The Death Trilogy (Book 2): The Death: Eradicate

by John W. Vance

  “Wow, remind me never to piss you off.”

  “That looks like a good rock,” Tess said. She squatted down and picked up a flat smooth gray rock. As her fingers ran over the stone, she imagined skipping it across the creek.

  Devin hadn’t stopped; he continued on. He cornered the Humvee and jumped back at what he saw. “Oh shit.” He raised his rifle, and his right thumb flipped the selector switch.

  In front of him were two feral hogs. Blood covered their faces, and they grunted as they devoured parts of a half-conscious Morgan.

  Tess jogged up when she saw Devin’s reaction.

  “Holy fuck!” she exclaimed as she pulled her Glock 17 from her shoulder holster.

  “Should we shoot them?” Devin asked.

  Tess had heard that pigs and hogs ate people, but to see it was something straight out of a horror movie. “Don’t shoot unless they charge us.”

  “Poor bastard,” Devin commented.

  “He’s had a bad day for sure,” Tess said, taking a couple steps back. “Walk back. They’re so focused on eating him they don’t know we’re here.”

  Devin slowly placed one foot behind the other. Before long he and Tess were on the opposite side of the Humvee.

  “Are we just going to let them eat him? The guy’s still alive,” Devin said.

  “He probably doesn’t feel anything because of the multiple snake bites.”

  “Tess, c’mon, stop the hardcore stuff. That’s just screwed up. We need to put the guy out of his misery,” Devin implored.

  She chewed her lip and rolled her eyes. The idea of allowing him not to suffer ran contradictory to how she felt. For her, Morgan was paying the price for the crimes her foster father had committed against her. While Morgan had pleaded innocence from molesting or raping any of the teens or children, she just didn’t believe it. Anyone who ran with such a barbaric group of people was guilty.

  “Think of something,” Devin said. He kept looking over his shoulder for fear one of the hogs might come looking for dessert and he would be on the menu.

  Tess pushed past him and opened the driver’s side rear door. She removed the seat bottom and pulled out a long black cylinder approximately six inches in length and an inch and a half in diameter. On one end was a small threaded stub.

  Devin had never seen it before and asked, “What’s that?”

  She placed her Glock in her left hand and stuck the threaded stub into the barrel and turned clockwise.

  “I got this Glock from one of those Turner Raiders back in Reed. The silencer here, well, I found that digging through the Hummer one day a couple weeks ago. Now it’s coming in handy.” She turned it till it stopped, gripped the pistol back in her right hand, and put a foot on the driver’s rear tire. With her left hand, she grabbed the long exhaust line that extended up and pulled herself on top of the Humvee.

  The hogs were still oblivious.

  Carefully she aimed and squeezed off the first shot. The hog to the left let out a grunt and fell to the ground dead. Her sights now turned to the hog on the right. Sight alignment, trigger control and squeeze. Second shot hit the pig in the top of its head; it collapsed in place.

  Devin moved around the Humvee and saw the carnage.

  Tess leaped like a superhero from the top of the Humvee, pistol still in hand.

  Morgan mumbled something neither could understand.

  Blood, flesh and guts were everywhere.

  To Devin it looked like a slaughterhouse.

  Tess leveled the pistol at Morgan’s head and squeezed the third and final shot. It hit him in the head.

  “There, happy?” Tess asked and walked away.

  “It was the decent thing to do,” he replied as he followed her back to the driver’s side.

  A few quick turns and the silencer popped off.

  “Nice to know we have one of those,” Devin remarked. “It’s louder than I thought they’d be.”

  She finished storing it and said, “I thought the same thing when I first shot it.”

  “When was that?” he asked.

  “Just then.”

  “I’d say pork was on the menu, but after seeing what’s in their diet, I think I’ll pass.”

  She turned around and tossed an MRE at him. “My exact thoughts.”

  “Never thought one of these would sound more appealing.”

