The Wretched Series | Book 4 | Wretched Aftermath

by Michaels, E. G.

  “Completely,” Foster answered. “I saw Nick look at the dashboard gauges when we turned off the road. It would be better if it was a couple miles of distance from the turnoff. But nearly a mile is still respectable.”

  “I’m not following,” Lizzy said. “Why does the distance matter?”

  “Noise,” Walker answered. “The farther away from a main road, the less likely any Reapers passing by might see or hear us.” He turned the ignition off, and the engine immediately cut out. Walker removed the key and tucked it behind the driver’s side visor before opening the door.

  Foster followed his friend’s lead and climbed out of the passenger side of the SUV. He carefully stood and stretched, working out a few of the physical kinks he’d gained while they were stuck in the vehicle. He saw Sams and the rest of them disembark from their SUV and work their way toward him.

  “Interesting looking place,” Sams said as he approached. “Your idea?”

  “Lizzy’s,” Foster volunteered. “She used to visit this place as a kid.”

  “Nice,” Sams answered. “This might work well to bring in a helicopter.”

  “Let’s clear this place first,” Walker said. “Then we’ll worry about landing our next ride.”

  “Head that way,” Lizzy pointed. “It’s the Museum’s Hall of Fame. They have a souvenir shop there.”

  “Good idea,” Sams said. “We’ll probably find some beverages and food that we can grab and take with us to Hope Island.”

  “Or we can work from there to clear the area,” Walker countered. “The sooner we know the place is clear, the quicker we can call for our ride.”

  “Let’s get it done, then,” Sams said. “I’m ready to blow this pop stand.”

  They caught a major break when they discovered that most of the buildings were locked up tight. A quick discussion with the group was had on whether they should break into each building and do a complete top-to-bottom search. A consensus was quickly reached. They only needed to ensure the area was secure enough for the Hope Island copter to land and then take off again. If there were Reapers sleeping in one of the other locked-up buildings, then they’d worry about dealing with them if they figured out how to break out of the building and made an uninvited appearance.

  As a result of their decision, it had only taken them a few minutes to clear the immediate area. The group then divided into smaller teams and set up overwatch positions at the primary entranceways of the Hall of Fame building. In the interest of keeping potential noise to a minimum, Foster moved into the souvenir shop to make one last call. The store was located deep in the larger building. Just as important, it was positioned where there was no chance of anyone outside of the room hearing him talking.

  The sat phone had already rung four times before he heard someone answer the call.

  “Your timing sucks,” Black grumbled.

  “In the bathroom?” Foster asked.

  “Doesn’t matter where I was,” Black answered. “Your timing is still lousy.”

  “This was the first chance I had to call you with an update.”

  “Uh-huh. Where are you now?”

  “A place called Air Mobility Command Museum,” Foster said. “We’ve done a sweep, and the place is secure.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. The museum is a few miles from Dover Air Force. The place is surrounded by metal fencing. There’s barbed wire on the top of it to keep anyone from climbing over.”

  “Anyone or anything,” Black said. “All right, it took some serious arm wrenching, but I got Abrahams on board. He’ll send the chopper to your location for a fast extraction. But it’s a one-shot deal. If your group isn’t ready or the extraction zone is overrun with Reapers, then the deal is off.”

  “We’re ready. The area is secure right now. We’ve set up lookouts to spot any potential hostiles.”

  “Excellent. I’ll see you in about thirty minutes.”

  “Wait, what? You’re coming for the extraction?”

  “Uh-huh. Lead from the front, Malcolm,” Black said. “Lost half of my boys on a recent mission. Gimble has a broken arm, and Keane is pretty banged up.”

  “But you’re in charge of your SWAT unit. Couldn’t you send Spagonelli?”

  “Abrahams would have a complete shit fit if I did. He’s on security detail here. The Rangers might not want to admit it, but Spags might be the best sniper on the island. So I’m the logical choice for a last-minute Uber service.”

  “Makes sense,” Foster said. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

  “Uh-huh,” Black answered. “Stay frosty until then.”

