Wretched Retribution

by E. G. Michaels

  The Reaper slowly knelt, lifted his hands up, and placed them on his head like his pack leader had told him to do. He lowered his eyes to stare at a spot in front of him on the ground and waited for the other warriors to approach.

  He felt their eyes on him, and then he began to speak in a series of growls and yips. He felt several hands grab his arms and lift him up. He didn't resist. It was very important that he didn’t. He was here on a special mission. If he followed his master’s orders exactly, then it would bring much honor to his packmates and him.

  Haas paced nervously, waiting for his soldiers to return.

  “You’re sure it's not one of ours?” Giles asked.

  “Positive. My warriors would know the difference.”

  There was a loud bang as a door was pushed open into this space. It was the ideal entranceway for their warriors because it lacked an actual doorknob. Haas still remembered the look of dismay on Giles’s face when he realized that their minions couldn’t figure out how to operate a doorknob. He’d finally gotten tired of having to open and close the door for their soldiers and just tore the knob out in a fit of rage. It might have been a bit childish on his friend’s part. But at least they no longer had to worry about some idiotic minion slamming repeatedly against the door until one of them opened it. Haas pushed the memory to the back of his mind and put a far more serious look on his face.

  “Bring him here,” Haas ordered.

  His soldiers half-carried, half-dragged the captured soldier forward. They released their captive, and he collapsed in a heap in front of Haas.

  The soldier immediately shifted onto his knees, staring at the floor, keeping his hands on top of his head.

  His actions were quite curious to Haas, and he couldn’t help but growl, “Who are you?”

  The soldier answered in a soft yelp, closely followed by a short growl.

  “Messenger, huh?” Haas said. “Interesting.”

  “Who do you think sent him?” Giles thought aloud.

  The messenger began to answer.

  “Hold still,” Haas interrupted. He reached out with his hand and grabbed the creature’s forehead. He felt the submitting messenger stiffen in pain, but he wisely did not fight back. Haas was glad he wouldn’t have to torture this lowly creature in order to get the information he wanted.

  Haas began to search through the messenger’s thoughts. As he did, a new voice sounded out in his head.

  “Ah, excellent. I see you got my messenger. Can I just say that for once, I'm glad you didn't kill the messenger? Beeks said.”

  “Bad joke,” Haas answered.

  “You have to give me some credit, Dwayne. How often have you known me to make jokes?”

  “You seem to be an unusually good mood,” Haas admitted.

  “I am. It has come to my attention that my good friend also managed to survive that clusterfuck known as Bergstrom Biogenics,” Beeks sent. “So tell me. Is your pocket protector geek with you, too?”

  Haas looked over at Giles and mentally said, “No, he's not.”

  “Dwayne, tsk, tsk. I have a very strong feeling you're being less than truthful.”

  Haas remained silent.

  “But that's okay. You can just as easily pass the word on.”

  “And what word is that?”

  “Oh, it's simple. I would like to talk about an alliance with you and your nerd friend.”

  “Why would you be interested in that?”

  “Oh, that's easy,” Beeks sent. “I've got millions of soldiers and most of the country under my control. You don't. But I couldn’t care less about that. I think two old friends could definitely reach a compromise that we both are happy with.”

  “When and where?”

  “Ah, excellent. I will be in touch. Let me set up a location just for the meet.”

  “I can't wait,” Haas said.

  “I’m looking forward to it, too,” Beeks answered. “I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, please take care of my messenger. Otherwise we could have an unwanted delay until a new one arrives.”

  “Don't worry, Beeks. Your messenger is safe for now. This better not be some kind of game.”

  “Of course not, Haas. That’s not how good friends treat each other, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Excellent. I’ll be in touch,” Beeks said.

  A moment later, Haas felt his former jailhouse friend’s presence leave. The messenger collapsed on the floor in front of him, too exhausted to care about the breach in etiquette.

  Haas decided to ignore the transgression. He turned to his soldiers and said, “Find lodging for our guest. Do not hurt him, but do not let him leave or mingle with the others, either.”

  A series of affirmative growls sounded out, and his warriors sprung into action. Haas waited until his minions had removed the messenger from the room before he turned his attention to Giles and said, “We need to talk.”

  Chapter Fifty

  There was a loud snapping noise near her, and Vasquez came to with a start. She saw a group of Reapers creeping toward her, and her adrenaline immediately skyrocketed. She brought her GAU-5/A rifle up to her right shoulder and began firing as fast as she could pull the trigger. She saw several monsters get hit by the barrage of bullets. She kept firing until the weapon clicked dry. Vasquez instinctively reached for another magazine with her left hand, and an immediate jolt of pain stopped her movement. Vasquez gritted her teeth and fought through the pain to grab the needed magazine. The pain was nearly unbearable, but she somehow managed to drop the spent magazine and slide a new one in its place. Vasquez brought her head up and looked. The Reapers were even closer. Worse, they had seemed to have grown in numbers. She brought the rifle up once more and screamed, “Come on, you bastards.” If she was going to die, then she was going to take as many of these things with her.

  Beeks watched as his minions tried to sneak up on the unconscious pilot. They had managed to get halfway to her when Beeks heard a loud snap and knew one of his soldiers had managed to step on a fallen branch.

