The Wrath Walker (The Wrath Series Book 1)

by Matthew Newson

  “I remember what we did very vividly, but are we certain that none of them survived? Are we so sure that none of them had children that would want to aid Brandon in his quest for revenge against us?”

  I took a few more puffs on my cigar, and the more Enzo talked, the more of what he said had started to make sense. “I see what you’re saying, and let’s just say that you’re correct in your theory. Do you have any idea who could be helping him?”

  “I don’t, but I’m sure if we find one then we will find the other or others as well. There could be more than one helping him pull of his revenge scheme, and it would certainly help him to keep the cops off his back. Someone could go and perform the hit while Brandon makes sure he’s seen by others so he will have a solid alibi when the police question him. I should know because I have used the same tactic before. In a way it’s kind of funny how he said he was nothing like us at the trial, and now Brandon is exactly like us. Sounds like he’d make a good wise guy now if we didn’t have to kill him.”

  “That’s never going to happen. We have to find Brandon and his friends and make an example of them to show everyone we still run this city. Do you hear me? I want their deaths to be as painful as possible, and then I want their bodies to be strung up for everyone in the city to see. I want to send a clear message to make sure no one ever gets any ideas like this in the future.” I released a mouthful of smoke.

  “I agree with you wholeheartedly that a message needs to be sent.”

  “Since this is your area of expertise, what do you have in mind, Enzo?”

  “We need to have those in our employ in the police department let us know first when they spot Brandon, so we can pick him up ourselves and deal with him.”

  “That’s smart, because if we put the word out on the street, Brandon and his pals could catch wind of it and then disappear before we can make them pay for what they’ve done.”

  “Again, I agree we can’t have that. It’s best if we can catch him off guard, so he doesn’t try and run and warn his friends.”

  As I looked at the empty chairs where Joey and Frankie sat, I knew their deaths bothered me. But what bothered me the most was the potential chaos that could erupt in the streets if it wasn’t dealt with quickly. “Listen to me, Enzo, I want to be a part of this, do you hear me?”

  “Boss, I can’t let you put yourself at risk like that. You’re too important—”

  “No!” I barked. “I’m ending Brandon myself. He’s had it coming since he first joined the police department and made it his mission to take me down. The jerk had the nerve to say that to me once, do you believe that? I’ve killed men for less than that.”

  “I believe it now after everything that guy has done.” Enzo took out the thin gold box from his jacket pocket that held his cigarettes. He took one out and lit it, and breathed in as deep as he could, probably to calm himself. I had never yelled at him as much as I had in that meeting.

  “Once your friends in the police department have found him, we go collect him and his pals, and do to them what they did to our friends. For when their bodies are discovered stabbed, beaten, and burned a clear message will be sent throughout the entire city that the Amaras are a force to be reckoned with, and you can do it all to them, boss.”

  “Now that is a great idea.” I smiled as I pictured what I was going to do to Brandon and his companions. I stepped out of the secured room and got another burner phone and alerted my friend with the police department of what was to be done when Brandon was spotted. They complied and told me they would alert me as soon as they located him or received word of Brandon’s whereabouts. I returned to my secured room where Enzo had just finished his first cigarette and was lighting another.

  “What did your friend at the station have to say?” Enzo took another long drag on his cigarette.

  “They will let us know as soon as he shows up. You and I both know that it’s just a matter of time before Brandon and whoever is helping him are dead. It’s kind of funny when you think about it.”

  “What’s that, Skeeter?”

  “Brandon is already dead, and he just doesn’t know it yet. When I get my hands on him, I’m going to need your expertise in keeping him alive as long as possible because I want him to suffer for what he has done.”

  “Nothing would make me happier, Skeeter.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brandon Farmer

  The City of Black Castle

  I SPED AWAY FROM THE warehouse as the flames began to dance into the windows, and black smoke slowly edged out from the cracks in them and into the night sky. I wondered if Wrath watched where I was going from wherever he disappeared to. There wasn’t a force on the earth that had a chance of stopping him, or even matched the kind of power that man possessed. I was more terrified of him than I had been after he killed Ron before my eyes and said that he was coming to kill me as well. I had literally just witnessed a ball of fire form in his hand and then move on its own to ignite Frankie into a screaming inferno. That was all the proof I needed to know that Wrath was who he said he was, and I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he came from God. God, who was supposed to be all loving and forgiving, and didn’t want any to perish, but wanted all to come to know him.

  Then again, he also punished the wicked when he became angry. He kicked out the angels who rebelled against him and put Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden for disobeying him when he said not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. God didn’t even save his only begotten son, Jesus, when they nailed him to a cross and crucified him for all to see. Yep, I was a dead man, and I desperately needed to find the answer in that old Bible story to save my life. A chill ran up my spine as I thought about ending up like Frankie and then burning for all eternity in Hell since God seemed determined to consume me in his wrath. I hadn’t talked to God in years, and I felt compelled to cry out to him for help.

  I sadly dismissed the thought.

  Even if I cried out to him, I doubted he wanted to talk to me, or even turn his ear to hear me.

