distant whine deep into the building beyond the door was the only sound they could hear.

  “Do you hear that?” Stan asked.

  “Yeah, sounds like a dog whimpering but that’s all I can hear.”

  “Me too. Think it’s safe?” He asked.

  “Listen, once we open this door, we need to make sure it stays open just in case we need to come back inside.”

  “Got it.”

  “Also, stay close...but not too close.” Her voice was harsh.

  “I know, I know, sorry.”

  “Okay, give me the flashlight. I’m heading for Charles’ gun. If you want to use that bone that you used earlier, it’s on you.”

  “I think Charles was the guy that took my gun. I’ll check to see if he still has it.”

  “Good call, be quick. We don’t have time to linger around in the dark especially without anything masking our scent.” Janice suggested.

  “One...two...three.” She counted and opened the door quietly on three. She activated the flashlight and a gruesome scene of mangled dogs, Azrael, and pieces of Charles smeared across the room. She felt a knot in her stomach and had to swallow down chunks of puke that tried to escape her gut. The aroma was concentrated and overwhelming. The sound of Stan puking behind her made her cringe. “Keep it together Stan.” She whispered. The taste of stomach acid lingered in her mouth.

  “Where’s Charles’ body?”

  “Everywhere...”

  “His gun?”

  “Fuck, Stan, I don’t know.” She admitted.

  Unfortunately, his weapon was finished in black so it didn’t reflect the light like her own silver pistol. She walked through the mess softly stepping on unidentifiable squishy flesh that could have been from any one of the corpses on the floor. She found what seemed to be the chest of Charles. His head dangled precariously by his neck bone covered in only a few in
ches of meat on one side. His eyes were still open and his lips were torn off revealing bloody teeth beneath. The shape of the barrel of his gun stuck from beneath his right hipbone.

  “I think I see it.” She claimed and hurried over to it. As she leaned over to pick it up through his body, Stan noticed movement in the corner.

  “Fuck! What’s that?” He asked and grabbed her right arm. She flinched and elbowed him in response. He grunted in response.

  “Don’t fucking touch me! Those things are everywhere.” She scolded.

  “Sorry, I just saw something over there.” He pointed towards where he saw movement.

  She picked up the weapon, wiped the body fluids off on Charles’ dry shirt, and checked it for damage. She inspected how many rounds she had in the magazine and popped it back in with a click. She immediately felt more confident in their situation.

  “Where did you see it?” She asked.

  “Over there, by those doors over there.”

  Stan walked over, leaned in and checked Charles’ pockets and within his coat for his gun. It wasn’t in his pockets. He must have left it in the van.

  “Shit, he doesn’t have it.” Stan griped.

  The sound of the whining increased in the direction Stan indicated movement.

  “Maybe it’s just an injured dog.” Janice speculated.

  They both walked forward. In her left hand, she had the flashlight aimed at a hunk of flesh moving in the corner. In her right hand, she directed the pistol towards the potential threat. A small body was on top of a bloodied mutt tearing meat from its neck.

  “It’s a little girl...Azrael.” She said.

  “Shoot it.” Stan instructed.

  As he said the words, the Azrael girl stopped eating and slowly turned around. It squinted with a perfect porcelain colored face splattered with blood-red face paint. It brought its left hand up to shield its eyes from the light.

  “What are you doing? Shoot it!” Stan encouraged.

  “I...I can’t. It’s different.” Janice answered.

  The whine of the dog returned through the awkward silence. The Azrael girl resumed her interest towards the whimpering animal and continuing her feast on its quivering body. The sound of her tiny teeth digging into its muscle tendons disturbed Janice.

  “Leave it. It’s not hurting anyone.” Janice insisted and moved towards the front door sending the feeding Azrael girl back into darkness. The sound of it still eating behind them revealed that it was not interested in spreading the virus. However, Stan worried that it would attack them once they turned their backs on it.

  “You should have shot it!” He continued.

  “Enough, my instincts tell me that she’s not a threat to us. So, just drop it.” She argued.

  “It’s an Azrael, Janice. It will always be a threat to us.”

  “Maybe not. I’ll talk to you about it when we get back to the van. Are you ready?”

  “For what?”

  “For me to open the front door.”

  “Fuck it, do it. Gets me away from that thing you left in the dark that could kill us both.”

  Janice opened the door with her weapon and flashlight drawn. The landscape was empty and a silver glow in the grass identified Janice’s pistol. She walked over and picked it up. She removed Charles’ weapon from her holster and handed it to Stan.

  “Here, take this. Got mine back.”

  “Great, finally got some heat.” He felt better that he had a weapon. He reentered the building.

  “Stan? Where the fuck are you going?”

  “Doing what you failed to do, killing that Azrael inside.” Stan walked inside with confidence. Janice followed behind aiming her flashlight in front of him.

  “You don’t have to do this Stan. The girl’s no threa...”

  The Azrael girl was gone along with the dog it was eating.

  “Fuck, where did it go?” Stan investigated the area with confusion. “It’s hiding in the back.” He continued his walk into the back room.

  “Wait! Wait!” Janice cried out and the door to the back room closed in front of her. She tried to turn it but it was locked. She banged on the door. “Stan!”

  Janice heard a garbled scream and a loud thump.

  “Stan! Fucking open the door!” She urged.

