“At the risk of stating the obvious,” Sams said carefully, “we do have two kids that somebody needs to keep an eye on. Plus we’re almost black on ammo.”
“No, Walker said we’ve got ammo,” Foster said. “It just needs to be loaded into the magazines. Maybe whoever is here with the children can have them help with that task.”
“Let me guess,” Lizzy interrupted. “You want the little women to stay here, babysit, and hand load magazines while the big strong men go on the dangerous missions.”
“Come on, Lizzy, be reasonable,” Foster said. As soon as he said it, he immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Be reasonable?” Lizzy shouted. “I’m sick and tired of playing babysitter to kids that aren’t mine. I’ve been on one mission so far. One. So when the hell do I get to go somewhere?”
“The same time the rest of us do,” Walker answered. “Listen, babe—”
“Don’t try and sweet-talk me, Nicholas,” Lizzy Walker said with a warning tone to her voice. “You know I have a point.”
“I wasn’t trying to,” Walker said carefully. “It’s just that some of the boxes of supplies are quite heavy.”
“Yeah right.”
“I carried some of them into the attic myself,” Walker pointed out. “Do you want to be the person lugging them out of an attic, down a flight of stairs, and to the trucks?”
“Not particularly,” Lizzy said. “But I’d do it if I had to.”
“Right. But there are other people here that are stronger and would have an easier time lifting heavy boxes.”
“Uh-huh,” Lizzy said. Her arms crossed in front of her body. “Keep digging, buster. You’re neck deep right now. So what about the armband mission? Care to tell me why I can’t go and get those?”
“Okay, let’s talk about it,” Walker said. He let out a low sigh before continuing. “The only place we think we can find them right now is off the dead Guardians by the marina.”
“Well, it’s not like I haven’t seen dead bodies before,” Lizzy said. “Or did my thickheaded husband forget that I was a nurse in a city hospital?”
“Please let me finish. And no, I didn’t forget,” Walker said. “Hon, what if they already removed the bodies? Or we cross paths with a Guardian patrol and get in a gunfight?”
“Or get attacked by Reapers,” Sams pointed out.
Lizzy and Walker shot him a look, and the former Ranger immediately clammed up.
“There’s a high likelihood that whoever is in an unplanned firefight could be injured. So who do you suppose is going to patch us up afterwards?” Walker continued. “Do you think any of the men could deliver medical care as well as Amanda or you?”
“You could manage, if you had to.”
“Hon,” Walker said carefully. “If I’ve been shot and am slowly bleeding out, do you want Charles or Malcolm trying to administer aid because you’re off on a different mission?”
“That’s not fair, and you know it.”
“This whole situation isn’t fair. None of us asked for this mess. But all of us need to work together to stay alive and get through it.”
“You made your point, Nicholas,” Lizzy grumbled. “But don't think for a minute that I’m happy about it.”
“Of course not, dear,” Walker said. He paused for a moment before adding, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being a team player.”
“Uh-huh,” Lizzy said before turning her back to her husband, signaling the conversation was over for now.
“All right, two missions,” Foster said, “Supply retrieval and armband collection. Anything else?”
“Three people would probably be the bare minimum for that retrieval mission,” Walker said. “I’d post one person by the vehicle. They could guard your ride and still be able to keep an eye out for hostiles. The other two would retrieve the supplies and bring them back to the vehicle in the meantime.”
“Well, how about if I take Charles and Gregory with me?” Foster suggested. “We’ll head back to Gregory’s house. With three of us, the box hauling should go quicker. If Gregory starts to feel light-headed—”
“I’m fine,” Gregory protested.
“Well, that’s right now. But if you need a break,” Foster continued, “your dad could help me while you guard our transport.”
“That could work,” Gregory answered. “But that leaves Derrick and Walker to go get the armbands by themselves. They’re more likely to run into trouble than we will. Should they take Lizzy or Amanda?”
“Negative. That would leave only one adult to protect the children and our base of operations,” Walker answered. “Don’t worry. Derrick and I will be fine.”
“Famous last words,” Foster quipped.
“I think a pair of Rangers have better odds than a cop assisted by two civilians,” Walker countered. “Besides, we’re doing a snatch and grab. We run into trouble, we’ll just shoot our way out.”
“Wait, what?” Lizzy blurted. “Are you seriously looking to get into a gunfight?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll bring your husband back safe and sound,” Sams interrupted. “I promise.”
“I’m feeling so much better,” Lizzy grumbled. “Two trigger-happy idiots going off unsupervised.”
“Yeah, maybe we should get going, Nick.” Sams chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll stay safe.”
“All of us will,” Walker added. “Come on, let’s get going. It’s not getting any earlier.”
Chapter Twelve
Ezekiel was struggling to get through the latest daily update. If he was being honest, it was the type of task that was far beyond anything the conman had ever had to do in his previous life. He wished he could dump the task onto Joseph, but the man was already overloaded with work and resistant to adding even more. And right now, there wasn’t anyone else that Ezekiel felt like he could trust to read some critical and confidential information. He could feel a headache developing from reading over the boring material. Ezekiel tossed the stack of papers onto his desk and began to massage his forehead.
