“With our luck,” Foster added, “they could have a second device hidden somewhere else on the boat that they detonate as soon as we pull away from shore.”
“Lot of work to booby-trap every boat in a marina,” Walker thought aloud. “If it were me, I’d just have a few people trained to use an RPG. They could just blow any boat being stolen right out of the water.”
“Leave it up to my military husband to offer an even nastier possibility,” Lizzy snarked. “So it sounds like everyone thinks using a boat is out. And we definitely can’t stay here for long. So what do we do?”
“We need to get out of Rehoboth somehow,” Foster said. “Once we’re clear, I can call Black and see if he can send somebody to come pick us up.”
“By boat?” Sams asked.
“Maybe. Plane or maybe a helicopter might be possible, too,” Foster said. “As long as it can get all of us to Hope Island safely, I really don't care what type of transportation we use right now.”
“I am not riding a garbage truck,” Lizzy said. “So don’t get any ideas about hijacking one.”
“Can’t rule it out,” Walker said. “They’re built to take a pounding and could easily roll through any packs of Reapers we might encounter. If it rolls, then we can roll out of here.”
“You might have a point, Nicholas.” Lizzy sighed. “Right about now, I’d walk to Hope Island if I had to. I’m so tired of dealing with these Reapers. And now we got to deal with these knuckleheads who’ve pledged allegiance to them or joined forces with them.”
“All of us want to get someplace safe again,” Foster said. “I wish there was a way we could get even more people there.”
“One step at a time, man,” Walker said. “We need to get ourselves out of our current situation before we can worry about helping anyone else. Our current vehicles are burned. If they didn’t recognize them before the marina, they certainly do now.”
“Any chance we could buy new ones from anyone in town?” Foster asked.
“I doubt it,” Gregory admitted. “If they’re not already aligned with the Disciples, then they’d be scared to death of alienating them.”
“It probably wouldn’t hurt to get some additional supplies to replace what we lost in the boat,” Sams added. “Bullets for sure, maybe food.”
“It sounds like we need to do a couple things,” Foster said. “Then we can focus on our escape.”
“Such as?” Lizzy asked.
“Well, we need to do some recon and figure out where there could be a weak spot in the Disciples’ security patrols. We need to find an area where we can get out of town with minimal conflict or opposition. We also need to get some new vehicles.”
“That’s something any of us could handle,” Lizzy said. “Who do you suggest goes?”
“Not exactly. Anybody who goes out is definitely going to be at risk. If they’re not spotted by the Reapers, they could be spotted by the Disciples.”
“You mean someone who’s ready for a fight, if they get in one.”
“Yeah, I have some people in mind.”
“None of us are getting any younger,” Walker growled. “Quit stalling and lay it out already, Malcolm.”
“Fine,” Foster said. “I think our former Army Rangers, Nick and Derrick, are best suited for the recon mission.”
“Sneak-and-peek mission,” Sams said softly. “I’m down with that.”
“Exactly,” Foster answered. “You two take a look at what's going on outside this place. Find an exfil path for us. Just as important, don't get spotted, and don't draw any unwanted attention to our location. Any objections to those two guys handling that part of the mission?”
A series of shaking heads answered him.
“Good. To be honest, I wasn’t sure anybody else would be as capable to pull it off,” Foster said. “Okay, second mission. Like Nick mentioned, we’re going to need some new vehicles.”
“How many are we talking about?” Charles asked. “And we buying or stealing them?”
“At least two of them in order to fit everybody in,” Foster said. “We’ll focus on visibly abandoned trucks and SUVs.” He heard a chorus of soft yeses sound out. No one in their group was interested in stealing someone’s vehicle and leaving them in potential dire straits. Especially with so many Reapers prowling the area.
“Abandoned doesn’t mean they’re going to be easy to take,” Sams pointed out. “Plenty of them are going to be locked up. And if you get into them, it doesn’t mean you’ll be able to start them without a key.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Foster said. “The thing is, I’m a cop. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to legally break into a car because their owner had locked themselves out. There’s been a few times where I’ve had to hot-wire a car, too.”
