Wipeout | Book 5 | Foul Play

by Richards, E. S.

  FOUL

  PLAY

  Wipeout Series

  Book 5

  By

  E.S. Richards

  Mike Kraus

  © 2020 Muonic Press Inc

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

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  Special Thanks

  Special thanks to my awesome beta team, without whom this book wouldn’t be nearly as great.

  Thank you!

  Wipeout Book 6

  Available Here!

  Chapter 1

  “The eye will always guide you.”

  The words echoed in his head as Walter Davies stood in front of the marked door, waiting for something to happen. He half expected it to swing open and reveal a crowded room of people, out of sight in the busy city and operating without anyone’s knowledge. But nothing happened. Confused, Walter knocked again and waited a little longer, certain that something was going to happen. He remembered Henry Packham’s words and glanced upwards at the flaming eye painted above the door – it was exactly the same symbol – there was no way he had mistaken it.

  But despite how convinced Walter was that he was in the right place, the door didn’t open to him and no one appeared to welcome him inside. He was about ready to give up and walk away when something snapped in his head and he scoffed at himself. Why was he waiting for someone to let him inside? Whatever it was that he was looking for, it was deliberately hard to find; he couldn’t expect a welcoming party to be put on for him, he needed to go and find whatever it was for himself. Placing a hand on the door handle, Walter twisted it and heard a click. Finally, the door swung open and Walter was able to step inside.

  What he walked into was a long, dark corridor. With the door closed, Walter could only see a few feet ahead of him, unfastening his flashlight from his belt and clicking it on to guide the way. The corridor looked like it had been built many, many years ago. Wooden beams held up the ceiling in places, with bits of rock juxtapositioned against the gray slate. There wasn’t a great deal of room for a man of his height and so as Walter followed the passageway he was forced to hunch over, his hair often brushing the ceiling as he rounded the narrow bends.

  Throughout his career, Walter had put his life on the line more times than he could count. It had always been his duty to protect the citizens of New York and he had always been willing to do whatever it took to accomplish that. While he still carried his badge in his pocket, for the first time since his early twenties Walter knew that he wasn’t acting on behalf of the police and it gave him a completely different rush of feelings as he worked. His excitement to find out what lay at the end of the dark passage dwarfed his anticipation about it and kept his fears at bay long enough for him to keep moving. Walter knew that if he stopped for too long, he’d be forced to face what he had done in leaving the precinct behind and that wasn’t something he was ready to do. For now, he had to do what the voice in his head was telling him to do and allow the eye to guide him.

  As he stumbled through the dark passage, Walter began to hear the sound of people moving around above his head. Wherever the tunnel was taking him, it was weaving its way underneath people’s homes and businesses, cutting a course across the city that to the vast majority of people was unknown. How many families had eaten dinner above the passage, never once knowing what was happening beneath their feet? It was a strange thought and as the sounds increased, Walter found himself getting increasingly anxious to reach the end.

  When a door finally did appear in front of him, much like before Walter paused and considered what he should do next. Sounds of muffled conversation and activity carried through from the other side of the wooden door, the oak structure obstructing his view of the other side. Try as he might, Walter couldn’t make out any of the conversation taking place on the other side. All he could tell was that people were in there, what he did with that information was entirely up to him.

  As a police officer he had been trained to think through every risk he was presented with. Walter had no idea what type of people lay in wait for him on the other side of the door, nor how they would react to his arrival. He was scared that entering would be a mistake, but his curiosity kept him from turning back. He had come this far after all, what had been the point in that if he wasn’t going to complete the journey? And so, with a deep breath, Walter once again opened the door into the unknown.

  Or at least, he tried to. Turning the door handle, Walter was surprised to find the door locked. After the long passage he had just walked down, the last thing he had expected was the final destination to be closed off. Places like this were always hard to find, but he had done the hard bit – Walter had wholly been expecting to be able to just walk the next part.

  “Password.”

  A gruff voice bellowed from the other side, making Walter jump as he stood in place, staring at the locked door. His estimations about what he was walking into changed a hundred times every minute, his brain working overtime to try and think of a response to the demand.

  “Password.”

  The voice came again a little louder and Walter’s mouth opened to answer then closed again, leaving him looking a little like a fish as he willed some words to come to his mind. He remembered what Henry Packham had said about the eye and tried to connect some sort of password to that, but his mind was drawing a blank. Looking back down the tunnel, Walter wondered whether he should maybe just give up and make a run for it. Would he have time to get back to the main street before anyone caught up with him? Was that his safest option?