  I hesitated for a moment as I approached the road, but then I remembered the fire station was several blocks to my left. They would come from that direction, so I turned right to avoid any of them seeing me and tying me to the scene of the crime. I wasn’t ready to be interrogated again by Lizzie. If I wouldn’t have been there and witnessed it all firsthand, I would have a hard time believing it myself. It was only a matter of time before Lizzie pinned all the murders on me anyway, but I was sure Wrath would kill me before the trial. He’d make it look like I took my own life so everyone would think I did that to avoid prison.

  With each breath I took, the clock was ticking, and Wrath only had two more targets on his list before he turned his sights on me. That only added to the overwhelming stress of my plight. I knew I couldn’t return home because the Amaras had to be looking for me once they were tipped off about whatever remained of Frankie in that warehouse. They’d sent him after me because they thought I had killed Joey, so I knew they wanted me dead. The Amaras were nothing but narcissistic psychopaths that would kill even their own family members for a dollar, but I wondered what I had done that even the divine wanted me dead. I decided to drive around as I tried to figure out what Wrath wanted me to see in the story of Sodom and Gomorrah.

  I passed a burger place and wanted to swing through the drive-through, but the Amaras had eyes everywhere. I figured I would only be able to eat about two bites anyway before the adrenaline that ran through my veins shut off my appetite and caused the food to make me sick. I checked my speed and saw I was going about twenty miles an hour over the speed limit, and I immediately let up on the accelerator. I needed to calm down and not draw any attention to myself until I was ready to face Wrath and the Amaras. Wrath only said I could stop him from killing me, but he hadn’t said anything about the others. It wouldn’t be a great loss to society if he intended to kill the rest of the Amaras. He would be doing the city a great service, but that was
n’t the way to look at the situation. The Amaras should stand trial and spend the rest of their miserable lives locked up in a super max facility.

  As I made the turn at the next light, I began to break down the old Bible story in my mind to find the needle in the proverbial Biblical haystack. Two angels went to Lot and said they were going to destroy the city, and Lot and his family needed to get out of there as fast as they could. Is that what I needed to do as well? Run away from Black Castle? If I went to another city, was that really all I had to do to stop Wrath from ending my life? That didn’t make any sense. He could find me anywhere I tried to hide. He’d told me that, and I had nothing concrete that said his activities were confined only to Black Castle. Also, Wrath hadn’t told me to leave the city like those angels did Lot, but to solve his puzzle in order to save my life from my sin of not opening my own eyes to what Ron was doing and how he used me.

  I checked my mirrors to make sure no one was following me and returned to my train of thought. After Lot and his family left, his wife being turned to salt was the next major event from the story that popped in my mind. Lot and his family were warned by the angels not to look back on the destruction when they left. But Lot’s wife did anyway, and she suffered a horrible fate. She was immediately turned into salt for her disobedience, but Wrath has made no mention of not looking back at anything. He wanted me to figure it out and live, but Lot’s wife died the moment she turned back. I also got the feeling Wrath had something else planned for me if I made it through his game.

  I was beyond frustrated because nothing in my life made the slightest bit of sense. I never understood why God allowed my dad, the only person who could help me, die before all the stuff with Ron and the Amaras happened. That was when I needed my father and his wisdom the most. He would have gotten through to me, but he was gone, and I was lost. I had to bury my father, my career, my relationship with Lizzie, and everything else in my life I cared about, six feet in the ground with my father. I was always told God worked in mysterious ways, but what he was doing to me seemed cruel, and not like him at all. I understood God going after evil people like the Amaras, since the things they did clearly made them enemies with God. But I didn’t understand why I had to be lumped in with his enemies. Was my oversight really that egregious that the lives of those Ron aided the Amaras in taking had to be a mill stone tied around my neck? Did I have to be condemned me to a loathsome and lonely life and apparently unavoidable dreaded fate?

  There had to be something in that story I had overlooked. Or was it all just an elaborate smokescreen to keep me chasing my tail so I wouldn’t be able to stop Wrath from killing everyone? Maybe that had always been his goal. To send me down the rabbit hole while he killed the ones on his list until he got to me.

  I wanted to yell at God about all the things I considered to be unfair in my life until my throat was hoarse, like I had done so many times in the past. My heart pounded, my muscles were primed, my grip tightened on the steering wheel. My eyes narrowed as I prepared to release a tirade of profanity as I stopped at the red light. I raised my fist to deliver another punishing blow to the steering wheel, but then an image of my father came to mind. He’d be so disappointed to see me in that moment. He had always taught me self-control was important for a man to have, and that I shouldn’t use the language I was about to use as a way to deal with problems. He told me if I didn’t like something, I needed to work to change it. If I wasn’t willing to put the time and effort into fixing the situation, I didn’t have a right to complain about it.

  I sighed as I slowly brought my hand down and placed it on the steering wheel. I lowered my head, totally and completely ashamed of myself, not just for what I was about to do, but for so many things I had done since my dad had passed. I realized I had never truly tried to live for God, but I sure put on a good façade so I wouldn’t disappoint my father when he was alive.