  “You idiots. Capture the pilot now,” Beeks commanded.

  Beeks saw the pilot startle and bring a rifle up and begin shooting. He felt the bullets striking his children. He felt one and then another get shot in the head and die.

  “I want the pilot brought to me alive,” Beeks snarled.

  One of his minions was close enough now that he could make out the pilot’s face through their eyes. It was definitely a woman. She was different. A fighter with the spirit of a warrior, and Beeks couldn’t help but want her. The feeling surprised him. It wasn’t lust. It was respect. She was someone that somehow was being brave in the face of danger. That was someone who would make an excellent fighter in his army. Perhaps even a red-eyed Alpha once she had accepted the inevitable and surrendered to her eventual transformation.

  Beeks saw the woman struggling to load the rifle. There was something wrong with one of her arms.

  “What are you waiting for? Grab the woman,” Beeks ordered. “But do not kill her, or you will all die.”

  Beeks saw the woman bring the weapon up and begin firing again. He heard the woman scream something, but he wasn’t sure what she was saying.

  Several more of his warriors were hit by the flying bullets. Beeks felt another minion’s life force disappear and lost his cool.

  “Get her! Now, or I will kill all of you where you stand,” Beeks mentally screamed.

  He saw four minions slam into the woman from her left side. Beeks heard the woman scream out in pain and grab momentarily toward her left shoulder before using her right hand to attempt to push off her attackers. Six more Reapers piled onto her, and yet the pilot continued to battle in a losing attempt to get free.

  Beeks watched his soldiers slowly overpower the woman, pinning her arms and legs to the ground. An idea popped into his head, and he decided to act on it.

  Beeks reached out and took control of one of the Reapers. He compelled his soldier to move towar
d her exposed neck and sink its teeth into the tender flesh. The woman screamed out in pain, but Beeks ignored her. He needed information, and this pilot had it.

  Beeks drew up from his life force and channeled some energy through his conduit.

  “What are you doing here?” Beeks asked mentally. He reached out and touched the woman’s mind. She was definitely a fighter. She continued to mentally struggle against his powers. Even so, she was no match for his telepathic abilities.

  “I asked you a question. What are you doing here?” Beeks asked again.

  The pilot continued to struggle against his control. Beeks felt her body and mind continue to weaken.

  “Why are you here?” Beeks insisted. He felt the pilot’s body go limp. He continued to hold the bite, forcing more energy and life force into the woman’s body. He felt a new sensation. One where the woman’s mind and body could not hold any additional energy. He commanded his conduit to release its hold on the pilot’s neck. As the minion slowly withdrew, the pilot came to and Beeks was staring into a new pair of yellow eyes.

  “Let her up,” Beeks commanded. “Welcome, my child.”

  He watched through another soldier’s eyes as she lifted her head and slowly stared off into nowhere.

  “What an interesting person you are,” Beeks mentally sent. “You intrigue me. I am your master. Tell me why you are here.”

  He felt part of her mind begin to fight against him. Beeks was surprised this pilot was somehow able to try and resist his suggestions. But with her recent injuries and transformation, she had no chance to stop him. Beeks reached into her mind and bulldozed over her resistance.

  “Angel. I like your name. Perhaps I’ll let you keep it,” Beeks said. “Oh. You’re a pilot. A special mission. Tell me what you were supposed to do.”

  He felt some resistance spring forward again, and he immediately overpowered it.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will,” Beeks warned her. He gave her a mental pinch and felt her startle in surprise. “Tell me what I want to know. Now.” Beeks mentally grasped her mind and slowly began to squeeze her pain center until he felt her resistance collapse. And once it did, her resistance dropped completely and Beeks began to read her thoughts. Within seconds, he knew everything she did.

  Beeks released the pressure from the newly transformed soldier and felt her collapse in exhaustion.

  He reached out to the pack leader once more. “Bring her back to our den. Take care she arrives here safely and alive,” Beeks commanded.

  “Yes, my Lord,” the minion answered.

  Beeks withdrew from the pack leader’s mind. His senses slowly returned to his present location. As he became aware of his surroundings once more, he began to frown. The humans had been up to doing something very naughty. Something maybe even dangerous to his flock. He needed to do something to protect his family, but what? He had to come up with a plan, and fast. The pilot’s mind had suggested there was very little time left. Beeks stood up from his throne, took three striding steps, and then his knees suddenly buckled. A wave of exhaustion swept over him. Reaching long distance to interrogate the pilot had taken far more out of him than he had realized. He turned to return to his throne, took one staggering step, and crashed onto the floor unconscious.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  “Charles, you got a minute?” Amanda asked.

  “Of course,” Charles said with a smile. “I have as many minutes as you need.”

  “I need to ask you something,” Amanda said slowly, “but I'm not sure how.”

  “A direct approach would probably be fine.”

  “Do you regret ever marrying Helen?”

  “What? Oh heavens, no,” Charles exclaimed. “Why would I?”

