The Wretched Series | Book 4 | Wretched Aftermath

by Michaels, E. G.

  “Go in through the front or the back?” Foster asked.

  “You’re asking me?” Sams said.

  “I’m asking you in terms of likely booby traps.”

  “Hmm. Good point. I can try and look through the window, see if I see anything,” Sams said. “Otherwise, we would be taking our chances.”

  “Let’s go to the back then,” Foster answered. “Less likely that anybody sees us going into the house.”

  “Good point.”

  The two men worked their way to the back of the house and then stopped next to an eight-foot privacy fence that contained the property’s backyard.

  “Larry’s brother really likes fences,” Sams quipped. “I thought they could only be six feet high, though.”

  “Depends on the township,” Foster said. “I’m guessing he got some type of exemption to make his taller. Someone that worried about their privacy might have rigged their fence gate to stop possible intruders while they were gone.”

  “Yeah, hold on,” Sams said. He pulled out a fiber optic camera and slid it under the fence, angling it and looking.

  “Nice toy,” Foster quipped. “I didn’t realize you had it.”

  “Yeah, something I found when I was out scavenging,” Sams said. “Didn’t see an immediate need for it, so I put it in my backpack. I figured it was better to have and not need it than the other way around.”

  “Good point.”

  “Can’t get the right angle. Dammit,” Sams muttered. He carefully retracted the cable and gathered it back up. “I wanna see what’s on the other side of the fence. Give me a boost, will you?”

  “Up and over?”

  “Up for now. Wanna see if I missed anything with the camera, like a sleeping dog.”

  “Good point,” Foster said. “On three?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Foster bent down and cupped his two hands together, forming a bridge. Sams lifted his right foot up, put it in Foster’s hands, grabbed the top of the fence, and pushed up. Foster lifted him higher so that Sams could see clearly above the fence.

  “Looks clear,” Sams said, stepping back down.

  “You might wanna take a step back, just in case,” Foster said as he moved to the side of the fence door. He held his rifle in a low-ready position and waited for Sams to open the door. He watched as Sams took a nervous breath, exhaled, grabbed the handle, and opened the fence’s door slowly. The gate swung silently open, and the former Ranger stepped into the yard, bringing his weapon up into play.

  Foster followed behind, doing a circle sweep to cover the left half of the yard, with Sams covering the right. He reached back, closing the fence door behind them.

  “Glass doors,” Sams said. “If they’re like my folks, they never lock them.”

  “Really?” Foster said. “Why the hell not?”

  “They got a privacy fence and three Rottweilers,” Sams said. “If you’re dumb enough to hop over the fence, you got the Rotties to deal with. But if they accidentally lock themselves out, then it’s just a matter of going through their own privacy fence and sliding the door open to get back in the house.”

  “Makes sense,” Foster said. “Let’s keep moving. The rest of the group is waiting to hear from us.”

  Sams examined the sliding glass door, looking through the glass from several angles. “No visible traps,” he said. He grabbed the door handle, testing it with a gentle tug. He adjusted his feet, ready to jump back at the first sign of trouble. Sams grabbed the handle and yanked it. The door slid quietly open. Sams stepped into the house, bringing his rifle up into a shooting position.

  Foster followed him, closing the sliding door behind them. “All right, let’s clear this place, then check out the garage,” he said. “Just to warn you, last house I went in with Gregory, the garage door was booby-trapped.”

  “Good to know.” Sams said. He brought the fiber optic camera out of his backpack once more. “Let me check before we try and proceed.”

  Ten minutes later, they had cleared the house from top to bottom and were standing on the side of the detached garage. Sams slid a telescoping mirror under the door and examined the door frame thoroughly. “No wires, no booby traps that I can see.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I can be. If it makes you feel better, you can move over there to avoid getting blown up.”

  “That’s not funny,” Foster scolded. “I already told you, the last place we checked was booby-trapped.”

  “Yeah, I remember. I also told you, I think we’re clear.”

  “Where do you want me?”

  “Over there,” Sams said. He pointed to a position approximately forty-five degrees from the doorway. “Cover me while I open the door.”

  The two men moved into position. Sams grabbed the door handle and gave it a quick yank. The door swung open harmlessly, revealing a well-kept two-car garage. A white Suburban sat quietly in one of the bays.

  “Is it possible we found the only house in Rehoboth that doesn’t have dead bodies, Reapers, or booby traps?” Sams said aloud. “Maybe our luck is finally improving.”

  “Don’t jinx us,” Foster said. “Come on, let’s clear the garage. If it’s like the rest of the house and checks out fine, then we need to call the others. Because right now, it’s looking like we have a new secure location.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sergeant Black knocked on the closed door in front of him. He waited patiently until the voice behind the door told him it was okay to enter. As he opened the door, he saw Lieutenant Tom Abrahams sitting behind a desk. There was a large stack of papers on his left side and an equally large pile on the right.

  “You got a minute?” Black asked.

  “If it gives me an excuse to avoid all of this paperwork, I’ve got as many of them as you need,” Abrahams said with a smile. “You would think in the middle of a shit storm where enemy combatants are busy killing humans that I’d have more important things to deal with.”