  “Hey,” the male voice behind the door spoke up again, this time with a note of confusion and skepticism in its tone. “Who’s out there? What’s going on?”

  “What is it?”

  “Someone rattled the door handle, but it’s all gone quiet now.”

  “Strange – you sure someone’s there?”

  “Positive boss, or at least they were.”

  Walter stood frozen in place as he listened to the exchange on the other side of the door, fear creeping into his psyche as the sound of keys jangling carried through the oak and he realized the door was about to
be opened, password or not.

  Had Walter been in uniform, with his police-issued weapon drawn and a plan of attack in his head, he would not be feeling half of the emotions coursing through his body as he listened to a key being inserted into the lock. He was acting entirely out of character for a man of his position, but he wasn’t the same man anymore and subconsciously, Walter was very aware of it. He was out on his own and no badge or gun could protect him now. Suddenly, Walter felt very small in the underground passage and he wondered whether he had made a grave mistake.

  The moment of fear and desperation was so overpowering that as the door swung open in front of him and revealed two large men standing there, Walter didn’t do anything. He didn’t run, he didn’t try to escape or explain himself, he just stood there and stared at the two men.

  “Who are you?”

  Walter opened his mouth to speak and in that split second, the whole world seemed to wash over him. He recalled the career he’d had and everything being in the police had meant to him, but he also recalled the moment Trident had collapsed and how everything had changed since then. He saw the fires burning across New York City in his memory and he thought of the thousands of people who had died in those first few days, and the hundreds of thousands who were still suffering. He remembered the children he had found on the brink of starvation and the promise he had made to himself to help them; to make a real difference. That wasn’t possible in the life he used to lead and yet Walter knew it was his duty to do something about it. If that meant stepping away from the path he had always been devoted to, then that was something he had to do. Everything else may be lost, but he still had his humanity.

  “I’m Walter Davies,” he announced just in time, the men in front of him growing more uneasy and suspicious the longer the silence was drawn out. “I’m looking for Henry Packham; he told me to come here.”

  One of the men narrowed his eyes and looked Walter up and down, taking in the new arrival carefully. If this was some sort of secret, underground labyrinth of people, then they couldn’t just welcome anyone inside with open arms. But then at the same time, if their goal was to help save the city and the people within it, they couldn’t just turn people away.

  “What did he tell you exactly?”

  Walter swallowed, observing how neither man had budged, their large bodies still blocking his view of whatever lay beyond the doorframe. “He told me to follow the eye,” Walter explained, “he said that the eye would always guide me.”

  “And what do you need guidance for? Why have you come here?”

  “To help,” Walter replied, the answer coming from his mouth before he had even processed the words in his head. It was a truer sentiment than one he had ever felt; he wanted to help, no matter how that was portrayed. “I’ve watched things get worse across this city for too long now,” Walter continued, “I can’t do it any longer. It’s not fair. There’s only one way that we’re going to get through this and that’s by working together. That’s why I’m here, I want to do my part.”

  The two men remained silent, mulling over Walter’s reply and deciding what to do with him next. The seconds dragged by and Walter wondered whether he had said the wrong thing, retracing his words in his head to try and figure out where he had stumbled until finally, the men stepped aside and he was granted access to the room on the other side.

  During the interaction between the three of them, the room had entirely cleared out. Before he tried the door, Walter had stood and listened and he was convinced the room had held close to twenty people. Now it was entirely bare, no furniture or people to fill the space that was lit by several torches burning on the four walls. He hadn’t noticed them go, but Walter knew the people who had been here must have scattered, meaning his initiation into this bizarre underground network wasn’t over yet.

  With his heart pounding in his chest, Walter turned and looked back at the two men, one of which was locking the door behind them again. Now the three of them were shut in together and while Walter felt considerably more confident than he had been out in the passageway, he was still unnerved by their silence and the uncertainty of what was going to happen to him.

  “What is this place?” Walter asked, unable to keep the question from falling from his mouth, both men looking at him as he asked but neither offering a response. One of them – the slightly taller of the two – crossed the room and exited through one of two doors, leaving only Walter and his counterpart behind.