There was a knock at the door, and he called out, “Come in.”
Joseph stepped into the room and gestured for someone else to follow.
“I don't believe we’ve met,” Ezekiel said. He studied the man standing confidently next to Joseph. He looked to be about fifty years old and rough-looking. The man was wearing the appropriate Guardian arm bandage, which surprised Ezekiel because he thought he had previously met all of the Guardian members.
“This is Silas,” Joseph introduced. “He’d like to talk to you about leading the Guardians.”
“I see. And what makes you believe that you are qualified to lead?”
“You want to talk in front of the pansy here?” Silas asked. “Or have a real heart-to-heart?”
Ezekiel’s eyebrows shot up. “Joseph, perhaps you should wait out in the hall,” he said slowly.
“Sir, I don’t think—”
“I’ll be fine,” Ezekiel answered. “If I need you, I’ll call you.”
“As you wish, sir,” Joseph replied. He turned and headed toward the door without pause.
Ezekiel waited until his trusted assistant stepped out of the room before he continued. “You seem to be a man who takes no issue with speaking his mind.”
“Way I see it, when you and I talk, we can be honest with each other,” Silas said. “Outside of this room, well, I’ll tell them whatever you want me to say.”
“Really?” Ezekiel said. “And why should I believe you?”
“You’ve got a good thing going here,” Silas said. “Not sure how you keep those monsters in check. Don’t really care, either. What I do know is that with Walter biting it, you need someone in charge of your Guardians. Someone like me.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I ain’t afraid to do whatever needs to be done.” Silas stared intently at Ezekiel. “Anything.”
“This man Foster and his group have become a
serious headache for us,” Ezekiel said carefully. “They’ve killed our protectors. They killed Guardians, too.”
“So you want me to mess him up a bit? Or you want him dead?”
“I prefer you bring him to me alive.”
“Huh. Well, might be a little harder, but okay, I can do that. What about the rest of his side flunkies?”
“They’re yours to do whatever you want with,” Ezekiel said. “Do we have a deal?”
“Oh, we have a deal,” Silas said. “This is going to be fun.”
Angel Vasquez awoke with a start. She looked around her and saw nothing but an unfamiliar environment. A dominant voice suddenly spoke up in her head, telling her that this was her home.
Not home.
Angel shook her head. This place felt wrong. It wasn’t familiar to her. The voice spoke again, insisting that she was here with her family.
Angel quickly agreed. She didn’t really believe what the voice was telling her. But it was the easiest way to get the annoying voice to shut the hell up.
She didn’t know why, but she kept having this dream of falling out of the sky in some type of metal machine. She was holding something in her hands to guide this machine in the sky. A smaller voice quickly suggested she had been hunting the ones who claimed to be her family now.
Was she going crazy with all of these voices in her head? Or was it part of the truth? Angel just didn’t know. She didn’t have any clue where she was. Or why she was even here.
There was only one thing she knew: Every time she rebelled against that dominant voice in her head, she felt an overwhelming wave of pain and nausea. Maybe it was better for now to listen to that voice. She could quietly observe her surroundings and listen to what others had to say. That didn’t cause her head to hurt.
Angel stood up and stretched her arms toward the ceiling. She walked carefully toward the open space in the wall. The small voice in her head called it a doorway, and she immediately felt that must be right. So far, the small voice hadn’t lied to her. Maybe she’d try to listen to it more often. The trick was to do it without triggering the louder voice. Anything to avoid the pain that made her head feel like it was going to explode.
She inched her way to the edge of the doorway. There was a guard leaning against the wall with its head tilted back. The creature wasn’t moving, and Angel inched forward cautiously. She crept toward it, stopping a few steps away. Angel watched its chest rise and fall, slowly. A low, rhythmic sound rumbled out of its body.
Snoring, she thought. The guard is sleeping instead of watching me.
Maybe it was time to do some exploring. A quick search of her surroundings to get some answers on her own. It wasn’t disobeying the dominant voice. If anyone stopped her and asked, she’d say she was just looking around. Or maybe had gotten lost. It might be a tiny lie. But it was probably an easy one that wouldn’t be questioned by most of these so-called family members. Angel glanced at the still-sleeping guard and then quietly headed down the hallway in the opposite direction.
Chapter Thirteen
It was late afternoon when the Tahoe pulled to a stop in front of Gregory’s house. The front door was a splintered mess. The exterior of the house looked worse than Foster remembered. It was hard to imagine the damage was strictly due to the Reaper attack that forced his group to flee their previous base.
“Do you think the supplies are still there?” Charles asked.
“I sure hope so,” Gregory said. “Otherwise, this is a wasted trip.”
“They should be,” Foster said. “Like Nick said, the attic is the last place that people will look when they're looting a house quickly or scavenging. Even so, keep your eyes and ears open. We don’t know if there's any unwanted company in the house.”
“How do you suggest we proceed?” Charles asked.
Foster studied the two men in front of him. Neither one was a trained fighter. Neither had any military or law enforcement background. While each was competent with a gun, he wasn’t sure how well either one could handle themselves on their own.
