The Azrael (Book 4): Tricon

by Gagnon, Jesse

  Fifteen minutes passed and Jimmy’s entire body felt rejuvenated as the drunken numbness faded away. He still had the desire to rest but he did not have the luxury of another siesta. He gathered his wits and formed a plan to locate François and Taliah. He ate a MRE that he found at the bottom of his bag, restoring vital nutrients to his human cells. The bacteria built up in his digestive tract fed the virus cells that settled in his intestines. It also produced some gnarly smelling gas.

  Jimmy exited the house in a slow walk wearing his backpack and holding the strap that wrapped over his shoulders with each hand. A weak breeze carried the stench of the dead Azrael near his car. He noticed that he left the door open all night.

  “Shit! Battery’s probably dead.” He murmured and approached the car with grief.

  He reached in and placed the key into the ignition, attempting to turn it over. It didn’t respond. Fortunately for Jimmy, he had a battery-recharging machine in the trunk. He wasn’t sure if it had enough juice to restart the car but it was charged enough to run the air compressor. He retrieved it from the trunk, connected it to the battery and tried to start the car. It whined weakly for a few evolutions but with a bit more effort, it eventually started.

  “Hot damn! Looks like my shitty day’s turning around.” He spoke to himself.

  Jimmy sat in the seat and squinted from the sun’s glow all around him. He retrieved a pair of sunglasses from the glovebox and donned them. He sighed, closed his door and continued north on the road hoping to see François or Taliah. He had no way to track them down but knew that he must find her before Mark Sloan did.

  After a few minutes of driving up the road, intuition brought him to an intersecting road and he turned left on it. After a mile or two, he encountered an apartment complex. Men with a various assortment of firearms guarded it. Against his better judgment, he approached the gate in a slow roll. He brought down his window and attempted conversation.

  “The fuck you want white boy?” A man with an assault rifle, military fatigues, and a matching camo patterned bandana spoke first.

  “I, uh, am looking for a couple of friends of mine. I found their car crashed in a small river just under a bridge nearby.”

  “Look around, you see em? It’s too damned hot to be inside. AC broke a year or two ago, ain’t nobody inside.” The man gestured to the residents that enjoyed the day as if nothing was a threat out there, a community thriving despite the horrible nature of the world. He failed to find François or Taliah among the people. He noticed a few men acting suspiciously when he looked at them. They walked over to the steps of an apartment building, hidden by shade.

  “Well, if a white male with a French accent travelling with a young teenage African-American girl makes an appearance; could you give me a call?” Jimmy tried to hand the man a business card. The man scowled, turned back to his post while shaking his head.

  “This guy...” He laughed as he returned to his post failing to take the card.

  “What’s wrong?” Jimmy asked with confusion while still holding the card between his left index and middle fingers.

  “Are you fucking with me?” The man appeared annoyed.

  “No...I’m not following?”

  The man approached the car.

  “I don’t know what world you still live in, but we dont’ have working phones here. Where you livin’ with workin’ phones? Some rich white community. Get the fuck outta here with that shit.”

  “I’m just looking for my friends. That’s all. I’m sorry you don’t have working phones or air conditioned housing.”

  “You’re not sorry. You don’t give a fuck what happens to us man. We livin’ out here cut off from your honkey-dory world. But we livin’ We’re surviving. Don’t pity us. I pity you.”

  “Pity me?” Jimmy glowered.

  “I pity you haven’t realized that the old world is done. We fucked up and this is our punishment. Wake up nigga. Now get the fuck away from my gate.”

  Jimmy nodded and backed the car up. He focused his hearing towards the people watching him from a distance. He listened to their words.

  “What he want?” A woman asked a man who was cooking on the grill.

  “I don’t know, Andrea. Grab me a plate.” The man instructed.

  “Aight, you need anything else?” Andrea asked.

  “Get yo’ bad ass kids out the pool. We drink that shit!” He gestured to a group of boys fighting in the pool just beneath a downspout that collected rainwater from the gutters.