  “I’m guessing that’s not the case?”

  Abrahams laughed bitterly. “I’m afraid not. I’m used to being on the front lines with my men. But with all this shit going on, I’m riding a desk and leading this base. At least, until someone higher up shows up to relieve me. But you didn’t come here to listen to me complain. What’s on your mind, Sergeant Black?”

  “Just spoke with Officer Foster in the mainland. They’ve run into a few snags.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, for starters, the boat they were going to use was booby-trapped. It killed two of their party. The rest barely managed to escape.”

  “Shit. Was Foster one of them?”

  “No. Fortunately, he and some of his other key personnel are fine. The problem is the marina is controlled by the Disciples of the Divine, a cult in that area.”

  “A cult?”

  “Apparently, this cult has some kind of control over the Reapers in that area.”

  “Wait, what? There’s a way to control the Reapers?”

  “Between you and me, I think it’s a load of horse shit,” Black answered. “But a lot of people in that area seem to buy into it. Damned if any of us know why. Anyways, Foster says these Disciples control the marina with the help of the Reapers.”

  “Can’t they just commandeer another boat?”

  “Yeah, I asked him that. The problem is, it’s the same marina their boat was located in. If their boat was booby-trapped, there’s a good chance other ones in the same area are, too. They don’t have any way to safely determine that while avoiding Reaper and Guardian patrols.”

  “Guardians?”

  “Right. That’s the armed enforcers for the cult.”

  “I can see where that would create a problem. I’m guessing they’re trying to avoid a firefight?”

  “Right,” Black answered. “Foster’s group is extremely outnumbered right now. And unfortunately for them, the group members killed were the only ones who knew how to navigate a boat.”
>
  “So what do they plan to do?” Abrahams demanded. “We’re on an island. They can’t exactly walk here.”

  “Foster said he’s working on it. He might have a way to get his group out of Rehoboth and away from this cult. If he can find a suitable place for an exfil, then he was wondering if you’d send a helicopter to pick them up.”

  “How many people in his group?”

  “Nine, including Foster,” Black said. “I explained to him that you only have one working helicopter right now, and it was currently out on a mission.”

  “I don’t know if we can send it.”

  “What are you talking about? He’s got intel that you need.”

  “No, he’s telling me he has intel,” Abrahams corrected. “It’s unverified.”

  “You gotta be kidding me.”

  “No, I’m not. Do you really want me to risk our only way to get anybody on or off of this island on an unverified hunch?”

  “It’s not a hunch. Foster has the proof to support his findings,” Black said. “Are you telling me we don’t have any boats on this island?”

  “That’s correct. All of us were brought in by the helicopter. It was one of the reasons why I agreed to take Foster’s group in.”

  “They were bringing a boat,” Black said. “It would have given you another way to run missions.”

  “That’s right. Especially any kind of scavenging or salvage ones.”

  “Couldn’t we just grab some nearby boats?”

  “It’s possible,” Abrahams said. “But we’d have to improvise a bit.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “Unless someone on your team is secretly a skipper, we currently lack any experienced boat hands.”

  “I’m guessing we’re going to have to figure it out sooner or later.”

  “Of course,” Abrahams said. “We need more supplies and food. Especially food.”

  “What about fishing?”

  “Do you really think we're gonna be able to catch enough fish with homemade fishing poles to feed everybody on this island every day?”

  “To be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought,” Black admitted. “I’ve been busy with other things.”

  “Well, feel free to take a look around. There’s no crops or greenhouse in place,” Abrahams said. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re in the wrong time of the year to start planting a garden. Which really ties my hands to make sure we keep everybody here properly fed. It’s only a matter of time before we run out of what supplies are already here.”

  “In other words, as soon as Foster lost the boat and people who knew how to take care of it, he lost his usefulness.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “What are you saying, Lieutenant? That Foster is on his own?”

  “I don’t know,” Abrahams said, throwing his hands up in the air. “I hope not. Look, I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m serious. Let me make some calls. Maybe there’s another military division that can do an exfil. You say he’s in Delaware?”

  “Yeah, Rehoboth.”

  “If he can get to somewhere away from this cult, it’ll make it easier to arrange for a pickup.”

  “Understood.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, not at this time.”

  “Then if you don’t mind seeing yourself out, I need to get back to tackling this paperwork.”

  “Right.” Black turned and started to walk away.

  “Sergeant.”

  Black paused in the doorway.

  “Yeah?”

  “This guy Foster,” Abrahams asked. “How well do you know him?”

  “Pretty well. Why?”

  “Can we count on him?”

  “When my team got cornered coming out of the Philadelphia airport, Foster led a group of his people into the fight to help us out,” Black answered. “He’s a cop. When the shit starts hitting the fan, he doesn’t run away. He runs toward the trouble and does whatever he can to help. If Foster says he’s got information that’s a game changer, then I’m willing to bet that’s exactly what he’s got.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. I appreciate your honest opinion. I’ll let you know as soon as I have any news to give.”

  “Uh-huh. Okay.”

