The Wretched Series | Book 4 | Wretched Aftermath

by Michaels, E. G.

  “Afraid not. Like I said, we’re still very early in getting things set up. I could really use some additional help.”

  “What kind of help?” Vickers asked.

  “You name it. We need it. But for starters, I could really use more research assistants and doctors.”

  “We are continuing to look,” General Weindahl said. “The process has not been easy, because there’s been a great loss of our population to either death or Reaper transformation. The universities appear to be equally hard hit.”

  “Honestly, I don’t care if you’ve got to pull them out of some no-name lab in Greenland or Asia,” Compton said. “We’ll figure out how to communicate with each other. I just need people that understand geek to make the science work.”

  Vickers cleared her throat. “I’m not quite sure I follow.”

  “Right, you’re not a scientist. Okay, let me try to explain this,” Compton said. “There’s a certain terminology that we biologists and virologists use. If we’re all talking in that language, then translating it from Spanish to English or some other language becomes a lot easier.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure,” Compton snarked. “Ever heard of Google Translate?”

  “You’re assuming the Internet will continue working for the foreseeable future,” General Weindahl said. “That’s not a guarantee.”

  “Well, let’s hope so,” Compton said. “Otherwise, we won’t be having meetings like this. Now, unless there’s something else, I really need to get back to work.”

  “That’s all for now,” the President said. “Appreciate you taking the time to meet with us, Doctor.”

  “Uh-huh,” the doctor said quickly before disconnecting the call.

  Vickers turned to the general. “Charm school dropout?”

  “It would appear so,” Weindahl admitted. “But with our current situation, I’m afraid we don’t have the luxury of being picky with who we work with.”

  “In other words, beggars can’t be choosers?”

  “I’m afraid so. Especially for microbiologists.”

  “Your niece alerted you about Dr. Compton?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Weindahl replied. “But she neglected to mention her lack of people skills.”

  “Your niece. Is she...?” Vickers let the question linger uncomfortably.

  “She’s safe. They managed to reach her husband’s boat safely,” Weindahl said. “They’re anchored about ten miles from Southern California.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.”

  “Indeed.”

  “So while the good doctor and her team are working on figuring out the Reapers’ weaknesses, do you have any other ideas for battling the Reapers?”

  “We’ve got a couple of tentative plans in place, Madam President,” Weindahl answered. “But nothing concrete. Operation Firestorm really set us back.”

  “Yes, I’m painfully aware,” Vickers said bitterly. The recent military operation had been a complete bust. The failed firebombing hadn’t killed any of the targeted Reapers. And from the drone footage, it looked like the bombing had just temporarily inconvenienced the monsters.

  “One option is...”

  “If you say nukes, Rasheed,” Vickers warned, “So help me, I’ll order you to clean every toilet on this ship.”

  “I understand your frustration, ma’am. I truly do. I just think that it’s premature to rule it out as a possibility.”

  “Keep it parked on the back burner until I say otherwise,” Vickers ordered. “What else do we have?”

  “There are some options we haven’t explored yet.”

  “Come on, Rasheed, talk to me,” Vickers pleaded. “I just listened to a song and dance from Dr. Compton. I don’t need one from you, too.”

  “With all due respect, Madam—”

  “Our boys are getting killed out there, General. We need something to knock these damn Reapers on their ass and start turning the odds in our favor.”

  “We’re thinking some type of biological attack.”

  “Like anthrax?”

  “No, more like some type of nerve agent, ma’am. They’re living creatures. If they can’t breathe, then they’ll die.”

  Vickers sat up straighter in her chair. “Keep talking. Is there any way that we can just isolate the monsters and avoid any potential civilian fatalities?”

  “Probably not at this time,” Weindahl said. “It’s difficult to determine what only kills the Reapers versus any humans in the area. I’ve been thinking it over. Instead of some type of nationwide multi-pronged attack, I’m thinking something smaller.”

  “Because we lack the personnel to hit more than one target at once? Or more of a test strike?”

  “Both, actually,” Weindahl admitted. “We’re stretched really thin.”

  “So we don’t know if this will work to kill the Reapers or not,” Vickers thought aloud. “But if we tried a single attack at one location, then we’d know if it worked pretty quickly.”

  “Indeed, Madam President,” Weindahl said. “If it works as well as we believe it will, we can roll out further attacks throughout the country.”

  Vickers steepled her fingers together. “I like it. Any particular area in mind?”

  “It appears that Richmond, Kentucky, has a good number of Reapers.”

  “A good number?”

  “Forgive me, ma’am. A wrong choice of words. Richmond is not a large city. At least not compared to many others in our country. Population in the area is also not as dense, so the risk of any potential collateral damage is further decreased. If we can identify a right location where there’s a high concentration of Reapers, we could hit them with a tactical strike.”

  “I like it.”

  “Do I have your authorization for Operation Poison Arrow?”

  “You’re damn right you do,” Vickers said. “It’s time to hit these bastards and hit them hard.”

  Chapter Ten

  Beeks strolled into the room like he owned the place. Which, being the King of all Reapers, he more or less did. The creature being kept in the room looked up at him with curious eyes. She had once been a human, and a part of Beeks’ mind suggested that she had been an attractive one, too.