  Foster disconnected the call and began to carefully put the sat phone away. He heard a series of hurried footsteps coming his way and instinctively reached for his rifle.

  “Malcolm?” a voice called out.

  Foster dropped his hands from his weapon. “I’m in here, Lizzy,” he answered. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. He fought to bring his emotions back under control. The rush of footsteps had almost triggered him into opening fire at whatever might have appeared in the doorway.

  Lizzy hustled into the room with Sams and Charles in tow.

  “Our ride is on its way,” Foster said simply. “Should be here within the next thirty minutes.”

  “That might be a problem,” Sams answered. “We have incoming. We’re not sure they’ve spotted us yet.”

  “So if we lay low, they might pass us by?” Foster asked.

  “Maybe,” Sams answered. “If the Reapers get too close for comfort, Gregory, Walker, and Amanda are set up to repel.”

  “Call Black back,” Lizzy said. “Tell him we need more time.”

  “Not an option,” Foster said. “The Army told him it’s a one-shot deal. If they can’t land safely, then they’re not coming back for us.”

  “Fuck a duck,” Sams muttered. He reached for the wireless comms and activated them. “Nick, come in.”

  Walker answered immediately. “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “Ride is en route,” Sams said. “ETA is thirty mikes. They’re making one pass. If we’re not ready, then they’re leaving without us.”

  “Understood. Hostiles aren’t within range of our location yet.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Wandering around.”

  “Any chance they could be led away?” Sams asked.

  “Derrick,” Foster warned. “If you’re thinking of doing something reckless—”

  “Not reckless,” Sams answered. “Just a little Pied Piper action. If I can get them to chase one of our vehicles, I can lead them away from the airfield. I just need to be back in time to catch our ride.”

  “Affirmative on the distraction,” Walker answered. “But it needs to be pretty noticeable to get their attention.”

  “I’m on it,” Sams said. “If there’s one thing I’m great at, it’s getting attention.” He turned towards Foster and said, “Keep your comms on. If I can’t get back here in time, I’ll call you.”

  “Be careful,” Foster warned.

  “Careful is my middle name,” Sams said. He flashed a quick, boyish grin before darting out the door. A moment later, Foster heard his footsteps echoing away.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Derrick Sams ran like more than his own life was on the line. If he couldn’t lead the Reapers away in time, then the rest of his group might not live long enough to catch their ride to Hope Island.

  He came to a halt at the entranceway doors and opened them. A quick scan from left to right confirmed there wasn’t anything waiting to eat his face. He stepped out in the open. As he did, he heard the sound of several vehicles entering the parking lot and rushed to duck behind cover. Sams peeked out and saw a Hummer screech to a halt. Several men disembarked immediately, and Sams felt his heart drop. Each one was wearing a very distinctive armband.

  “Houston, we have a problem,” Sams whispered into the comms. He brought his rifle up and shifted into a secure shoot
ing position. “The Guardians just showed up to crash the party. I can’t get to our vehicles.”

  The Hummer pulled to a screeching stop in front of the museum. Silas scanned the area in front of him left to right. As he did, his eyes fell on a pair of vehicles parked haphazardly.

  “Wait,” his driver said. “Aren't those the—”

  “Yes,” Silas interrupted. “Looks like old Artie was right. Foster and his thugs are here.”

  “Why the hell would he stop here? I don’t think—”

  “I didn’t ask you to think,” Silas said. “I asked you to follow orders.”

  “Sorry,” the driver stammered.

  “Tell the boys it’s hunting time,” Silas announced. “The first man that brings me Foster’s head gets an extra week of dinner rations.”

  A series of affirmatives sounded out.

  Silas climbed out of the Hummer, feeling more than seeing the rest of his men exit their vehicles and join him. This time, they had the advantage. They’d find whatever dark corner Foster was hiding in and drag his sorry butt out. He didn’t care what Ezekiel said. Silas wanted Foster dead, no matter what. He’d just concoct a story to explain why the ex-cop wasn’t brought back alive.