  “Hey, Black.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I meant what I said. I’ll do what I can. I hate the idea of leaving any of the good guys or gals in a bind. Especially with the Reapers. I wish I had more than one copter to send out, but I don’t right now. Let me see what I can do on my end to make it happen, okay?”

  “You got it, LT,” Black said. “Thanks.”

  Chapter Thirty

  There was a loud banging on the door, and Gregory looked at Charles with a look of panic in his eyes.

  “We need to block the door,” Charles said. “Grab as much stuff as you can.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?”

  “Then pray they go away,” Charles said. “Come on and help me.”

  The two men sprang into action and grabbed a desk stationed halfway between the door and window. The duo worked in tandem to shove the bulky furniture in front of the door.

  “Chairs,” Charles said between breaths. “Stack them on the desk.”

  “What about the window?” Gregory asked.

  “Bookcase,” Charles pointed. The faux wood furniture was filled with a mix of pamphlets and different stacks of paper. The two shoved the bookcase in front of the window, darkening the room considerably.

  “There,” Charles whispered as he pointed to where he wanted Gregory to move. “Behind the chair.” He took position behind a matching one catty-corner to his son.

  The tension in the room was almost unbearable. The looming threat suddenly became very real in Charles’ mind. There was a very real chance he and his son could be slaughtered by the Reapers in this enclosed space and nobody else would be able to help them. Charles felt a wave of panic rush over him, and his body began shaking uncontrollably. He forced himself to take several calming breaths and locked his eyes on the barricaded door.

  There was a loud bang, and the door rocked within its frame. Two more thuds sounded, and the door suddenly flew open. Two Reapers appeared in the doorway. One of the creatures roared and slammed its hairy fist against its chest before taking a step into the room. The Reaper immediately stumbled over the top of the stacked chairs and landed hard on the floor. As it began to rise, the second monster tripped over the same chairs and landed on its ally’s back, knocking both of them onto the floor together.

  Charles heard Gregory fire twice and saw one of the Reapers take a direct head shot. There was a third shot, and the former preacher saw the shot strike the remaining monster in the arm. The creature yelped in pain. It snarled and turned its attention toward the trapped men. It let out an angry roar and began to advance on Charles’ position.

  There was an even louder crash. Charles stole a look toward the noise and saw the desk splinter as five more Reapers charged through it.

  Charles brought his shotgun up into a shooting position and opened fire. He saw the closest Reaper go down for good. He shifted his aim on the next creature and fired once again.

  “Dad, behind you!” Gregory shouted.

  Charles turned and looked just in time to see the bookcase toppling over. A moment later, two new Reapers crashed through the window and landed in a heap inside the room.

  Charles aimed at the closest one and fired. As he turned toward the second one, he saw a blurred motion swing upward. There was a tremendous blow as a Reaper’s hand struck his weapon and knocked the shotgun out of his hands. The monster moved with inhuman speed and struck him again. The blow to his chest sent Charles reeling, and he landed hard on his back. As he struggled to sit up, he froze in terror. The monster was holding Gregory by the neck in front of him. The shotgun lay harmlessly on the ground behind them.

  Charles scrambled to pull the gun in his ho
lster and aimed it shakily at the monster. He noticed for the first time that the Reaper was wearing a red cape.

  “Drop the gun, or I will kill him,” the monster announced. “Now.”

  “If I do,” Charles answered, “you’ll kill us both.”

  “Do you really want to take the chance?”

  “Please, there’s no need for violence,” Charles said in as soothing of a voice as he could muster. “We’ll leave peacefully.”

  A low rumble came out of the monster’s chest. “Peace, you say. Such a quaint old idea. You know Foster.”

  “W-What?”

  “Don’t deny it,” the Reaper continued. “We've seen you with him. Bring Foster here, and I will release this man.”

  “How do I know you won’t harm him as soon as I leave the room?”

  “I give you my word, human,” the red-caped creature said. “Tell Foster I wish to meet under the terms of a cease fire.”

  “What?” Charles said. “I-I don’t understand.”

  “Tell him to come alone.”

  “Dad,” Gregory said between clenched teeth. “I-I’ll be okay.”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Charles said. “If you hurt him, so help me, I’ll—”

  “You’ll do nothing, old man, and you know it,” The Reaper chuckled. “Go on, before I change my mind and kill both of you.”

  Charles ran from the room. Before he knew it, he had reached their vehicle. He tried to unlock the door and immediately dropped the keys. Charles bent down and picked them back up. He put his finger on the fob instinctively and immediately froze. The Reaper had told him to go get Foster. But what if there were others in the area who hadn’t gotten that message? Or Guardians. They’d already tried to kill all of them once. If he alerted them and was killed before he could reach Foster, then his son might die at the hands of the red-caped monster.

  Charles slowly removed his thumb from the fob and shifted his aim. He attempted to insert the key into the driver’s side lock and missed badly. The former preacher glanced at his hand and saw it was shaking uncontrollably. Charles brought his left hand up and grasped the key with both hands. This time, he succeeded in getting the key in the door. He carefully turned it and was rewarded with the sound of the door unlocking. Charles climbed into the SUV and pulled the door closed behind him. He grabbed the walkie-talkie he had left under the driver’s seat and keyed the transmit button.