  “Let’s move this. I don’t want to be smelling that later,” she said, pointing to the other side.

  They moved the Humvee closer to the small boat docks about a quarter mile away. The air quality was better but not enough to make up for the loss of concealment.

  Tess chuckled every time she watched Devin eat an MRE.

  He’d pull each packet from the tan sleeve and arrange it on the ground or table in order of how he’d eat it. On the left the entrée, snack in the middle and dessert on the right. He’d delicately pull the main entrée from the box and knead the package. With steady care he’d take his knife and cut it open horizontally. This way he could eat it easier than the traditional vertical position.

  “I think I have an idea of how we can get in and out,” Tess said, her eyes still enjoying the MRE show he was starring in.

  “And what’s the master plan?”

  “A diversion, just like Reed.”

  “I don’t know. It might have worked in Reed, but if I have to take on a flash mob of pissed-off pirates, I would say no.”

  “No one’s asking you to.”

  “I’m all ears,” he said, taking a large heaping spoonful of his meal and stuffing it in his mouth.

  “Just a few blocks east of the main gate I saw a petrochemical facility. I say we strap on a bit of C-4 and blow it. The explosion should be immense, and there’s no doubt they’ll have all eyes that way. We’ll get to the boats, cruise over, cut our way in and make for the ship, all under the cover of night.”

  “It’s better than what I had in mind.”

  “Oh yeah, what was that?”

  “Trust me, yours is better.”

  Finished with her entrée, she tossed the packet on the ground.

  “I’m going to be the devil’s advocate. Say this all works, we get on the ship with zero issues. How do you want to conduct the search?”

  “Easy, find the berthing spaces and state rooms first. If I were a dirty pirate, I’d keep my sex slaves where I sleep.”

  “I’d imagine the sleeping quarters are all in the same place.”

  “Probably not, officers will be on the high decks. I’d normally say we split up, but it’s not advisable.”

  “I agree,” Devin said, still maintaining his agreeable attitude.

  “Score,” she cheered, holding up a bag of M&Ms.

  “Oh, that, I got one too. Must be the newer cases have them.”

  Tess tore open the wrapper and poured a few of the multicolored hard-shelled candies in her hand.

  “Now I suppose we wait?” Devin asked.

  Her mouth full as she chomped away on the candies, she replied, “More time to skip rocks.”

  Denver International Airport

  Lori admired her nails; the bright red color now symbolized hope for her. Not only had she done her fingers but she painted her toes too. As she wiggled them, her memory catapulted her back to a time when she had just met David.

  He was bright, enthusiastic but lacked charm. What she liked most about him then was he was stable. Then she believed he would be going places. He had just received his master’s degree in American History, but what excited her was that a book he had written on Abraham Lincoln was selling and selling big. She imagined herself a wife of a writer, traveling, cocktail parties and the like. She had only started working in her field, and it was tough. Her creative suggestions weren’t getting the traction she had hoped, and dealing with her overbearing boss was painful. A life full of nice things, a big house and expensive car filled her dreams then, so she hitched herself to a man she loved but now realized she wasn’t passionate about. When the
books sales dropped and his second book flopped, David gave up writing and pursued a career as a teacher. For her she respected it, but it wasn’t the glamorous life. By then it was too late to reconsider. They were married, but she was also pregnant with Eric.

  Not wanting to sit and ponder the past, she stood and walked over to the row of pictures Horton had on a shelf. These were the same photographs that had piqued her curiosity and skepticism of what was really happening at the DIA and around the country. She picked each framed photo up and studied it. All the photos had one common theme; they showed Horton with the men of the Order. She looked at each man’s face in hopes of seeing the magistrate.

  The dead bolt on the front door clacked followed by the door opening.

  Feeling like a child that has been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, she almost dropped the picture as she placed it back on the shelf. Almost tripping over the coffee table, she plopped down on the couch and picked up the tablet she had been reading a book on.

  Horton walked in a moment later.