  The door clicked and slowly opened. She stepped back shining the light into the dark corners of the room a few feet from the door with her pistol aimed inside. She saw nothing but heard a weak whimper deeper within. What the fuck was going on? Everything inside of her was telling her not to go in there.

  “Stan, are you okay?”

  Again, she was met with silence. She mustered the courage and entered the room. The room was empty...completely empty. A door that exited into the alley was wide open. What happened? Where was Stan? The whimper faded into the distance, through the doors and out into the night’s air but the corpse of the dog was lying lifeless next to the open door. Did that girl make the whimper? Now alone, Janice hurried out of the building and headed straight for the van. Shit had gotten weird and it creeped her the fuck out.

  Chapter 33

  Where the Fuck Is My Bag?--Jimmy

  A sensory overload assaulted Jimmy as a swatch of sunlight rested on his face. The sound of flies swarming, birds chirping, and leaves rustling in the background flooded his hearing in a distorted composition. The bright sunlight triggered his vision to haze while his lenses constantly adjusted for error, seeking a moving target. The aroma of his sweat lingered in the thick sour air that circulated around rancid flesh and possible corpses in the area. Jimmy acquired a sharp headache that throbbed in his head and pulsated at his temple. He felt ill and weak as the room whirled like a child spinning uncontrollably on a merry-go-round. Moments later, he emptied his stomach on the floor next to the bed. A brown teddy bear caught the brunt of his puke causing mucous strands of orange liquid to drip from its ears.

  Where was he? His senses continued to overwhelm his control. Jimmy made an effort to locate his backpack for an immediate shot of the Azrael serum. It had not been a full day yet but his recent engagement had sped up the deterioration process of his cells. With exhausting effort and painfully loud noises disorienting him, he failed to locate his bag on the bed he was lying on. He dangled his arm off the side of the bed in attempt at hooking it if it were leaning against the bed. Again, he was met with failure. Through the sensory attack, he attempted to remember where he placed his pack. An image flickered through the chaos of it hanging from a chair.

  “What chair?” He mumbled to himself.

  He shut his eyes and meditated harder. Still shots of the Azrael battle the night before passed through his mind moving in quick secession...his bag. Where was his fucking bag? A stinging ache dug into his right temple initiating a cringe. A close up image of the Alpha’s teeth lingered in his mind. He could hear its breathing and smell its shit stained breath. It laughed at him.

  “No, I can’t give in...” He wheezed.

  A piercing agony returned to his temple struggling to cease his efforts at controlling his body. A brief flicker of a chair, near a refrigerator, wore his backpack.

  “The kitchen, it’s in the fucking kitchen.” Jimmy slurred.

  He tried to roll to his feet on the opposite side of the vomit soaked teddy bear. His feet stood atop a fleshy mass that lay on the floor next to the bed. It caused his weight to shift and he stumbled into the wall nearby. As his vision struggled to display detail of the object on the ground, the sour smell of it burned his nostrils. A fresh gash in the fragile flesh from the bottom of his boot caused the decaying hide of the animal on the floor to emit a toxic odor.

  Jimmy blinked several times and shook his head with attempts at clearing his vision. Finally, the shape of the creature revealed detail enough for him to determine that it was a decaying Rottweiler. It suffered a bullet hole in its skull signifying its cause of death.

  Jimmy studied the room layout and found the door that led to the bathroom. The s
tench in that room was worse than the dog’s foul odor. He walked over to it and found a random assortment of severed limbs floating in a bloody liquid. They came from several different human bodies and some had human bite sized chunks ripped from the bone. A sudden surge to vomit shot up his throat and blasted into his mouth. He closed his mouth instinctively with the effort to control it. He didn’t need to be dehydrated any further. A second wave denied him of this control and he projectile vomited all over the floor. Warm sticky liquid oozed out of his nostrils and stung his nasal cavities with his stomach acid. He spat out the remnants and wiped his nose and face off with his left sleeve.

  “Fuck, Jimmy, get your shit together.” He whispered to himself.

  It reminded him of François talking in third person. His next contemplation moved to Taliah.

  “Shit, Taliah! Where the fuck is she?” He continued.

  The urgency of his backpack discovery doubled as he fumbled through the house searching for the kitchen. After what seemed like hours of agonizing pain, Jimmy located his backpack. He retrieved a syringe, sucked in a bottle worth of the serum into it and injected the stinging liquid into his right jugular vein. He sat down in the chair that held the backpack, placed his elbows on the table next to it and massaged his face with both hands.

  “Fuck!” He whispered to himself drawing out the word over a few seconds.

  The serum quickly worked its way throughout his body coating each human blood cell in a lipid envelope that held its protective layer for roughly a day. It also helped to feed the Azrael cells rich nutrients of fermented yeast not that different from the ingredients in a high alcohol content stout. This shot places the recipient in a numbing state of drunkenness for about fifteen minutes as the high concentration of alcohol is feeding the virus the yeast bacteria. This keeps the virus cells from attacking the human cells throughout the body, which would cause the necrosis event to take root. An overdose in the serum would provide a temporary boost in overall performance but would encourage the virus to attack itself in a cannibalistic hunger. A massive amount of adrenaline is discharged into the bloodstream. As a result, it thrusts the heartrate into a dangerously fast interval. An overdose would kill the body and invite the necrosis event to settle in. There is no coming back from this. Anyone who invites imminent death is either a fool or making a fatal last stand.