Monsters
Matthew Wolfe
Kraken Literary
Copyright © 2021 Matthew Wolfe
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456
Cover design by: Justin Mendez
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
To my Parents,
Who helped light fire of me becoming the writer I am today.
To Mako,
Thanks for always being honest.
CHAPTER ONE
Just Leave me Alone
March 2049
Malcolm Daniels spent very few of his nights in his home sober, he walked up to the Liquor cabinet and pulled a bottle of Scotch out of it.The bottle emptied into the glass as he pulled a small amount of ice out of the refrigerator.
Guess I will have to buy some more tomorrow. Mal said as he took a long sip from the glass.
Ever since the country split in half eight years ago, the economy has pretty much been based on whatever you can find or make. There are some manufacturing jobs in the larger towns but for Mal, he was in Southern Indiana, he was mostly just living off of his land and whatever his local grocery store had.
The TV popped to life as Mal slipped down into the chair, someone speaking from a desk. The nightly news of the evening.
“This week on the Blue Alliance of Northern States news, we are dealing with disappearances of multiple guards on the border between Mount Vernon, Indiana to Cincinnati, Ohio. We reached out to Commander Higdon at Reds command. They stated:” A statement scrolled on the TV, a picture of one of his oldest friends popping up. “We have nothing to do with disappearances of BANS troops along the border, if BANS needs help hunting down those responsible? We will render aid in anyway we can, I am in constant contact with Commander Carpenter at Mount Vernon and we are coordinating a response. We won’t allow anyone to restart this conflict.”
Mal shook his head while sipping back his glass of scotch into his mouth.
“Shocking. Just shocking that a military that never attacks keeps losing members to run and gun attacks at the border,” Mal says as he rolls his eyes, “though it would surprise me if Kevin was lying. He’s a terrible liar.”
Putting down the glass and Mal decided he had enough for the night, he walked back over to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water before he looked at picture with three sets of eyes staring back at him. Slamming the photo down face first on the kitchen counter, shattering the frame’s glass.
“Too much for today,” Mal said as he walked into the bedroom and took off his shirt.
Mal’s tall muscular frame hides the multiple scars that trace down his back between bullet wounds and stab wounds, his body was a historical telling of his pain and at 49 years old, it wasn’t a short story. Standing at Six foot one inches tall, he was not really the super impressive specimen that people imagined when they thought of a war fighter but he was one.
“I am too old for this shit,” Mal said as he laid down.
NEXT MORNING
“Fuck…” Mal said as he stood up from his bed and stumbled into the kitchen.
He had entirely too much to drink last night, again. Mal grabs the leftovers from last night and warmed them up in his microwave.Mal looked back at the picture laying face down on the counter. Mal picked it up and put it facing out again, he sighed.
“I have got to stop doing that,” Mal said.
Mal took the meat and vegetables out of the microwave, taking it over to the table. Like any person from his former profession, he ate his food in under two and a half minutes.
“Well, I need to go to Mount Vernon today so I might as well head out,” Mal said.
Mal walks out into his garage and past a military style humvee with a cover over it.
“Don’t think I need to use that,” Mal said, “I will just take the bike.”
Mal grabbed his leg holster and strapped it to his leg, then he walked over to a locker attached to the wall. Malcolm placed his thumb on the biometric keypad.
Inside is Malcolm’s personal Armory, an XM-24 Series Assault rifle, MP-5 Submachine Gun, FN MK22 SSR and a M-12 Beretta. Mal grabs the Beretta and attaches it to his leg holster and closes the locker. Mal hops onto his motorcycle and walks it out of his Garage.
“Mr. Daniels!”
A voice exclaimed from the side of his garage, Mal’s house was built into a hill and he allowed the neighbors child to play next to his house, the child’s blond hair and tan skin was framed with a pair bright blue eyes.
“Hey Kyle,” Mal said.
“Mr. Daniels, you said if I got an A in math, you would show me how to shoot. Well…” Kyle said as he showed Mal his report card, “I got an A plus!”
“Well, I always pay my debts young man, my house tomorrow AM 0745,” Mal said, “don’t be late and that means?”
“Be early!”
Kyle nodded and ran off to his house up the hill.
“Well, I guess there are miracles,” Mal said, “I never thought that kid would get an A in math.”
Mal turned the bike around and spun the tires as he drove away into the distance.
Mal didn’t always drive fast but he never drove slow except when he was in line to be searched to go into town.
“Sir, please get off the bike,” The guard said as he walked up to Mal with three other guards.
Mal got off the bike and raised his hands.
“What’s your name and business here?”
“Malcolm Daniels, I am here to purchase alcohol.”
“Malcolm Daniels?”
“Yep, that’s why I said that the first time.”
The guard walked back to the other three guards as they whispered between themselves before one walked to the guard hut, motioning to the others that he didn’t need to be searched.
