SA国际传媒

My name is鈥� no, I shall not give you my Name. That is known but to me and God, and the hosts with whom I share consciousness. Still, you must call me something. Very well, you may call me鈥� Kindred.

I was given a legion to command in the War in Heaven, and I did so with honor. I fought, and slew, numbers of my brothers beyond reckoning, and soon ascended to the rank of Archangel, one of eight.

When it became apparent that we would win, that the rebellious angels among us would be cast out, the Creator gave me another task as penance for my doubt. I was to betray my command and be cast out with the Fallen, to keep watch among them, to track their movements, to thwart them whenever I could.

When a confluence of natural events and the machinations of one exceptionally deranged human allowed my brother Azazel to escape Hell, I broke cover and followed him. Shunned by Heaven and Hell alike, I鈥檝e been pursing him for thousands of years.

His voice has forever been the one to teach men of war, and subjugation, and violence. He teaches them to fashion armor, and cunning ways to fashion weapons. Women, he taught to tart themselves up, to paint their bodies and fashion their clothes to appeal to the baser notions of men. He wanted them to make objects of themselves.

He moves from host to host by mere touch. He cares not a whit about free will, or the physical well-being of his vessel. He regards them as expendable commodities, and his stigma is not easily erased. A soul tainted by his touch will never make it into Heaven if the vessel dies while inhabited. He takes special glee in taking over the body of a good person, wreaking all sorts of havoc while inhabiting their vessel, and then abandoning them to face the consequences 鈥揵oth on this plane and the next. In fact, he was the origin of the term 鈥渟capegoat.鈥�

He has been known by many names 鈥揂zazel, Samael, Rasputin, Hitler, Pol Pot, a thousand others. Dante Alighieri knew him as Guido da Montefeltro. The ancient peoples named him in a series of hoots and grunts. Today, in this age, you call him Sumdood.

And I cannot rest, or return to God鈥檚 presence, until he is banished back to Hell.

*

By the time they had Kennetra loaded in the ambulance, she was trying to breathe on her own. Mike had put Devin in the airway seat to bag while Lindsay drove, and Bryan ordered Devin to titrate ventilations to a CO₂ of 30 mmHg. He looked at Bryan questioningly, and he explained, 鈥淪he鈥檚 probably acidotic as hell in addition to her hyperkalemia, kid. Patient like that needs to breathe a little faster to compensate.鈥�

鈥淟ike Kussmaul breathing,鈥� Devin said, understanding dawning on his face.

鈥淟ike Kussmaul breathing,鈥� Bryan confirmed with a smile. He looked at Mike, 鈥淵ou need anything else from me before you go?鈥�

鈥淧ressure鈥檚 still pretty crappy after half a liter of fluid,鈥� Mike answered as he plugged settings into his IV pump, 鈥渁nd I don鈥檛 really wanna give her more fluids. Do the trick for the kid.鈥�

鈥淐ome on, Mike,鈥� Bryan protested.

鈥淒o the trick,鈥� Mike urged. 鈥淧ressure鈥檚 only 78/40. She really does need some dopamine.鈥�

Bryan sighed in acquiescence and Mike winked, 鈥淲atch this, Devin.鈥�

Bryan looked speculatively at Kennetra for a moment and said, 鈥淟ooks like she weighs鈥︹��

鈥�236 pounds,鈥� Remy answered automatically.

鈥溾�� about 236 pounds,鈥� Bryan said. 鈥淒opamine dose for 5 micrograms is 21 ml/hour. Double it if you want some vasopressor effect.鈥�

Devin was still staring at him in wonder as he shut the rear doors, and he heard Mike saying, 鈥淲atch when they weigh her in the ED, kid. It鈥檒l be friggin鈥� dead-on. Never seen anything like it鈥︹��

*

鈥淥kay, what is this witchcraft, and can you teach it to me?鈥� Devin McCarty demanded as Bryan got out of his truck on the ambulance ramp of LSU Interim Hospital. He was disinfecting the ambulance stretcher while Mike gave a handoff report, and he stared at Bryan Thibodeaux as if he gave milk.

鈥淧raise and hosannas are unnecessary, my son,鈥� Bryan intoned sonorously. 鈥淪imply kissing my ring will suffice.鈥�

The paramedic student let out a bark of laughter and said, 鈥淣o, I鈥檓 serious. They didn鈥檛 teach us any of that stuff in paramedic school. How do you know all 迟丑补迟?鈥�

鈥淒o you think that the reason they send you to do clinical rotations is because you can鈥檛 learn everything you need to know in the classroom?鈥� Bryan pointed out, taking one end of a paper fitted sheet and wrapping it around the stretcher mattress.