  “Hey, boss,” one of his men said. “We got Reapers.”

  “Make sure they can see your armband,” Silas ordered. He checked to make sure his own was visible. Satisfied that his identification was soundly in place, he motioned his men to go on ahead of him. Silas watched as two of them took the lead and slowed his pace until the rest of his men were in front of him.

  Silas cleared his throat and announced, “Hey. We need your help finding some humans.”

  Several of the Reapers turned toward the sound of his voice. One of them stood upright, let out an ear-shattering roar, and charged toward them.

  “Whoa, friendly here,” Silas shouted. He watched in horror as one of his men panicked, fumbling his rifle to bring it about. A split second later, the Reaper slammed into his man, driving him hard into the paved parking surface. The monster immediately latched onto the man’s exposed neck. There was a loud crunch and arterial spray as the man screamed for a moment before the sound was cut off.

  “Son of a bitch,” Silas swore. He brought his rifle about and fired once, striking the Reaper in the ear, dropping it in place.

  A series of growls sounded out around them, and the Reapers began moving as one toward the Guardians.

  “I thought they were with us?” one of his men shouted.

  “Not anymore!” Silas yelled back. “Kill every one of them freaks.”

  Achilles felt a jolt of pain. He quickly scanned his body and realized he wasn’t the one who had been hurt. He felt several other jabs of pain and instinctively realized the pain was coming from his own soldiers.

  Achilles mentally reached out and connected with his warriors who were being attacked. Finding one that was uninjured, he reached out and took control of the soldier’s eyes.

  There were a number of cars and trucks in front them. He forced his soldier to look around. Humans. And none of them looked familiar to him. He saw one of the humans bring up a metal rod and point it as his soldier. There were several flashes, and then his warrior’s body spasmed in pain.

  There was a noise near him, and Achilles broke the connection and looked toward the disruption. A different soldier had dared to approach without invitation, and Achilles readied himself for the unexpected attack.

  But the soldier didn’t attack. It stopped short of him and began to speak.

  “Sir, Fos-ter and his humans are near,” the warrior reported. “One of our scouts spotted them. They don’t believe Fos-ter has seen them. We can move more warriors closer before we begin our attack.”

  Two packs of humans. One of them had started hurting his soldiers. The other contained Fos-ter. But the dreaded pack mate killer wasn’t attacking. Why was he waiting? It didn’t make sense unless Achilles was overlooking something.

  A wave of sudden, uncontrollable fear rushed over him. He immediately reached out to Beeks.

  “Yes. What is it now?” Beeks snarled.

  “Master? We’re in trouble.”

  “What?”

  “I believe I have stumbled into a trap. We were following Fos-ter,” Achilles stammered. “There’s another group of humans here who started attacking us. Fos-ter is waiting for some reason to begin fighting. We’re in trouble.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Here,” Achilles answered. He sent out a feeling of where he was and his memories of the buildings around him. “I need help. Send whoever you have nearby. My soldiers and I are trapped between Foster and these other humans.”

  “You are not allowed to die,” Beeks ordered. “I will send help. I’m ordering you to stay alive.”

  “Y-Yes, Master. I shall do my best.”

  “See that you do,” Beeks snarled before cutting the mental transmission.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Haas had pushed the pace. He needed to catch up with Foster before the human managed to disappear for good. Haas had arranged for Foster and his group of humans to get out of town in the cover of darkness. But now it looked like the human might be trying to renege on his end of the deal. And that was unacceptable. Haas didn’t want to risk his own neck to eliminate Beeks for good. Not when he could force this human to do his dirty work for him.

  “Haas—”

  The sound of his master’s voice slamming into his head was totally unexpected, and Haas blurted out, “What the hell do you want now?”

  “Excuse me?” Beeks demanded. “I don’t believe you should speak to your leader with that tone of voice.”

  “Stop here,” Haas ordered. “Take a rest while I talk with our master.”