  Jesus, they drink that water. Jimmy thought.

  He rolled to a stop and turned the wheel towards the exit. He focused on another group while bringing down the rest of the windows in the car with three fingers.

  “You think he’s lookin’ for that French mothafucka?” A man whispered to a man on the steps in the shade of the building.

  “Don’t matter; they left hours ago in Ju Ju’s car.”

  “Think Dwayne told ‘em?”

  “That nigga knows better.”

  “Lamar, I’m gonna eat. Want me to grab you a plate?”

  “Yeah, nigga, I’m eatin’.” Lamar answered and continued to watch Jimmy pull off.

  Jimmy headed back towards the main road and brought all of the windows back up.

  “Shit, missed them again.” He mumbled to himself. He decided to head back to the safe house to update the Veil and shower. He smelled his pits. He needed a fucking shower.

  Chapter 34

  Toko’s Plan for Giselle and Jason

  After a few days of much needed rest and recuperation, Giselle, Jason, Toko and Samantha gathered around the dinner table with maps and charts of Illinois. They were planning their departure, direction of travel, and safest route to the Veil’s Facility.

  “If we travel along 64 east, then we could follow that until we merge onto 57 south. That should be a direct route to the Veil’s Headquarters.” Toko directed as he followed along the map with his hand.

  Jason grunted and tapped the end of his left fingers on a spot two inches from where Toko indicated the Veil HQ was. Using the legend and scale per inch ratio, the place he was gesturing to was roughly twenty miles away. Nothing on the map near that location rang a bell in Giselle’s ear.

  “What the fuck’s there Jason?” She asked with confusion.

  Jason grunted and shook both fists in frustration. He let out a ripe pocket of gas from his ass. It lingered in the area causing everyone besides him to flee the room.

  “Are you kidding me?” Giselle coughed beneath the collar of her shirt. It smelled like moist roadkill that sat in the sun for three weeks.

  Toko’s eyes were watering and he struggled to keep cool in the next room as the hot cloud of invisible death spread throughout the house centered on Jason’s ass. He shrugged and turned to everyone with annoyance. He grunted again.

  “Your ass, Jason, it stinks. Give us a minute, all right.” Giselle hollered from the other room when she heard Jason grunting.

  A few minutes past and everyone returned except Samantha. She refused to expose herself to that poison in an enclosed space ever again and with good reason. Jason gestured to the same place and grunted. He scanned the area for a way to communicate his thoughts. He noticed his father’s grandfather clock and pointed at it. Giselle turned to see what he was pointing at.

  “Vacuum?” Giselle asked.

  Jason shook his head. The vacuum was directly in front of it. He walked over and touched the clock.

  “Oh, clock.”

  Jason nodded.

  “Clock what?” Giselle asked with impatience.

  Jason studied the area searching for something specific. He knew that he saw a picture earlier that day that could help. After a few moments searching, he found the picture of his dad posing with their mother in front of an old Ford pickup truck.

  “Dad?” Giselle asked.

  Jason ruffled his brow and shook his head. Again, he walked over and touched the truck with his finger.

  �
�Truck?” Toko asked.

  Jason shook his head with a defeated morale. He tapped the picture once more.

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. It’s a goddamned truck Jason.” Giselle squinted and studied the picture further with no luck.

  “Old?” She fished for answers. She raised one hand in the air as if that was the dumbest word for her to say. Jason agreed and stomped his feet like a furious toddler who didn’t know how to explain something. Jason found another picture of the same truck. This time the letters ‘FORD’ were much larger and easier to point to. He walked over to it and tapped it impatiently while looking at Giselle.

  “Ford?” She asked while scrunching up her face.

  Jason smiled and nodded.

  “So, clock and Ford. What the fuck, Jason? All of that shit for two things that don’t go together?” She asked.

  “Clock...Ford.” Toko said them both aloud and agreed with Giselle. Jason grabbed the photo still in the frame from the wall and placed it on the clock. He gestured to the Clock and then to the photo.