  “You can sit if you want,” the gruff man announced, nodding to one side of the room. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  While the room was empty of furniture, Walter noticed that a bench was carved out of the walls that surrounded them. He walked over to it and sat down on the cold, hard stone, leaning back on the wall and staring at the man in front of him. “Where am I?” He asked, trying a different approach to try and get the man to strike up a conversation, but all he received was a wry smile and a shake of the head. Resigned to his uncertain fate, Walter let his head loll backwards against the wall and waited, his eyes darting between the man who stood in the center of the room and the two doors he was yet to travel through.

  “Mr. Packham!”

  Leaping to his feet as a door opened again several minutes later, Walter immediately recognized the man who came striding through and rushed toward him. Henry Packham was flanked by the same tall man from earlier, his huge frame dwarfing the man and making him look smaller than Walter remembered.

  “Walter, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, yes,” Walter smiled and nodded in response. “We met at the market several days ago.”

  “Yes, I remember,” Henry Packham replied. “I have to admit though, I doubted whether I would see you again. Something tells me this visit isn’t simply about ammunition this time?”

  “You’re right,” Walter replied. “I’m here because,” he paused, perturbed by the large men that stood just behind Henry Packham and also a little unsure about what to say. He felt like he was committed to this new movement, but he found himself wondering what would happen if he revealed that he was a police officer – or at least that he used to be.

  Henry Packham turned to look over his shoulder and gave the slightest flick of his head, indicating for the two men to leave. Once they were gone – and even though Walter was positive they stood mere inches behind the two doors – he felt a weight lift from his shoulders and inhaled a deep breath that restored his confidence. He was a man of honor and he shouldn’t be ashamed of his past or the path he was choosing for his future. He had always done what he believed was right and that was not going to change now. Opening his mouth to speak, Walter began to tell his story.

  Chapter 2

  Tears streamed down his face as Samuel stood in his parents’ back garden and stared down at the lump of dirt at his feet where his mother was buried. He was only a few feet from the house where his father waited, the old man unable to bring himself outside any longer. Samuel didn’t blame him; it can’t have been easy. His father hadn’t yet explained what had happened, but Samuel knew no matter how it happened, it would have been impossible for his father to say goodbye.

  Growing up, Samuel had always known his parents would die eventually. For a child, it’s something you just gradually come to terms with. You expect your parents will grow old and pass on when their time comes, it’s expected, something you can prepare for, but still never a welcome moment.

  Through gritted teeth, Samuel tried to remember the happy memories he had shared with his mother, but instead he could only picture the last time he saw her alive. It hadn’t been a bad goodbye; it just hadn’t been the way he wanted things to end. All throughout his journey with Austin, Samuel had kept his parents in the back of his head and never once even entertained the thought that they might not both still be waiting for him when he returned to the city. He couldn’t help but wonder if things would be different had he stayed behind, maybe he would’ve been able to save his mother, maybe things would
be different.

  But it was no use thinking like that. If he hadn’t left, maybe his family would still be together, but there was every chance it would then mean Austin’s family never got to reunite. Samuel had learnt many things during the short time since Trident’s collapse, but the most important lesson of all was that he couldn’t live his life in the past. His mother was dead now and he would grieve her death for the rest of his life, but Samuel needed to be strong for his father and show the old man that they weren’t giving up yet. One way or another, the two of them would see out this disaster and make it through to the other side.

  “Are you hungry, dad?” Samuel asked as he joined his father inside again, shutting the kitchen door to the outside and silencing the wind that whistled through the air, circling his mother’s grave. Thankfully she was buried just far enough away so that they couldn’t directly see the mound of dirt from the kitchen window, but both Samuel and Charles knew it was out there and neither could quite bring themselves to look in that direction. There was evidence of the burial scattered all over the garden, flecks of dirt on the once green grass, the shovel still not put back in the shed. It was impossible to look out there without thinking of her, even if her specific resting place was just out of sight.

  “I’m not sure you’ll find very much to eat,” Charles replied. “I’m down to the final crumbs.”

  “I’ve got some supplies with me,” Samuel replied with a kind smile as he made his way over to his backpack. His father looked weaker than he’d ever seen the man, his cheeks gaunt and his clothes hanging off his body like they had been bought a size too big. For all the money and luxuries his parents had, they had never been a couple to have a full pantry and Samuel feared that had left his parents in danger. Charles didn’t look like he was starving, but the old man certainly didn’t look far off either.