The monster’s hand shot out and grabbed the preacher by the top of the head.
Ezekiel immediately felt a shot of pain and dropped to his knees, clutching the monster’s wrist.
“You should show me a lot more respect than that,” Giles warned. He applied a bit more pressure to the preacher’s head and was rewarded by a louder groan.
“I’m sorry,” Ezekiel said between gritted teeth. “You surprised me. That’s all.”
“It’s so easy for you to forget your roots. Where you came from,” Giles said. He released his hold on the man’s skull, and Ezekiel collapsed into a ball on the floor. “Do you not remember?”
“Of course I do,” Ezekiel answered. “It’s been mutually beneficial.”
Giles chuckled. “You mean you get most of the humans as new members, and I get the occasional rebel rouser,” he said. “At least you could have given me someone who didn’t smell so awful.”
“If it’s any consolation, all of them were badly in need of a proper bath.”
“You've managed to create a nice little group for yourself here. And it’s grown by leaps and bounds because of my help,” Giles said. “It would be a shame to lose it.”
“Why would I lose it?”
Giles’s hand shot out once more. He grabbed Ezekiel by the back of the neck and yanked up onto his feet. He pulled the man’s face close until they were nearly nose to nose. Ezekiel let out a small whimper of fear.
“What do you want?” the preacher stammered.
“I have something I need done,” Giles answered. “I would like your flock to handle it for me.”
“W-what?”
“There is a man who has become very important to me. I want you to find this man and bring him to me alive. He is currently with another group nearby. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes. But you said he’s with another group,” Ezekiel said. “What would you like us to do with them?”
“You can do whatever you like with them,” Giles said. “They are of no concern or use to me. But bring me this Foster man alive.”
“We won’t fail you.”
“You better not,” Giles said. “Or our next conversation won’t be nearly as pleasant.”
Chapter Forty-Five
“Wait, I thought you were leaving on your own,” Lauren said. “Are you serious about taking him with us on our boat?” she said, pointing at Charles.
Foster felt his jaw drop. They were hours away from leaving, and Lauren waited until now to raise her objections? It was petty and completely ridiculous. “I’m completely serious. He has a name,” Foster said. “It’s Charles. And in case you forgot, he's your father.”
“I know that, I'm not stupid,” Lauren answered. “As far as I'm concerned, that man gave up his right to call himself my father years ago.”
“You know what? This is bullshit,” Foster said. “We don't have time for this. Take a fucking look outside. Take a good look at what's going on out there. We need to be working together, not against each other. I don't care what happened in the past. I don't care whose feelings got hurt, who's to blame, and who wasn't. This needs to end now. We need to work together as a group. If you can't get on the same fucking page as the rest of us, then maybe you need to go on your own way.”
“Oh, I'm sure he would like that,” Lauren shouted. “Wouldn't he? In case you hadn’t noticed, that’s our boat, not yours.”
“Lauren, please,” Charles said. “Please don't do this. If not for me, then for your brother and your mom.”
“Mom isn't here. And what would you know about what mom would want?”
“Because she used to talk to me about everything,” Charles said in a deliberate calming tone. “She told me what happened. How the drugs weren't yours.”
Lauren did a double take. “Wait, what?”
“That's right. We kept waiting for a time when you were going to be willing to talk to me. But you were so angry all the time,” Charles said. “It never seemed to be the right time for us to really talk about what happened. I couldn’t ever find the right moment to apologize. What happened that night was the hardest decision I've ever had to make my life.”
“I don't believe you.”
“Why would I lie?” Charles said. “You are my daughter, my pride and joy.”
“Really? It seemed like every time I turned around, you were always riding my ass about something.”
“Because I saw how much potential you had. I knew you were on the cusp of greatness. You know, you could have done anything. You had the top grades in your classes. You were smart, beautiful, even funny. All the best parts of your mom and even me all rolled into one,” Charles said. “And yet you wouldn't listen to us. You were constantly fighting us every step of the way. When we came home that night and we saw the drugs and liquor bottles, I felt like you left me no choice. I had to do what was right to protect your brother, and I hated every minute of it.”
Lauren sat down, looking stunned. “I don't know what to say.”
“Sorry is probably a good start,” Foster said. “It sounds like you weren’t very fair to your dad.”
“What the hell would you know about being a parent?” Lauren shot back.
“Not much,” Foster admitted, “but I’m a cop. I understand the importance of protecting those who need me to do so. I understand the importance of steering bad influences away from the innocent. The way I see it, sometimes being a parent requires a little bit of both of those things.”
“I'm sorry,” Charles said. “Can you forgive me?”
“I don't know,” Lauren said softly. She was visibly struggling to keep her emotions in check. “This is a lot to take in right now.”
“You know, your dad might have a point,” Randy said. “Maybe it's best if you just sleep on it for now. And, you know, maybe just try not to yell at him so much?”
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Lauren said. “I’d be a lot easier to be around, then.”
“Well, it hasn’t been easy sometimes,” Randy admitted. “I've seen you get so angry every time you see him. Might be a nice change of pace to see y'all getting along. Plus, what the good officer said kind of makes sense. With those things out there, we really do need to work together to stay alive.”