鈥淢y paramedic instructor had a million little tricks of the trade,鈥� Devin argued, 鈥渁nd I鈥檒l bet she doesn鈥檛 know that stuff.鈥�

鈥淵ou know what most of those tricks of the trade are, Devin?鈥� Bryan asked, and then answered his own question. 鈥淢ost of them are showing off and useless trivia. A few might prove useful now and again, and a whole bunch of them are pure garbage. About fifty percent of what is taught in medic school is wrong. The problem is 鈥� 鈥�

鈥淣obody knows which half,鈥� Mike Trahan finished as he walked out of the Emergency Department. 鈥淗e says that all the time.鈥� Mike looked at Devin and winked, 鈥淒id you tell him?鈥�

鈥淲eight was 236.4 pounds, and dopamine dose was 21 ml/hr on the dosing chart.鈥� Devin shook his head. 鈥淗ow do you do 迟丑补迟?鈥�

鈥淭he other point-four pounds must have been her clothing,鈥� Remy sniffed.

鈥淢y mother was a carnie,鈥� Bryan explained seriously. 鈥淭he weight-guessing lady took my virginity when I was 14. Aside from ushering me into manhood with her sweet, sweet lovin鈥�, she also taught me her trade.鈥�

Lindsay did a spit take, spraying coffee all over the side of the ambulance. 鈥淪hit,鈥� she sputtered. 鈥淚 got coffee up my nose!鈥�

Bryan, proud of his wit, was just about to reply when he was interrupted by the radio. 鈥�3164, 6205, 23-Delta at Chartres and St. Peter. NOPD on scene.鈥�

鈥淭hat鈥檚 us,鈥� Bryan announced. 鈥淪omebody OD鈥檈d at Jackson Square, sounds like.鈥�

鈥淎nother Sumdood sighting,鈥� Mike groaned as he got in the front of the ambulance and buckled in. 鈥淵ou strapped in back there, Devin?鈥� he yelled to the back. When the reply came in the affirmative, he keyed his radio mic, 鈥�3164 responding. 6205 is with us.鈥�

鈥�!0-4, 3164 and 6205,鈥� came the reply. 鈥�0445 hours.鈥�

*

Heroin addicts reported seeing visions with the new drug and many of them claimed it allowed them to commune with spirits. Cops took to calling the new designer heroin Sumdood, because when asked where they bought their supply, the junkies would simply shrug and say, 鈥淚 dunno, man. Just some dude.鈥�

Bryan Thibodeaux parked his sprint vehicle behind the traffic bollards on Rue St. Pierre, met Mike and Lindsay as they exited their rig, and helped them lug their equipment and stretcher down the pedestrian mall toward a knot of New Orleans Police officers clustered around a prostate body curled up in the shrubbery near the wrought iron fence around Jackson Square. 鈥淵o, Bryan. What鈥檚 up man?鈥� one of the cops greeted him with a smile.

鈥淭he usual, brother,鈥� Bryan answered with his standard reply. 鈥淪aving lives, stamping out disease and helping the little old ladies of Orleans Parish who have fallen and can鈥檛 get up.鈥�

The officer chuckled and directed his flashlight toward the body, a skinny white kid with dreadlocks, in the shrubbery. 鈥淟ooks like another Sumdood overdose,鈥� he observed. 鈥淲e gave him two squirts of Narcan up the nose before you got here. So far, nothing.鈥� The junkie鈥檚 kit lay nearby, still open, and the kid still had a tourniquet wrapped around his arm. His face was grayish blue, his eyes half-lidded and he gasped spasmodically every ten or twelve seconds, like a fish out of water.

Lindsey gently scooped up the kit and handed it to one of the cops as she knelt by the junkie鈥檚 head, inserted an oral airway, and began ventilating. Devin knelt near the kid鈥檚 left arm, trying to palpate a suitable vein to insert an IV.

鈥淕ood luck kid,鈥� Mike grunted. 鈥淕uy鈥檚 probably wrecked his veins. If you can鈥檛 find something quick, drill the leg.鈥�

鈥淲e know it鈥檚 Sumdood?鈥� Bryan asked quietly. In reply, one cop handed Bryan a tiny empty, waxed paper envelope. It bore a silhouette of a man鈥檚 crowned head with a question mark in it.

鈥淪umdood,鈥� Bryan chuckled darkly, grasping the meaning of the logo. 鈥淭he mystery man.鈥�

鈥淟ast couple of months, we鈥檝e been finding them with this stuff,鈥� the NOPD lieutenant grunted. 鈥淣ew Orleans DEA says it鈥檚 Mexican, probably comes in on Interstate 10 from south Texas.鈥�

鈥淪o why do they call it Sumdood?鈥� Devin asked as he gave up on finding a vein to cannulate and opened the intraosseous kit.

鈥淲ho鈥檚 the babydaddy to all the unwed mothers around here, kid?鈥� Without waiting for a reply, the cop answered his own question, 鈥淪umdood.鈥�

鈥淲ho supplies the minors with their booze?鈥�

鈥淯h, Sumdood?鈥� Devin asked.