  “Well, it's just she's not here now, and she was killed by the Reapers at the hospital and—”

  “Yes, I miss Helen. I miss her more than I could ever say. She was the love of my life. I can’t tell you how many times I wish she hadn’t sacrificed herself in order to buy our freedom. But I understand why she did what she did.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. The truth of the matter is, Helen was very sick with the cancer. The doctor told us the odds weren’t good and even with treatment she would be beat the disease.”

  “But wasn’t she responding to the chemotherapy?”

  “It depends on who you ask. I thought she was getting better, but even before she made her final decision, she wasn’t nearly as optimistic. The thing is, I managed to have many years with the most wonderful person I've ever known. We raised two wonderful children who are now adults.”

  “Even your daughter?”

  “Especially her,” Charles said with a smile. “She’s just as spirited as an adult as she was when she was little.”

  “Wow. It couldn’t have been easy.”

  “Sometimes it wasn’t. But I'm thankful for all of the time and experiences we had together. I would have loved to have more time with Helen. But I wouldn't trade that what I did have for anything else in the world.”

  “You really mean that, don’t you?”

  “Of course. There are only two certainties in life. One day we will be born. And someday in the future we will die. Everything else in between is to be determined. All we can do is plan for the worst and hope for the best. I'm not sure if I answered your question.”

  “No, you did,” Amanda said. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime,” Charles said with a smile.

  “It's a trap,” Giles argued. “And you’re going to lead us right into it.”

  “It might be,” Haas admitted. “But nobody said we had to blindly step right into it.”

  “Well, how do you figure he’s going to want to meet?”

  “He’ll send another messenger.”

  “And let me guess. As soon as he does, you’ll want to drop everything and go meet this guy.”

  “We’ll meet him at a time that works for all of us.”

  “Uh-huh. We couldn't trust him when we were in the pen with him. We sure as hell can't trust him now.”

  “Except we've got leverage now,” Haas said. “We know where this Foster guy is. Beeks has been hot to find this guy for days. We offer up Foster, and in return he lets us stay in our little area here untouched.”

  “And we just let him have everything else?”

  “He's not an unreasonable man,” Haas said. “Horatio will definitely take us up on that deal.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What's to know? If he doesn't just take the deal, then he doesn’t get Foster. You think he’s going to want to be embarrassed in front of his minions? Trust me, he won't.”

  “There's only two of us.”

  “So? There’s only one of him.”

  “We've seen what yellow-eyed Reapers can do.”

  “You and I were stronger than them.”

  “Yeah, but he's got numbers. A lot more of them than we do.”

  “You worry too much,” Haas said.

  “Somebody has to. Especially when you go off on a tangent like this.”

  “You're not my mother,” Haas growled.

  “I never said I was,” Giles pointed out. “I've got a bad feeling about this, Dwayne.”

  “You and your bad feelings. I’m telling you, it will be fine. We’ll meet him someplace neutral, and we'll talk.”

  “Just talk, huh?”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll insist he guarantee our safety. If we don’t like how things are going, then we just walk away and he won’t ever find out where this Foster human is.”

  “Yeah, I guess that could work.”

  “Good. I’m glad we agree,” Haas said. “I'll set it up. Don't worry. Everything's going to be fine.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Beeks came to with a start, and an immediate wave of panic coursed over him. The humans were going to bomb their own cities. He might only have a few moments remaining to warn his children before it was too late. The prob
lem was he didn’t know which places they were planning on targeting. The pilot only knew of a few places. That made sense, because one fighter pilot couldn’t bomb every possible city in the United States. Could there be other targets throughout the country? He couldn’t be sure, and that was a big problem. Beeks staggered to his throne and sat down heavily.

  Beeks grimaced at the thought of what he needed to do next. He wasn’t fully recovered yet from his long-range interrogation. And now it was going to require another large amount of his mental energy to contact all of his family at once. He’d never had a reason before now to reach out to millions of minions at once. Would this be enough to kill him?

  Beeks shifted his position on the throne. It was important that he was sitting down someplace away from most of his troops. If his hunch was right, this mass transmission would wipe out his energy reserves again. He needed to be someplace where he wouldn't be visibly weak in front of his soldiers.

  He glanced at the doorway. No one had followed him into his throne room, and his guards remained facing outward at the entranceway.

  Perfect, Beeks thought. He closed out and reached out telepathically to his extended family.

  “Hear me, children,” Beeks thought. “The humans are about to drop fire from the sky. They are going to try and hurt all of us.” He heard a series of growls and yips seemingly equal mix of anger and fear.

  “Look around you,” Beeks continued. “Find shelter someplace below ground. Do not be caught out in the open. It will be very dangerous for you to be outdoors when the bombs begin falling. Take your brothers and sisters with you. Go deep underground. I will help and reach out to you after these bombings have ended. Be safe, my children.”

  Beeks felt several replies pop up in his mind. The number began to increase, and he quickly decided to turn them off and avoid the likely chaotic noise it would create in his mind. Beeks slumped back in his throne. He noticed he was completely drenched in sweat. Just as bad, his efforts had left him feeling extremely weak. He glanced toward the doorway. His guards had moved back to their standard positions and were still standing with their backs to him. Good. No one had seen him in his weakened state. He didn’t have to worry about a potential rebellion for now.