  “Two words or one?” Toko asked.

  Jason held up his index finger.

  “So Clock Ford is one word?” Giselle jumped in.

  “Clockford?” Toko and Giselle asked at the same time.

  “What is a Clockford?” Toko inquired.

  As he said the words, it reminded Giselle of a place that they stayed at when they visited Aunt Beverly. She lived in a small trailer and owned over twenty cats. Their mother would let them sleep in Aunt Beverly’s house. They stayed at...

  “Clockford Suites! That’s it. It’s in a tiny town with a population of maybe fifty-two. That’s why it’s not on the map. Jesus, I forgot all about that place. Aunt Beverly’s cats were disgusting.” Giselle recalled and the aroma of her aunt’s house came to mind.

  Jason nodded and smiled. He gave her the thumbs up and tapped at the place on the map again.

  “Did you set that place up too? Is that another Jason discovered safe house?” Giselle asked.

  Jason nodded and wore a massive grin.

  “So, what is he saying then? Why stop at that place when it’s only twenty miles away from the Veil?” Toko asked.

  “Because Jason isn’t going to the Veil and neither is Samantha.” Giselle was catching on to Jason’s plan.

  “Can’t you imagine the wealth of knowledge we can learn from your brother?” Toko argued.

  “Jason doesn’t want to be studied. He doesn’t want to be some lab rat to discover weaknesses on those things. You have me, Toko. That will be enough.” Giselle glared at Toko. “I can say if a test goes too far. He can’t, not like I can.” She continued.

  “I thought you wanted to be with your brother?” Toko pushed harder.

  “Not like that, no. I never wanted that. I wanted to find him to make sure that he was okay. I wanted to find out more about myself. I want to help you figure out a way to go forward into tomorrow without the need of a daily Azrael serum.” Giselle admitted.

  “What about the girl? You cannot leave her with him.” Toko argued while gesturing to Jason.

  “I’m fine with it. I can set up traps to keep me safe and lock him up in a room at night when he loses his control of the virus.” Samantha said as she walked back into the room. She may have been in the other room but she still paid close attention to the conversation they were having.

  “It may be a while?” Toko admitted.

  “How long is a while?” Samantha asked.

  “Yeah, how long?” Giselle asked to.

  “Maybe a week or two?” Toko speculated.

  “Oh, that’s nothing.” Samantha retrieved her backpack and opened it up. There were about twenty-eight cans of assorted versions of pasta in a tomato sauce.

  “Where did you find all of that?” Giselle asked.

  “In the basement, there’s two more left. I left them for you two.” She admitted.

  “Two? You took twenty eight for yourself and left us with...two?” Giselle scowled at the young girl. Samantha hid behind Jason.

  “How else do you think I survive out here? It’s either feed my appetite or die doing something stupid because I’m starved into recklessness.”

  “The girl’s got a point.” Toko agreed.

  “Fine, if she’s got a point, then you just lost your can of pasta to me. I’m stupid when I’m hungry as well.” Giselle stormed down to the basement to retrieve the last two cans.

  Feeling sorry for Toko, Samantha handed him two cans of pasta. She held a finger to her mouth for him to keep quiet about it. He nodded and placed them in his bag. Moments later, Giselle came back up.

  “Would you believe that one of these is a can of green beans? Jackpot!” Giselle raised it in the air as if it were a trophy. Samantha hid her reaction behind a smile knowing that she left that can of green beans on purpose. Who likes green beans?

  After a few more hours of developing a final plan, the group decided to head out the next morning after a good night’s sleep. Samantha planned on studying Jason’s movements and behavior a bit closer to help prepare her for her interactions with the Awakened Azrael in the future. She waited until he relinquished control to the virus before she settled into her bed. She observed him through a hole in the floor of the living room. While locked in the basement, his behavior changed from calm to crazy in seconds. She also thought-out each type of trap she would use if he managed to escape that would stop him without killing him. Yet, she also needed to create lethal traps outside that would kill any intruders. She showed Giselle and Toko her plans before she climbed into her bed. They seemed impressed with the attention to detail and her ingenuity. Samantha could have easily been a long lost relative to the Stone family, Giselle pondered.