A tear started forming in Lauren’s eyes. “You had no idea how much you hurt me.”
“I know, and I'm sorry,” Charles said. He slowly walked over, opened his arms, and his daughter stepped into them. He wrapped his arms around her and held her in a long embrace as Lauren sobbed against his shoulder. “I'm sorry, dear,” Charles said softly. “Can you ever forgive me?”
“I'm sorry, too, Daddy,” she said.
Foster quietly retreated to the kitchen to let Charles and his daughter continue to talk.
As he entered the room, he saw Derrick eating a bowl of instant oatmeal.
“How’s Nick?” Sams asked between bites.
“Resting,” Foster answered. “Under spousal guard.”
“Huh. I can’t believe Nick got concussed. He’s probably got the hardest head of any guy I’ve ever met.”
“In all fairness, a red-eyed Reaper did slam a wall into him.”
“How was the wall afterward?”
“In pieces,” Foster said. “Why?”
“Sounds like a draw to me. The wall was in pieces, and the guy with a skull made out of Adamantium just got a headache.”
“Adam what?”
“Adamantium. You know, the stuff Wolverine’s skeleton and claws are made out of.”
Foster gave Sams a fishy-eyed look.
“You know, X-Men. Tell me you at least watched one of the movies.”
“Can we get back to reality, please?” Foster said. “I did a quick ammo count, and we have less than one hundred hollow points and most of them were turned into enhanced bullets. I told Abrahams we had another possible Reaper killing method we were going to test.”
“Why the hell did you tell him that? In case you hadn’t noti
ced, we’re down one shooter while Nick is on forced bed rest.”
“Leverage. Three new ways to kill Reapers fast sounds a helluva lot more interesting than two. I wanted to guarantee all of us are allowed onto a military-controlled remote island.”
“Three does sound better,” Sams said. “But when, pray tell, are we going to do a test? It’s night time, and we need to get to the marina first thing in the morning before your big deadline.”
“Our big deadline.”
“Tomato, toh-mato.”
“What if we go out tonight?”
“Uh, in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s night time. The Reapers are tough to deal with during the day. At night, they’re a lot harder to see coming your way.”
“We need ammo.”
“You already said that.”
“So let’s go get some. Maybe shoot a Reaper with one of the test bullets on the way back?”
“Like a drive-by shooting?”
“If we have to,” Foster said. “To be honest, I haven’t done much shooting out of a moving vehicle.”
“Yeah, me neither. The problem is, you guys already hit the gunsmith. There wasn’t much ammo left there. I didn’t see any other places near us that might still have ammunition.”
“Not near us,” Foster said excitedly. “But there’s one in Disciple territory. I bet at this time of night it’s closed.”
“Wait, what?”
“Ready to do a nighttime op? We get in, grab what we need, and get out. Easy peasy.”
“Do I really have a choice?”
Foster said nothing.
“Aww, hell. Walker picked a lousy time to get hurt.”
“You’re welcome to go ask Lizzy if Nick can go instead.”
“Now you’re just being a dick,” Sams complained. “Tell me about this place before I change my damn mind.”
Chapter Forty-Six
“I got a bad feeling about this,” Sams said.
“You always say that,” Foster said. “It doesn't change the fact that we need these supplies. Look, the Disciples are tucked in their beds at home. They don’t even have the store security systems on because they don’t think anybody would break into one of their stores at night. The Reapers are busy wandering around the parts of town not controlled by the Disciples. Like I said, we grab the stuff we need and then get out.”
“Yeah, maybe. Even so, this place gives me the creeps. I mean, because there's spots where it's pitch black. There could be things hiding where we can’t see, waiting to jump us.”
“Wait, are you scared?”
“What? Never,” Sams protested. “I’m an Army Ranger. We don’t do scared.”
“Then nut up, Army,” Foster quipped. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we get to go rejoin the rest of the group.”
“Uh-huh. I knew you were going to say that.”
The men worked their way toward the back of the sporting goods store where they were likely to find hunting supplies. For this mission, both men had opted to go with SWAT wireless comm units and their suppressed AR-15 rifles. Each man had removed the Eotech M914 Optic sight from their rifles and were using them as a helmet-mounted monocular instead. They would be relying heavily on them to see in the nearly dark store but would still have the option to whatever tools or weapons were needed.
“Hold up,” Foster said.
“What's wrong?”
“There's some nice backpacks over here,” Foster said.
“We both have a backpack already.”
“Right. And if we can fill one or two more with additional supplies, then that's even more gear for the group.”
“I thought we were worried about too much weight on the boat.”
“Randy is worried about extra weight,” Foster pointed out. “I say we grab whatever we think we might need and worry about what to pack for the boat later. Like Nick said, we can store any extra supplies in the attic.”
“I’m not sure I like tying up our hands with extra baggage. It could make it harder to defend ourselves.”
“One bag extra each, Derrick. We can toss it over one shoulder or tie them to our current packs.”
“Fine,” Sams muttered. “But I don't think we're going to need them.”
Foster grabbed two suitable backpacks and attached them to the side of his current one. They dangled awkwardly against his side, but at least he was still able to keep both hands on his rifle.