鈥淐orrect,鈥� the lieutenant answered. 鈥淎nd when we wake these guys up and ask them who their dealer is, they all say 鈥楽umdood.鈥欌��

鈥淓very tourist that comes here and gets his ass whipped SOCMOB,鈥� the first cop grumbled, 鈥渢he best description they can give us of their assailant is Sumdood.鈥�

鈥淪ock-mob?鈥� Devin parroted, confused. Mike handed him a pre-filled syringe containing two milligrams of the opiate reversal drug naloxone, and the paramedic student quickly injected it into the needle he had drilled in the patient鈥檚 left tibia.

鈥淪tanding On Corner, Minding Own Business,鈥� the lieutenant translated.

鈥淪tatistically the most dangerous thing you can do in any major city,鈥� Bryan chuckled in agreement. 鈥淢ost assault victims were doing just that when it went down.鈥�

鈥淥r sitting on the front porch, drinking a wholesome glass of milk and holding their weekly Bible study,鈥� Mike chimed in, 鈥渨hen all of a sudden and for no reason鈥︹��

鈥溾�� they got jumped,鈥� Lindsay finished, 鈥渦sually by Sumdood.鈥�

鈥淟indsay, you getting anything up there?鈥� Bryan asked.

鈥淭rying to breathe through the bag now,鈥� Lindsay confirmed as the patient began to weakly toss his head back and forth. 鈥淏reathing鈥� oh, I鈥檇 say twelve a minute,鈥� she judged. Suddenly, the patient opened his eyes and his back arched. Everyone present knew what that meant and hurriedly backed away.

Everyone, that is, except Devin McCarty, paramedic student.

He was rewarded for his slow reaction with a lap full of vomit and a pink, glistening oral airway lying in the puddle. 鈥淥uch,鈥� Bryan said sympathetically. 鈥淔irst time getting puked on?鈥� The kid just stared at him in shock, mouth working soundlessly. The patient immediately collapsed back onto the ground and rolled to his side, groaning.

鈥淗ey, you鈥檙e not a sympathy puker, are you?鈥� Mike asked in alarm, and every cop present immediately backed up even further.

鈥淚鈥� 鈥淚鈥檓 okay,鈥� Devin stammered, barely stifling a gag of his own.

鈥淵ou got a spare uniform at the station?鈥� Bryan asked. Devin shook his head, no. 鈥淲ell, this is just a night of important lessons for you, isn鈥檛 it?鈥� Bryan shrugged, not entirely sympathetically. 鈥淣o matter, the hospital can get you some scrubs, and I may have a spare job shirt in my Suburban.鈥� Likely the kid had been briefed by his clinical coordinator on the necessity of bringing a spare uniform, but for some people the lesson didn鈥檛 stick until they had to wear something foul for a few hours.

Bryan helped the crew of 3164 load their patient on the stretcher and walked alongside as they pushed the laden stretcher down the cobblestones of the pedestrian mall toward their idling ambulance. He carried the crew鈥檚 ALS response bag in his right hand and kept his left on the stretcher rail. The patient was breathing adequately on his own now but still moaning and mumbling incoherently, when he suddenly began thrashing wildly on the stretcher, threatening to topple it over.

鈥淲hoa!鈥� Mike exclaimed as he stopped pushing and tried to stabilize the unsteady cot. 鈥淐alm down, dude!鈥�

Bryan dropped the ALS bag and turned toward the patient, placing both hands on his shoulders and pushing him back down onto the stretcher. The kid was surprisingly strong and fought like a madman, and the cops reached for the kid鈥檚 wildly flailing arms. Before they could corral him, he grabbed Bryan by the shirt collar, hauled Bryan鈥檚 face down to his own and hissed in vomit-laden breath, 鈥淚 see you. I seeeee you, Watcher.鈥�

He hissed something else in Bryan鈥檚 ear before the cops got his arms controlled, and Bryan backed away as they restrained all four of the junkie鈥檚 flailing limbs to the stretcher. 鈥淵o Bryan, you okay?鈥� Mike asked in concern.

Bryan stood rooted to the spot. 鈥淔ine,鈥� he nodded absently. 鈥淵ou go on, I鈥檒l be there with your equipment directly.鈥�

Bryan had seen a flash of recognition in the junkie鈥檚 eyes when he grabbed him, although he was certain he had never seen him before. Most chilling of all was the name he had whispered; a name Bryan had never spoken aloud. It was Remy鈥檚 name.

Not just his name, it was his Name.

In the melee, Bryan had dropped the envelope the heroin had been packaged in. He bent down, picked it up and turned it over to discover a symbol on the other side.

He did not recognize the symbol, but Remy did, and he felt his companion鈥檚 bone-deep shock as he stared at the envelope in his hand.

鈥淭hat is the sigil of Azazel,鈥� Remy said grimly. 鈥淗e knows who we are.鈥�

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Excerpted with permission from
Independently published (December 30, 2022)
Available on in Kindle, paperback and hardcover formats