“Pull up at the back of the house,” Foster said. “We’ll go through the back door and clear the ground floor together. Then I’ll clear the basement and the upstairs before we proceed any further.”
“What about the SUV?” Gregory asked.
“Make sure it’s locked,” Foster said. “We can’t be in two places at once. I’d rather have the two of you watching each other’s backs while we’re in the house until we know it’s completely secure.”
“Are you saying that we can’t protect ourselves?” Gregory demanded. “I’ll have you know—”
“Relax, son,” Charles said. “Malcolm would rather us be safe than sorry.”
“What if one of you stumbles into a room with five Reapers in it?” Foster asked. “Do you feel like you could handle that on your own? Because I sure as shit couldn’t.”
“You think we shouldn’t have come with you?”
“I didn’t say that,” Foster said. “Like your dad said, there’s safety in numbers. And with more than one of us, we can make sure that nobody is sneaking into the house behind us.”
“I guess,” Gregory grumbled.
“That’s why I suggested we clear the ground floor together,” Foster said. “Then, I’ll clear the basement while you two keep an eye on anyone or anything coming down the stairs from the second floor or the back door. Then we’ll clear the top floor. Once we know the house is completely secure, we can start retrieving our supplies. I think we can grab the supplies and get back to base in time for dinner.”
“Sounds good,” Charles said. “We should get started while we still have plenty of daylight.”
Foster was on his third trip to the attic when his comms came alive. “Malcolm, please answer. This is Charles.”
“What’s up?” Foster said.
“We’ve got company coming our way. About ten Reapers.”
“Copy that. We’re on our way back,” Foster answered. He turned toward Gregory. “Head for the Tahoe. We need to back up your dad. Double time.”
The two men began hustling down the stairs. Foster had reached the bottom of the stairs when his comms came alive once more.
“Malcolm, where are you guys? There’s even more Reapers showing up. What do I do?”
“Get in the car,” Foster said. “We’re almost there.”
As Foster reached the ground floor, he heard a door slam. He drew his weapon, anticipating an unknown number of hostile intruders. But as he rounded the corner, Foster saw only Charles. The back door was now closed behind the former priest, and he was gasping for air.
A moment later, there was a slam at the door.
“Dad, are you okay?” Gregory asked.
“Y-Yes.”
Foster heard a second boom, and the door trembled from the blow. Then another slam happened a split second later. Foster looked at the door. There was no way in hell it was going to hold against the relentless Reaper assault.
“Out the front?” Gregory asked.
“No time,” Foster said. “There’s nothing to stop them from coming in that way. Fall back to the attic.”
He brought up his rifle and took up a firing position as Charles and Gregory squeezed by him up the stairs.
“Come with us, Malcolm,” the former priest pleaded.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Foster answered. “Don’t worry.”
There was a loud ripping sound, and a Reaper’s head pushed through a hole in the rear door. Foster fired an immediate double-tap, scoring a direct hit in the monster’s face. The Reaper’s head disappeared from the opening, and a new one appeared in its place. Foster fired at the new enemy and watched it drop out of sight. The door started to crumble into the house, and Foster moved up two steps on the staircase. He set his feet and fired once more. Another Reaper dropped a split second before the rest of the door collapsed.
Foster opened fire, selecting targets as fast as he could acquire them. But the Reaper
s continued to pour through the doorway. He was hopelessly outnumbered. He continued to fire and felt the bolt on his rifle lock open. Foster let the rifle drop and felt the weapon’s sling go taut as it broke the rifle’s fall. He drew his Glock and continued to backpedal up the stairs to the second floor, working his way back toward the attic.
“Come on!” Gregory screamed.
Foster continued to back up until one of his feet bumped into the attic ladder. He risked a quick glance and saw he had bought himself a few seconds before the Reapers would reach his position. Foster holstered his weapon, grabbed one of the ladder rungs, and began climbing up. As he entered the enclosed space, a gun exploded near his head. The noise was deafening, and his ears immediately began to ring. Foster’s instincts kicked in, and he spun where he was at on his belly to grab the rope for the attic ladder.
One Reaper was lying on the floor below, a pool of new blood forming by its head. Another one charged into view and leapt toward him. Foster flinched instinctively a moment before a gun went off near him once more. He saw several bullets strike the Reaper’s body, and the creature tumbled off of the ladder.
“The ladder,” he gasped between breaths. “Pull the ladder.”
He felt his two friends moving around him and saw the ladder begin retracting up into the attic. The attic door closed, and there was a loud crescendo of growls and roars underneath them.
“Too close,” Foster said. He did a quick mental check. None of his body parts was reporting anything more serious. He’d have to check more thoroughly at some point. The ringing in his ear was starting to decrease, which was a good sign. At least the close-proximity gunfire hadn’t blown out his eardrum. Another lucky break, and hopefully not the last one he’d ever get.
Foster turned toward where he thought Charles was and added, “Why the hell didn’t you get in the Tahoe like I told you?”
“I’m sorry, Malcolm. T-There were just so many of them.”
“Dammit,” Foster said. “Does anybody have a light?”
The Wretched Series | Book 4 | Wretched Aftermath Page 7