“Apologies for holding you up Mr. Daniels,” the guard said, “Here’s a card for the express lane for searches for now on. Have a nice day, Sir.”
The man said. Then began to salute before, Mal grabbed his arm.
“Look kid, if you did that to me in a combat zone? I would shoot you myself.”
Mal would, that’s not an over-exaggeration. Mal knew who he was calling and just wanted to eliminate the second part of this equation. The young guard dropped his arm but looked uncomfortably back at his elder.
“This isn’t a combat zone-” stated the young man before clenched his fist, almost wanting a drink because of how stupid of a comment that was.
“Look around kid? Everywhere is a combat zone, now.”
Seeing the four men talking to someone on the radio as they looked back at the Forty-nine-year-old alcoholic, Mal whistled at them.
“Hey, assholes!”
Mal said before the four guards turned to him.
“Tell Tim, he can meet me at the grocery store!”
The smell of burning rubber kicked up into the air as Mal peeled off onto the road. Mal knew Tim wanted to beg him to come back to the military life.
The small businesses and housing near the front side of Mount Vernon passed him as he pulled straight into the Independent Grocer there on third street. Swinging the bike up into a parking spot and pushed out the kickstand to lean the bike as he got up and opened his saddle bags to grab the bags tha
t he had brought, in this new country they didn’t have the resources to dispose of things completely. The smaller towns in what used to be “Flyover country” didn’t have Whole Foods, so when the Countries food distributors were broken up by a border protected by men with guns, the smaller chains were at a huge advantage. This grocery store is a member of the Independent Grocers Alliance or IGA and they were at an evolutionary advantage because they had been dealing with finding local sources of foods for a long time. The big chains that relied on drawing the food from all the corners of the U.S. found themselves struggling when they found their distributors on the other side of the border, main office cut off. A few of them stayed around but most of them closed.
Mal walked into the Grocery store and was greeted by Larry Williams, the owner of the Grocery Store.
“Malcolm Jeffrey Daniels! Young man, get your shit together.”
“Excuse me, Larry?”
“You are going to cause a liquor shortage by yourself,” Larry said, “I just remember your parents and they wouldn’t want to see you like this.”
Mal rubbed his head in response to that, there was no good response to that.
“Look Larry, I am just trying to be happy as much as possible and I am happiest when I am drunk,” Mal said, “I was in the Navy. We drink a lot.”
Larry is an old man, in his early 90’s with silver hair.
“Mal, just go one night without the sauce, then go two. You are one of the last real heroes this world has, try acting like one again.”
“Larry, that’s real easy to say but you know when I asked for you to think of me as a hero?”
“When?”
“Never, Larry. I never asked any of you to think of me as a hero because I am not. I am not a hero, I never was, I never will be.”
“One day you will get it,” Larry said as he walked away.
Mal walked through the produce section and grabbed a various amount of meats and vegetables. Rice was something Mal could never go without because it was cheap and it didn’t go bad usually. After grabbing the food he walked into the Liquor section and to the Scotch, just to find that they were out.
“I figured I would find you here,” Tim said from behind him, “you know, punishing yourself every night isn’t going to change the past, Mal.”
Mal turned around to find Tim Carpenter, Regional Commander of all BANS troops. Former SEAL team 7 member of Mal’s team.
“Is it intervention day at IGA or what?”
“Actually, I am here to offer you a job,” Tim said, “I am putting together a team to deal with some of these disappearances going on around here and I am offering you the full package, I will let you pick whomever you want. You will be entirely in charge like our old team.”
The old team, Mal thought.
“You mean the old team that’s mostly dead? Or worse, the asshole on the other side of this wall who I am sure has a bit to do with these disappearances?”
Tim shook his head at him.
“Always wondered what happened to the warrior I used to know and what turned him into the puddle of pathetic crap that I see now,” Tim said as he walked away.
“I am pretty sure you know what happened Tim, you were fucking there!” Mal exclaimed as Tim walked to the entrance and left the store. “Also know, what you’re doing, trying to get a rise out of me? Try and get that other guy out of me? The two of them, are pretty much in a coma and locked away.
Mal grabbed two bottles of Whiskey putting them in the bag and began walking towards the checkout line.
“Will that be all sir?” The young lady at the checkout asked.
Mal just hated that saying.
“Yep, that’s why I came up here, because I was ready to check out.”
Mal waited for the total and grabbed his wallet from his pocket.
“57.22.”
Mal handed her his card and grabbed the bags, walking towards the exit he left the building and began walking to the door to the outside world. Mal was lucky that payments from the military were completely automated and that BANS still takes US dollars, he had been getting paid this whole time that the US government no longer exists.
Thank god debit cards didn’t have expiration dates when this all started, Mal said to himself every time he used it, slipping it into his wallet and walking out of the store.