  He began to walk away from his soldiers to someplace where he could talk to his annoying boss without interruption. “I’m in the middle of something,” Haas mentally growled. “What do you need, oh mighty Master?”

  “It’s not what I need. It’s what Achilles needs.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “He's surrounded by two groups of humans. One of them includes Foster.”

  Haas felt a wave of images pop into his head. Buildings surrounded by old planes and helicopters. A long row of metal fencing as far as could be seen in a single moment.

  “All right. What do you want me to do?”

  “Go help him,” Beeks snarled. “Do I have to spell everything out for you, too?”

  “I don’t want to assume I know my master’s biddings,” Haas said. A low growl sounded in his head, and Haas was silently pleased his answer had gotten under Beeks’ skin. “All right. I’m not far away. I’ll bring the troops I have with me. But it won’t be a lot.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “A number of them are on patrol on the other side of town. I brought a few fighters with me to check on a tip,” Haas lied. “I can go now to help Achilles. Unless you want me to delay my departure until the rest of my warriors reach my current location?”

  “No, I don’t want you to drag your feet. Achilles is under attack. He needs your help right now.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Stop stalling,” Beeks ordered. “Take what soldiers you have with you and go help Achilles.”

  A moment later, Haas felt the connection break, and then Beeks was gone. He walked back to where he had left his warriors. Haas looked around. He had maybe three dozen soldiers with him. Each one seemed poised and calm, which pleased him. He was proud of his fighters. He hoped they would be enough for what Beeks was asking him to do next.

  “Come with me,” Haas ordered. “We have a rescue mission to achieve.” He wasn’t sure what they could be running into. The location that had popped in his head seemed far enough away that Achilles could be dead by the time he got there. It would certainly make things easier for Haas. It would be one less fellow Alpha to kill when Haas was ready to make his move against Beeks. But maybe these other humans would s
till be there. And if they were, then maybe Foster would need his help after all. Because the human couldn’t eliminate Beeks if he got himself killed first.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  “The Guardians just showed up to crash the party.”

  As soon as he heard those words, Foster skidded to a halt.

  “Derrick,” Foster answered. “How many?”

  “Two vehicles,” Sams said. “Ten Guardians.”

  “Can you fall back to the exfil location?”

  “Not likely. They’ll probably see me move from my current position. Oh, shit.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Reapers just showed up. They’re attacking the Guardians.”

  “Hang tight,” Foster said. “I’m on my way.”

  “Malcolm!” Charles yelled. “What do you want us to do?”

  Foster glanced at the ex-priest and then Lizzy. Both looked like they were scared, but ready to jump in if asked.

  “Help Nick, Gregory, and Amanda,” Foster said. “We need the landing area for the helicopter kept secure or none of us are getting out of here.”

  “I’m not sure how much I can help,” Charles said. He gestured with the Benelli shotgun. “I’m almost out of ammunition.”

  Foster squatted down and retrieved the weapon from his ankle holster. He offered the “Baby Glock” to Charles. “Glock 26. There’s ten bullets in the magazine. Uses 9mm ammo like everyone else’s handguns,” he said. “Tell Walker you’re really low on ammo. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Thank you, Malcolm,” Charles said. “Go help Derrick, before it’s too late.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be back soon,” Foster promised. He took off in a full run toward the entranceway.

  Walker glanced through his rifle’s scope at the approaching Reaper herd. He started to do a head count and quickly gave up. It was too many for them to engage. He glanced to his left and saw Gregory fidgeting behind a pair of empty metal barrels. A quick look to his right showed Amanda was situated behind a tire of a Polaris MV800. He had been surprised to see the All-Terrain Vehicle here, but it would serve as a makeshift cover for his wife’s best friend. He’d reminded both of them on how important it was to stay quiet. Fortunately, he didn’t have to worry about the kids forgetting and making a bunch of noise. They were just inside the building behind him. As long as nothing snuck up behind them inside, they should be safe and secure. And if something did attack them, then being quiet probably wouldn’t matter. Because the odds were, they would be seconds away from dying in an overwhelming avalanche of hostile Reapers.