  But in her current battered and bloodied state, she was anything but that. There was a patch on her shoulder that suggested she was a military pilot. He tried to recall her name. Angel. That was it. He wasn’t sure he’d let her keep it. If he did, then it might trigger some of her past memories. But even in her current condition, Beeks found himself getting aroused by what he saw in front of him. A low growl of excitement exited his lips, and she looked away.

  You, Beek said mentally toward her. I command you to look at me.

  She slowly looked up at him. There was a look of defiance in her eyes. No fear there. Everyone else was afraid of him. Why wasn’t this recently turned one, too?

  “How are you feeling?” Beeks asked.

  “Fine,” she answered aloud.

  “My soldiers tell me you refuse to eat.”

  “Not hungry.”

  “You will be soon,” Beeks said. “You should eat something.”

  “No.”

  “There's nothing wrong with the meat. One of my best warriors personally killed the cow.”

  The female shook her head side to side vigorously. She wrapped her arms around her knees and drew them up tight to her body and began rocking back and forth slowly.

  “I take care of all of my family, and you’re one of my family now, too.”

  “I don’t know if I want that.”

  “What?” Beek snarled. He lashed out mentally, and a small cry of pain came from his prisoner.

  “What other choice do you think you have?”

  “I-I’m not sure,” she stammered.

  “Sure about what?”

  “My head. It hurts all the time.”

  Beeks reached to her and saw her pull away. He stopped and withdrew his hand.

  “I don’t know who
I am,” the female said as she continued to rock back and forth. “I don’t know how I got here or what I’m supposed to be.’”

  “You’re with your family.”

  “Family? So how come I don’t know anyone’s name?” she shouted. “I don’t even know my own fucking name.”

  “That language is unacceptable for a female in my family,” Beeks scolded. “I won’t warn you again.”

  She continued to rock in silence.

  “Would you like me to give you a name?”

  “I told you,” she roared. “I can’t remember my name.”

  Calm down, Angel, Beeks blurted out. He immediately regretted his mistake. Why did he share her previous name? He had named so many others in his family. It was an easy way to remind them that he was the one in control and not them. But Angel? The name did seem to fit the female in front of him.

  “Angel?” she said softly.

  Beeks let out a low grumble. “That’s what you told me your name was before. If you want a different one, speak up now.”

  Angel immediately stopped rocking. “It’s a good name,” she said carefully. She tilted her head to the side and began studying Beeks. “Why am I here?”

  “You’re home. Here with your family,” Beeks said. “Eat something, and rest. Soon we’ll go out hunting.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. If you’re not hungry, then at least get some rest before the big hunt.”

  He turned and strode out of the room. Stopping outside, he looked at the two guards standing outside the entranceway.

  “If she tries to leave, stop her. But do not hurt her. She belongs to me.”

  “Of course, my Lord,” one of the soldiers mumbled. The other appeared to be distracted.

  Beeks felt his blood begin to boil. “Look at me,” he growled. Both soldiers went ramrod straight. “If she dies, both of you will die.”

  Both soldiers immediately dropped to one knee and bowed their heads in front of him.

  “Yes, Master,” they both said together. “No harm will come to your female.”

  “You wanted to see me, sir?” Joseph said.

  “Yes,” Ezekiel said. He set his glass of bourbon down carefully on the only piece of still intact furniture in his office. The cult leader shifted uncomfortably on a folding chair. “We need to talk about the Guardians.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Joseph blurted. “What happened to your office?”

  Ezekiel looked away. “I lost my temper. Took it out on some of the things in here. I’m better now.”

  “I see,” Joseph answered with a measured tone. He wasn’t about to ask his boss about the visible welts and bruises on his face. And Ezekiel didn’t seem eager to volunteer the information, either. “What about the Guardians?”

  “With the death of Walter, we need someone to lead them.”

  “It could be hard after that battle,” Joseph confessed. “The people are a bit shaken.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve never seen the congregation more committed to finding Foster and his group. They want to make them pay for what they did.”

  “But not the Guardians. They were the ones in the battle. They were the ones who bled and died. They saw how Foster and his group handled themselves. From what I’ve heard, his group is a bunch of trained killers.”

  “I don’t want excuses. I want solutions,” Ezekiel answered. “Find somebody among the Guardians who isn’t scared. Bring them to me, and I will interview them personally.”

  “As you wish, Ezekiel.”

  “Joseph. One more thing.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I’m growing tired of the condition of my office,” Ezekiel said. “See if you can have someone bring in some new furniture.”

  “Of course. Do you have any particular requested pieces in mind?”

  “Not at this time. Now that I’ve had time to reflect on my actions, I’m regretting my temper tantrum.”

  “I’ll see what I can quickly collect and have delivered here.”

  “Thank you, Joseph,” Ezekiel answered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I’m just happy to be of service,” Joseph said. “Now if there’s nothing else, I’ll see to finding some new furnishings for you.”

  “That will be all,” Ezekiel said. “If you wouldn’t mind showing yourself out, I would appreciate it.” The cult leader reached for his glass of bourbon without waiting for an answer.