  At a stoplight, the words came pouring out. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I know I have failed you in so many ways, and that you have no reason to be here for me in my time of need. So, I will only ask you once, and if you don’t do anything for me, I completely understand. But Jesus, will you please help me?” I remained quiet, in complete desperation, as I waited for an answer from God. All I received was shock to the system when the car behind me sounded its horn signaling the light had turned green.

  I continued in silence to wait for an answer from God as I drove around. I proceeded around the city in a haze of self-pity. I entered a part of town that had more family friendly things to do, and usually had a lot of people walking around. I slowed my pace and was extra cautious. At one point a young boy was playing on a sidewalk and unknowingly stepped into the street. I slammed on my brakes to keep from hitting him. The boy’s father ran and scooped him up and gave me a friendly wave as he returned to the sidewalk with his son. The dad knelt to check on his son, and I’m sure he reminded him in a loving and concerned way to not run off, especially onto a busy street. The scene reminded me of all the times I had done that when I was a kid, and my father would do the same thing with me. It also trudged up the heart-wrenching feelings of sadness at knowing those experiences with my father would never happen again.

  It hit me then, out of nowhere, and as the light came on in my brain. I knew what I needed to do to be saved and stop Wrath from ending my life.

  How could I have been so blinded to the answer that had been right before my very eyes all that time? Wrath told me he wasn’t going to spoon feed me the answer when we first met, but that was exactly what he had been doing all along. Everything Wrath had claimed to be was true, and that revelation also birthed a deep and horrifying fear of God I had never known before. I had my answer, and I needed to find Wrath right away. I also couldn’t risk being found by the Amaras in the process. However, Wrath always seemed to find me wherever I was, so I figured he’d be popping in some time soon.

  I exited the busy part of the city and drove around with a renewed hope in my heart. In my excitement, I never realized that I had driven right by my building. My hope turned to apprehension as I locked eyes with Enzo Amara, who sat in his car undoubtedly waiting for me to show up. We both seemingly stared at each other in disbelief for a split second. As I stepped on the gas, he quickly shot up behind me. My old beat-up car didn’t stand a chance against Enzo’s reinforced sports car. All the top Amaras had their cars armored up to protect against any assassination attempts. Within seconds, Enzo had pulled up on the passenger side and started to nudge me over so I’d crash into the power pole ahead. I decided to take my chances at bailing out and making a run for it instead of having a head-on collision. If I crashed, that was the opening he needed to put a bullet in my head. I gave Enzo’s car a hard bump to try and throw him off as I slammed on the brakes. My car came to a stop faster than I expected, and I was out the door and running for my life before Enzo was able to back up. I felt along my waist and then kicked myself for leaving my gun in the car. but if I could get back to my office, I could get another weapon to defend myself. I didn’t think Enzo was bold enough to shoot me out in the open, but I wasn’t going to wait around and find out. I checked over my shoulder and caught a quick glimpse of him as he tore out of his car door after me on foot.

  I sprinted past the random shops as fast as I could and to my building. I burst through the front door to the small run-down lobby. I didn’t bother to check and see if someone waited there to ambush me. I figured if there were, I’d catch them by surprise at the very least. I was slightly relieved when I didn’t hear gun shots or someone from behind me yelling at me to stop. I hit the stairs and took two at a time until I got to my floor. In spite of my oxygen-deprived lungs and screaming leg muscles, the surge of fear allowed me to increase my pace when I got to my floor. I pulled my keys from my pocket and had the right one in hand so I could quickly unlock the door. I felt a brief sense of relief as I entered the office part of my home, but then I saw there was a man sitting at my desk with slicked back white hair in a
high-end gray suit. Even though I had never officially met the man, I knew exactly who he was before he opened his mouth and said a word.

  “Mr. Farmer, it’s about time you showed up. I have been waiting to speak with you for a while now. Please do come in and take a seat but keep your hands where I can see them if you would be so kind.”

  I saw red at the sight of the man who had cost me just about everything that was good and decent in my life. Skeeter Amara sat at my desk with a satisfied smile on his face, and I wanted to kill him. As I readied myself to fly across the table and strangle the much older man with my bare hands, my eyes suddenly fell on the polished chrome nineteen-eleven handgun he had pointed at me. He would unload the magazine in my chest before I got halfway across the room. I still wanted to kill him, but I kept my rage in check as I tried to devise a way to get that gun away from him without being shot, and before Enzo made his way up the stairs.

  “What’s the matter? I told you to come over here and sit down. You wouldn’t want me to get nervous, and accidently pull this trigger, now would you?”

  John, a.k.a. Skeeter Amara cocked back the hammer on the gun. I put my hands out in front of me, and slowly walked to the chair and sat across from him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Farmer. Isn’t that better? There’s no reason why we can’t sit and talk like two rational adults.” Skeeter kept his gun pointed at me.

  “I guess not,” I replied as I tried to mask my disgust for the man. “What are you doing here, Skeeter?”

  “You know, I don’t believe we have ever met face-to-face.”