“It sounds like you’re volunteering to handle finding us some new rides,” Walker quipped.
“I guess I am,” Foster admitted. “We need at least two SUVs, so I’d like to take another person with me to help bring the vehicles back.”
“If you don’t mind, I would like to go,” Charles said. “I’ve worked with Malcolm before, and I feel comfortable working with him again on something like this. We have also posed as uncle and nephew in the past. If we run into any other people, we could certainly use the same story once more.”
“All good points,” Foster said, “but I’d like to take Gregory with me instead.”
“What? Why?” Lizzy blurted out.
“Well, it would be really helpful to have a local guide. Someone who might know the best places in town to be able to grab an abandoned vehicle with the least amount of chance of running into Disciple or Reaper packs.”
“So what are you going to have the rest of us do?” Lizzy demanded. “Dump babysitting duty on the women and grandpa again?”
“Honey, you know that’s not how Malcolm feels,” Walker said. “He’s raised some really good points on why he’s picked the people he did for each of these missions.”
“I don’t think calling it babysitting is fair to anyone,” Foster said. “Sure, we need somebody to keep an eye on Emily and Henry. But we also need somebody to keep our base of operations secure. There’s more than one entrance to the second floor. I think it’s unrealistic to ask any one of us to do all of those things by themselves at once.”
“The police officer raises several good points,” Sams snarked. “I’m amazed he gave it that much thought in between donut runs.”
Foster ignored the verbal jab and continued. “Lizzy. I value everything you do. Amanda, too. If it helps, I can leave the sat phone with you. You’ll be able to keep trying to reach Sergeant Black. The sooner we can find out if it’s possible to get a ride to Hope Island, the better.”
“Uh-huh.” Lizzy sulked. “Next time, you get to stay here and hang out with the kiddos while Amanda and I go exploring.”
Foster lost his cool. “This isn’t about playing favorites. This is about doing what is best for the entire group. And right now, all of us need to check our fucking egos and focus on getting shit done.”
“Malcolm,” Walker warned. “There’s no need to curse.”
“Hey, Nick. I’m not telling you anything that you don’t already know,” Foster continued. “Dammit, we need everybody to get on the same fucking page. Because the Disciples and Reapers aren’t going to care who’s doing a supply run or guarding our base. They’ll gladly kill all of us if they get the chance.”
“Okay, guys, this is starting to get a little much,” Sams interrupted. “Chill out, everyone.”
“No, Malcolm is right,” Walker said quietly. “All of us can do a better job of keeping our eyes focused on the endgame. We need to work together to get all of us safely to Hope Island.”
“Okay, well I think that settles things for now,” Sams interrupted. He clapped his hands once with a fake flourish. “So unless anybody else has some objections, I say we get moving.”
The room went silent for an uncomfortable moment.
“One more thing,” Walker said. “Let Derrick and me do the recon and report in before you head out. We can let you know where the greatest areas of enemy activity are. That way, you guys don’t stumble into a trap while you’re looking for new wheels.”
“Good point,” Foster answered. “We’ll wait to hear from you before heading out. It couldn’t hurt to let some of the group grab some sleep while we’re waiting, too.”
“Uh-huh,” Lizzy said. Her smile shifted into a playful smirk. “Since you’ll be waiting for our local Army boys to come back, I’m sure we can find something for you to do in the meantime.”
“Actually, if you and some of the other adults want to grab some sleep, I’ll spend some time with Emily and Henry,” Foster said. “It might be nice to get to know them a little better.”
Lizzy did a double-take. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Malcolm.”
“You’re welcome,” Foster answered softly. “I’m happy to help. All you have to do is ask me nicely.”
“You’re right,” Lizzy said. She released the hug and stepped back slowly. “We need to work better as a team.”