  “Of course,” Joseph answered quickly. “I’ll be back when I have an update for you.” He bowed quickly and retreated from the room.

  Chapter Eleven

  Their car hunting hadn’t gone to plan, and now Foster was hoping that Gregory hadn’t been hurt badly by the home explosion. Somehow the two men managed to get back to the gun shop without running into any more trouble. They were back on the second floor, and Foster was watching quietly as Amanda continued to examine Gregory thoroughly. Foster heard a noise and turned in time to see Lizzy entering the room.

  “How did the vehicle shopping go?” Lizzy asked.

  “A little rocky, but we survived,” Foster answered.

  “Wait,” Lizzy said. “What happened?”

  “They got a little banged up,” Amanda said. She finished examining Gregory and gave him a quick, reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Especially Gregory. I’m surprised you didn’t wind up with a concussion, considering you cracked your head.”

  “That’s a relief,” Gregory replied. “I guess I got lucky.”

  “My vote is hard head,” Sams added as he walked into the room. “Probably got it from hanging out with Malcolm.”

  “Is anybody going to tell me what happened?” Lizzy demanded.

  “Sure,” Foster answered. He quickly explained about the booby-trapped house.

  “That’s crazy,” Lizzy replied. “You could have been killed.”

  “Like Gregory said, we got lucky,” Foster said. “At least the trip wasn’t a total loss. I was able to find a black Chevy Tahoe on our way back here.”

  “You found one that wasn’t disabled?” Walker asked. “I don’t believe it. Derrick and I must have checked two dozen vehicles during our recon mission.”

  “Lucky break, I guess. It just needed a battery,” Foster said. “I grabbed the one out of our old ride, and it started right up. The Tahoe might be tight quarters with all of us in it. But if we pack light, then we might be able to make it more bearable.”

  “Nice,” Lizzy said. “As soon as we drain the fuel out of the Land Cruiser and put it in the new wheels, we should be ready to roll.”

  “Eh. My vote is to grab a second vehicle,” Sams said. “More cargo capacity. What about painting one of our old vehicles again? That trick worked once before. It might work again.”

  “Already thought of it. The problem is we don’t have any place to do the paint job here,” Foster said. “Plus, we’d need to get the paint, too.”

  “A quick paint job might fool the Reapers, but it’s not going to fool any human patrols,” Walker said. “Don’t forget we still need more supplies. Some of those Guardian armbands would be helpful, too.”

  “You really think they’re going to work?” Sams asked. “I’m surprised they don’t change the color on the bands every day.”

  “Why?” Walker countered. “It seems like they run this town. I doubt they have a problem with stolen armbands.”

  “Nick has a point,” Foster said. “Most people here don’t seem like they’re willing to go up against the Disciples.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I still wouldn’t mind having the armbands,” Walker said carefully. “It’s like having extra ammo. I’d rather have it than run out in the middle of a firefight.”

  “You’re comparing bullets to armbands?” Sams challenged. “I’d expect something that weak from Foster, not you.”

  Foster decided to change the subject before things could become heated between the two former soldiers. “Speaking of ammo,” he said, “we might as w
ell pick some up while we’re collecting food and medical supplies.”

  “Didn’t we leave a bunch of stuff at Gregory’s house?” Lizzy asked.

  “No ammo, but we did leave some other supplies,” Foster said. “It could save a lot of us some time to swing by there and collect it.”

  “Especially with the Guardians and Reapers actively patrolling the rest of town,” Sams said. “Probably best to avoid a confrontation, if possible.”

  “I agree,” Foster said. “All right, we need to swing by Gregory’s house for supplies and getting the armbands. Am I forgetting anything?”

  “Off the top of my head, we could use more food and medical supplies,” Sams answered. “More coffee would be great. I’d love some alcohol, too. But not any of the cheap stuff.”

  “Call me crazy,” Foster said, “but I didn’t think you’d want to drink booze with some many hostiles breathing down our necks right now.”

  “It’s for Hope Island. I doubt they have much alcohol there,” Sams said. “And I plan on having several stiff drinks once I know we’re safe from potential Reaper attacks. Ooh, just thought of something else. We gotta get some Tastykakes, too.”

  Several people in the room groaned at once.

  “What?” Sams protested. “I haven’t had them in ages. There’s the chocolate cupcakes, the butterscotch krimpets—”

  “Leave it up to Derrick to put in a junk food order,” Walker quipped. “You eat too much of that stuff, and you won’t fit in the Tahoe with the rest of us.”

  “Wait. Are you saying I’m getting fat? Because I could still outrun you—”

  “Getting back to the business at hand,” Foster interrupted. “I need somebody to go with me to pick up the supplies. Once we have them, I’ll drop them and the supplies off here and then go after the armbands.”

  “Not a fucking chance,” Sams said. “You’re not Jack Bauer.”

  “Who?” Amanda asked.

  “The do-everything hero from an old TV series,” Walker answered. “Derrick has a good point. You don’t have to do everything by yourself, Malcolm. There’s a whole group of capable people in this room with you.”