“I’ll take point,” Foster said over the comms.
“Copy that,” Sams answered.
Foster risked a quick glance back and saw his friend was following a few steps behind actively scanning for any potential threats which might attack them from behind. This store was located in the heart of Disciple territory, so Foster was more worried about running into a hostile shooter than a Reaper. But so far, the place was dead quiet.
Foster worked his way through aisles of clothes until he reached an aisle end cap with an assorted collection of baseball equipment. He actively scanned left to right. As he did, he spotted something and immediately raised his fist up in the air. Foster slowly re-scanned the area and saw there were three Reapers feasting on a body. There was a blood trail leading off in the distance, and Foster couldn’t help but wonder if the monsters had dragged someone in here to feed on.
“Contact,” he whispered over the comms. “Three Reapers. Silent three count.”
Sams clicked twice on the comms, acknowledging the message.
Foster motioned to where he wanted Sams to go, and there was another double-click in his ear. He used his peripheral vision to watch the former Ranger begin working his way to the right side of the entrance of the aisle. Foster moved to the left side, held up his rifle in a ready position, and mentally counted to three. When he hit zero, he pivoted into the aisle and fired once, striking a startled Reaper between the eyes. He shifted his aim, firing a second time, hitting the nearby Reaper. A series of gunfire erupted next to him, and he saw the third Reaper drop.
A roar sounded behind them, and Foster pivoted to look. Four more Reapers were charging toward them, and he shifted his aim, firing to engage. He unleashed a trio of bullets, striking the lead Reaper in the legs, cutting it down. Foster shifted his aim and fired a double-tap, striking the Reaper in the nose and the forehead, dropping it. He didn't have time to admire his skilled shooting, because the remaining Reapers were now thirty feet away. Foster shifted his aim, fired once more. This time, the bullet flew true, striking the closest Reaper in the jaw. Foster saw the monster stagger sideways and slam into another Reaper. The two monsters fell to the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs. Foster took advantage of it, aiming, firing a double-tap at the tangled duo.
He shifted his aim. The last Reaper remaining was now only fifteen yards away. He unleashed a barrage of bullets, stitching his trail up the monster's body until the last bullet slammed into the creature's eye. The Reaper did a deathly pirouette, collapsing onto the ground, facing away from him. He heard more gunfire behind him and glanced to see Sams had another half-dozen that he was engaged in. There was a roar to Foster's left, and he swung that way.
“Incoming,” Foster said. “Twelve o’clock.”
“A little busy here,” Sams said. “Give me a minute.”
“I'll take care of it,” Foster said. He turned and fired. He saw two of the monsters drop. The aisle was suddenly clear, and Foster took a step to his right, moving to assist Sams. Foster fired twice more, striking one of the monsters in the shoulder and the neck. The monster staggered and dropped to one knee, where Foster then shot it again, striking it between the eyes. He saw the monster's head snap back, and its momentum caused it to strike another creature in the face. The still living monster was rocked back onto its heels. The Reaper stopped moving, and wiped its paw to try and clear its eyes. Foster fired twice, striking the monster in the chest and then the jaw. The monster fell backward, tripping another monster coming toward them. Foster unloaded his rifle, cutting the remaining two monsters
down.
There was a roar to his behind him, and Foster spun around. He saw another Reaper bearing down on him a split second before it slammed into his chest, knocking him to the ground. Foster lost his grip on his rifle and felt it begin to drop. He felt the weapon’s sling go taut, keeping the weapon from getting too far away. Foster brought his hands and legs up, hooked them around the monster, pulled it into his guard. Foster shifted his left hand around the monster's neck and sunk his grip in. The monster immediately began trying to pull away and he resisted the motion. Foster didn’t want to give the Reaper a chance to pull back and lunge for his face. Even so, the monster managed to swing a handful of claws at his side. Foster felt the claws graze his ribs through the fabric of his body armor.
Foster reached down, drew his dagger out of its holster, and brought it up in a half-arc, slamming into the back of the neck of the Reaper. He heard the monster scream and stiffen in his grasp. As he went to pull the dagger away, he felt its blade stick in the monster's neck. He pushed the dead Reaper onto its back, dropped into a half-kneeling position, and began trying to free the embedded dagger. Foster heard a roar and turned his head toward the noise in time to see another Reaper approaching. He barely had to brace himself before the new hostile’s shoulder slammed into him and knocked him backward. The body on the floor altered his fall slightly, and Foster felt his right arm bang into a nearby metal aisle shelf. There was an immediate clattering noise, and Foster felt several objects strike him. He winced in pain as each one of these items landed on his body. The Reaper yelped in pain and backpedaled away from the falling metal objects.
Bats. I'm getting hit by fucking bats, Foster thought. He reached out, grabbed one of the aluminum bats, and began to pull it up and across his body. Foster saw movement in his peripheral and instinctively brought the bat up to block a likely attacker. He saw the Reaper dive toward him, its mouth open and ready to chomp down on his neck or face. The monster’s momentum carried it into the bat, and Foster saw the aluminum weapon slammed into the monster's jaw. The Reaper howled in pain and flopped backward, clutching its jaw.
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