“Okay, awesome. Hatchets have been buried, and not in anyone’s skull,” Sams said. “Now that that’s out of the way, Nicholas and I are going to head out to see if we can figure out how to safely get the hell out of this town. We need everybody to play nice while we’re gone.”
“We’ll be fine,” Lizzy said. “If anybody gets out of line, Amanda or I will handle it.”
“Game time, everyone,” Walker added. “I don't expect us to have more than a day here before we get unwanted company. We need to be gone before that happens.”
Chapter Two
It's been said heavy is the head that wears the crown. As the unquestioned leader of the Reapers, Horatio Beeks was feeling the weight of leadership. He felt absolutely no shame in saying he was in the ultimate position of power. He could even argue that he was the most powerful being in the United States. And soon, his power would reign supreme over the rest of the world, too.
The U.S. military had attempted to defeat his warriors through a series of bombings, only to discover that the Reapers weren't killed by fire. It had been their strongest attack yet. Beeks had to grudgingly give credit for their effort, but it wasn’t enough to topple his forces. And once he launched a counterattack, his forces crushed their opposition. Now, the shattered remains of the U.S. military had been forced to retreat in defeat.
But they weren’t completely gone, and Beeks couldn't give up on the idea of killing every remaining military member. It was the only way to guarantee they couldn’t attack his minions ever again. The problem was reaching them. Most of the human armed forces had retreated offshore. And much to his chagrin, his soldiers lacked the ability to swim.
He was arguably the most powerful being in the world. There were no rivals left to contest his place as the King of Kings. And Beeks was completely miserable. For starters, there wasn’t anything for him to do. His soldiers kept telling him that it was too dangerous for him to go anywhere. Beeks couldn’t see how that could be, but it was easier to humor them and just stay home. But staying home all the time meant he was bored as hell. He found his temper getting shorter and shorter all the time. Especially the minions who seemed to be dimwits. For all of their incredible physical abilities, some of them couldn’t seem to remember to come in out of the rain, unless Haas or one of his Alphas told them to.
Haas. What was he going to do with him? It was obvious the soldier had great hatred for Beeks. He made the least amount of effort to try and hide it. Of course, Beeks couldn’t really blame him. He had killed Haas’ best friend in front of him. And before Giles’ body had begun to cool, Beeks forced Haas to submit and swear fealty. Well, it didn’t matter how much Haas might hate him. The King of Kings could do whatever the hell he wanted, and nobody could stop him. It was best for Haas to learn that now. Beeks had thought adding Haas as one of his Alphas would help. Except it hadn’t. Haas was one of his elite warriors. Quite possibly the very best individual one under his command. But he spent most of his time sulking or doing the bare minimum to complete any assigned task. In short, Haas had become the latest pain in his ass. Maybe it would be good to give Haas something to do that would get him out of Beeks’ hair for a while. Beeks glanced around his throne room, his eyes eventually settling on a guard who didn’t appear to be paying attention.
“You there,” Beeks said in a series of growls.
The creature went immediately ramrod at attention. “Yes, my Lord,” the Reaper replied a bit too eagerly.
Beeks frowned.
“Go tell Haas and Achilles I want to see them.”
“My Lord, couldn’t you do that?” the soldier questioned. “I’m not supposed to leave my station.”
“Are you questioning my orders?”
“No, sir,” the young soldier stammered. He quickly backpedaled out of the throne room. He was barely out of sight, and his rapid footsteps could be heard almost instantly.
Beeks was pleased. It was good for these young bucks to remember who their master was. Especially important to quell any idea of ever challenging for his place in the pack. Things were going exceedingly well, and his pack now numbered in the millions.
Still, there was that one annoying human that somehow eluded his soldiers so far. Foster. He couldn’t believe one human could be so damn lucky so many times in a row. Well, it was time to end this human’s luck.