Heading to his Motorcycle he saw a woman and a Giant of a man, with tattoos over his body. Putting his finger in the woman’s chest.
“I want my money,” said a large white man with tattoos as he pushed a woman to the ground. “You are going to get it for me…or I am going to start breaking bones, if you can’t, I’ll let you work it off for me.”
“Help!” The woman yelled as Mal turned and started walking towards his bike.
“You think that old man is going to do anything? He looks like a pussy ass bitch,” he said.
Not a hero, this isn’t my job, call the police, Mal thought.
The young man was about Six feet five inches tall and built like a brick shit-house. Mal started putting away his groceries in saddle bags as he felt the man behind him.
“Bitch, look at me when I am talking to you!” The thug said as he grabbed the woman by the throat and pulled her back to her feet.
Mal could feel the inner battle inside of him raging, it was like the old him was stuck inside a walled room with no door and as he saw this happening: he started punching at the wall. Beating into it with his bare fists until his knuckles were bloodied and he was breathing heavy.
It’s a nice thought but that guy isn’t inside me, he’s dead, Mal thought.
“PLEASE! SIR!!!!” Screamed the lady as the man punched her across the face.
“Look at this old coward,” The thug said, “you think that this guy is magically going to come to rescue. In fact, I am going to take some of his shit too, what you got for me old man?”
Mal, grabbed a push dagger out of his front saddlebags as the large man approached and turned to meet him.
“How can I help you,” The giant man looked at him with fury in his eyes and wearing a green shirt, “Incredible Bulk?”
“Funny,” the giant said, “see how funny you are when you are in a bloody mass on the pavement.”
“Look, I didn’t ask you to come over here,” Mal said, “what you do over there is none of my business. I am going to get on my bike and ride away, you should walk away.”
Mr. Williams stood twelve feet back as he tried to help the young lady back into the grocery store. The blood across her face brought a memory to the forefront of his mind: a woman on a bridge as blood spatters back at him.
God damnit, Mal thought. And a long lost feeling returned to him. Rage. Unending Rage, paired with the taste for blood.
“Are you in another universe old man? Thinking back to when you had courage?”
“Sure am,” Mal said.
The thug looked up with a face of surprise when Mal retorted, like he hadn’t had anyone stand up to him in a long time who wasn’t paid to keep the peace. Mal’s gray beard made him look a whole lot older than he actually was at 49, luckily still in amazing shape though thanks to the genetics his family passed down to him.
“Did you lose your god damn mind? Are you suicidal or some shit?”
“How did you think this was going to go down? Let me guess actually! You have run through your whole life” Mal stated, his tone warping and changing from fun-loving to almost an animal if it could talk, speaking with a growl almost, “being the big guy who walks around and beats others down, taking whatever you want because you are a monster, am I right?”
“You are damn right I am a monster and I am the monster who’s going to beat you to death in a few seconds,” he said puffing his chest out, “so unless you got a monster killing ability that is going to magically grow in a couple of seconds. Like most monsters, I am going to win.”
The man raised his right arm and swung it like an axe that would take Mal’s head off. Mal felt something
that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Adrenaline. That’s what he used to live for anyways: he was a junkie for the feeling. The feeling of danger, imminent real danger. Mal quickly slipped under and punched with his right hand into the back of the Thug’s shoulder. As Mal pulled his hand back he saw the blood from the stabbing of his punch knife. Deep with dark, brick red blood, Mal felt that feeling of superiority return. A growl spreading across his face as he stabbed again. And again. In the same spot.
I know, I know. This shouldn’t make me feel good. This was what I used to live for, this feeling of superiority. To use a special comparison, I feel like a Jedi who had cut himself off from the force and all of a sudden it all came back to him. I was almost overwhelmed, Mal thought
The thug grabbed at his shoulder like it had been cut off. Blood dripped from Mal’s punch knife in his hand.
“You know what’s the difference between you and me is?” Mal asked as he kicked the man’s knee in without even raising his fist, the punch knife wrapped around his middle finger on his right hand, dripping dark red visceral blood.
“Being an absolute dick?”
“No, but that’s also true,” Mal said as he had a dark smile spread across his face, stepping forward and driving a knee into the thigh of the thug and back out before the big, slow counter-punch could land, “some training, an education, seeing a therapist at the right time and maybe a better set of parents. Just like you, I am a monster: I just only get off on taking out other monsters. I only hunt those who hunt others.”
Mal started doing the mental calculus of whether he should kill him or not. The voice in the back of his head screamed to finish this guy, to kill him before he hurts someone else. Mal knew that voice and that voice while being him not wanting this man to live, it wasn’t purely to protect this young woman.
Pretty sure he just wants to add another mark to the ledger.
“You’re lucky I don’t want to stick around and talk to the cops,” Mal said as he turned around, “but I have to finish this first.”
Monsters Page 1