  *

  Throughout the night, Samantha studied Jason’s mannerisms and took notes in a small notebook that she found in one of the rooms. The first few pages had some illegible words written by whoever lived there before. She flipped past those pages and began on the fourth page. Her aunt preached about details.

  “Pay attention to details, Sam.” She used to say.

  Samantha wished that she paid closer attention in the beginning of all of it. Nevertheless, that was in the past now. She can’t change that. However, she can prepare for what comes next. While sleeping, Jason was like a child. Although, he appeared wild and dangerous, he reacted to his environment with an inquisitive mind. Was it the by-product of the real Jason behind the mask of crazy? She jotted down what she saw.

  Jason banged on the door that would exit the basement to the outside if there hadn’t been a large rusty riding lawnmower blocking it. It alarmed those that were attached to the lawnmower and they attempted to push the immovable object out of the way with no success. Their bodies were far too weak and there were dozens of vines wrapping around the old rusty pile of junk holding it in place. Did Jason’s body cause the others to respond to his struggles? She wrote down what she saw.

  A tennis ball fell off a large wooden bookcase that held books, toys and other random assortment of items after he struck it while attacking the door. It didn’t appear intentional. It was just close enough to the door and to Jason’s temper tantrum. As the ball fell, it bounced off the concrete floor several times before finally rolling into the far corner being drawn to the lowest point of the floor. She watched as Jason’s eyes followed the ball immediately after it fell from the bookcase. He appeared intrigued by it suddenly coming to life and mesmerized by its movements. He followed it on all fours as it rolled into the corner. When it stopped, he stared at it for a minute. He grunted inches from it, awaiting a response. He turned to face the door again and then looked back at the ball. He grunted once more. Seconds later, he turned back towards the door and growled. He stood to his feet and charged into it with his shoulder. The sound of the door striking the lawnmower hid the sounds of broken bones in Jason’s shoulder. He snarled and rolled on the ground in pain. He punched the door in response with his left
fist. Sounds of the others outside grunting followed the punch to the door. She marked down what she saw.

  Within minutes, Jason was back up and assaulting the door again. The monotony of it bored Samantha and she decided finally to get some rest. She grabbed her blankets, pillows and sheets and laid them on the floor next to the hole so she could still keep an eye on Jason before she fell asleep. An mp3 player filled with songs that she bought years ago was charged thanks to the generator that she could still hear humming on the opposite side of the house with a low grumble. She put one earbud in her left ear as she lay on her right side. The other dangled beside her on top of the blanket.

  Jason attacked the door to a theme-music that sang to her left ear. The intense drumming drowned out the sounds of Jason’s constant barrage of attacks on the door. Eventually, the vocalist screamed controlled words that followed along to the music in a garbled melody that created one epic rock song. Her head bounced to the rhythm of it and her lips sang along to the lyrics in a quiet whisper. Her eyelids pulled down over her eyes as if they weighed a ton. She blinked several times to draw the feeling to sleep away. Samantha wanted to study Jason a bit more. She hadn’t found anything useful yet. Well, the ball thing could come in handy if she wanted to play catch with a flesh-eating zombie. Moreover, that is if the ball is more exciting than the taste of her skin in his teeth. The notion made her cringe and she tried to shake it away. Jason suddenly stopped attacking. He looked up at Samantha and sniffed. She froze and watched as her heartbeat suddenly felt as if it would explode out of her chest. Why was she so scared? He can’t get to her. Maybe it was the fact that he found her or maybe the idea of his body knowing that she was there creeped her out.

  Seconds later, the unthinkable happened. Jason’s head bobbed up and down in a cadence that followed along with the music. She studied his movements further as she listened to the same song. He was listening to it quietly while still searching the source up above. His head thrashed viciously to the rhythm of the drums and his arms flailed wildly. What was going on? She jotted down what she saw.