Beeks reached out to his messenger. “Tell them to hurry the hell up,” Beeks commanded. “I do not like waiting.”
“Yes, sir,” he heard the soldier mentally answer. Beeks felt the creature’s heart race even faster, and he couldn’t help but smile. It might not be a perfect life, but it was still damn good to be the king.
Chapter Three
Ezekiel Morgan checked his appearance in the mirror once more. The former conman turned self-anointed evangelist liked what he saw. He still looked calm and in charge, even if his stomach was churning out of control. It was that damn failed attack. I should have told Giles it was a bad idea. He shuddered at the thought. His former friend was now a Reaper. And with each day that passed, the former human seemed to be losing his grasp on his humanity and was becoming more short-tempered. Like a monster.
You’re dealing with a dangerous animal that could turn on you at any time. When are you going to realize you can’t control it? Ezekiel shuddered uncontrollably again. It was terrifying to think what Giles was capable of. Heck, Ezekiel had seen him tear apart nonbelievers at his signal, and that was just to scare others into joining his flock. Imagine what would happen if this non-human actually went rabid and started tearing people apart? There was no way Ezekiel could stop him, except to maybe plead with him to stop. Jesus, he needed a drink. Just a small one to help steady his nerves a bit more.
Ezekiel backtracked to his liquor cabinet. He pushed aside several top-shelf bourbons and grabbed a half-empty bottle of Monkey Shoulder. He opened the corked bottle, poured himself a finger’s worth of the blended Scotch, and then recapped the bottle. He slammed the liquor back and felt it burning as it worked down to his stomach. It would have been much better to sip the wonderful alcohol and let the elixir work its magic gradually. But he didn’t have time to enjoy the drink. A rapid warming sensation began to spread through his body. He set the now-empty glass next to the bottle and started walking slowly toward the door.
He’d been drinking more often lately. It might be the pressure of keeping up appearances. Now, more than ever, his flock was expecting him to be their fearless leader. One who received guidance from God himself. A religious leader who the Divine had chosen to be able to communicate with these Reapers. Giles was right. He was pulling off the con of a lifetime. And now he needed Giles more than ever to keep the charade going.
This man, Foster, was dangerous. He’d been faced with overwhelming odds. And when the proverbial smoke cleared,
there were bodies everywhere and Foster was still alive.
Worse, he hadn’t heard from Giles. Was his friend hurt or dead?
Not dead.
Ezekiel hadn’t heard of anyone killing a Reaper besides shooting them in the head. And Giles was too smart to put himself anywhere near a gunfight. Not when he had hundreds, maybe thousands, of foot soldiers to send in his place instead.
Ezekiel turned his attention to the door. It was time. He needed to speak to his congregation. He needed to inspire them to act. Despite their own doubts. Despite even his own doubts. Ezekiel took a long, calming breath and gave himself one last pep talk.
One more speech. Just a little one. Then I signal Giles that I want to talk. If I’m lucky, he won’t see it until tomorrow, and I can just sit in my study and drink some more. Just enough to forget about things for a while.
There was a knock at the door, and President Mary Vickers looked up. “Come in, General,” she said calmly.
The door slowly opened, and General Weindahl stepped into the room.
“How did you know it was me?” Weindahl asked. “Did your protective detail tell you that I was here?”
“No at all,” Vickers answered. “You have a very distinctive walk.”
“Really?”
“You have a tendency to drag your left foot a little bit.”
“Just an old football injury that periodically flares up,” Weindahl admitted. “It's been bothering me a little lately.”
“Lately?”
“Just for a few days, ma’am.”
“Then you should have the ship’s doctor take a look at it.”
“Perhaps I will,” Weindahl said. “Once things calm down a bit.” He stood still, waiting for the President’s full attention.
Vickers internally groaned. Just once she’d like to make it through a day without some type of crisis or urgent matter that needed her attention. “Something on your mind, General?”
The Wretched Series | Book 4 | Wretched Aftermath Page 2