  To her, he looked a bit happier than he had when he left this morning.

  Normally he was one who hid his emotions well, but Horton didn’t mind letting her see how happy he was. “Good afternoon, evening, whatever it is.”

  “Hi.”

  “So what you been up to today?”

  “Relaxing, reading and I did my nails,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “Red, very nice. Say, I’ve got some guests coming over for dinner in an hour. I’m going to freshen up; you might want to put on something sexier.”

  “Funny, I don’t have anything here that I’d call sexy in the closet.”

  The doorbell chimed.

  “Now you do,” he said, a devilish grin on his face. Taking this as his queue, he walked into the bedroom.

  Lori made her way to the door, a bit freaked out by how well timed that was. She opened the door, and there was a man she’d never met, holding a dress she’d never seen.

  “Here you go, ma’am,” the man said, holding out the dress and a small bag.

  “What’s in there?”

  “Lingerie and shoes.”

  “Thank you,” she said and took the items. Holding them as if she was holding a dead mouse, she went to the bedroom to change.

  The dress fit perfectly. She hated to admit it, but she liked it. Standing in front of the long mirror, she turned side to side, admiring how good it looked on her. Running her hands down her hips, she turned around and craned her head back to see her butt. The pink on the soles of the shoes was the thing she loved the most; she didn’t want to walk on the hardwood floors for fear of scuffing them up.

  “The table is set. Hurry, we have special guests coming,” Horton hollered from the hall.

  She rushed out of the bedroom. The aroma of the pork loin hit her, causing her mouth to water. In the dining room, the table was set for four. In the corner Horton was standing, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The sight of the glass and its contents excited her. Is he drinking the one I poisoned? she asked herself.

  “Our guests should be arriving soon. Let’s go into the den and wait for them.”

  He took her hand and walked her into the den. No sooner had they sat down than they heard a knock on the door.

  Horton looked at his watch and said, “Looks like our special guests are early.” He jumped up and swaggered to the door.

  Lori took the time to look at herself in the hall mirror one last time.

  Horton walked back into the den, flanked by the last people she expected to see, David and Eric.

  “Lori, our guests have arrived,” Horton said and gave her a wink.

  Her knees trembled and almost buckled. “David, Eric, it’s you. You’re here?’

  “Mom,” Eric sang and ran into her arms.

  David approached her too, but allowed Eric to take his time.

  She embraced Eric tightly, kissing him on the head and face.

  David fidgeted as he waited for his turn to greet his estranged wife.

  “Get in here,” she said, insisting David just step in and create a circle of love.

  Encouraged by her insistence, he stepped forward, arms open, and embraced her.

  She cocked her head to kiss him, but he cocked his head, and her lips made contact with his cheek.

  “I was very worried about you. So glad you’re safe,” David said.

  “It’s so good to see you,” she replied. She meant that but wished it wasn’t here. Having them here complicated her mission.

  Like a voyeur, Horton stood and watched with pleasure the three get reacquainted. “So sweet, I love family reunions.”

  Lori put her eyes on his and leered.

  This look from her gave him greater pleasure, as he had struck first and hard in their battle. “Why don’t we all sit and talk at the dinner table. You can catch up there.”

  With the three sitting and chatting, Horton wheeled in a cart. The clanging glass got everyone’s attention.

  “Drink anyone?” Horton asked.

  “Yes, I’ll have one,” David said, his eyes fawning over the assortment of decanters.

  Lori felt her gut tense when she saw the decanters. Her instinct was to tell David not to drink, but that would seem alarming. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention that something might be wrong with the alcohol. So she chose to steer David. “Go ahead. I’d suggest the vodka. It’s good, and I know you love vodka martinis.”

  David raised his head, intrigued to try the vodka. Also the suggestion of a martini sounded so good to him. “Lori knows me like no one else. I’ll have a vodka martini with olives, if you have any.”

  “We do have olives, but are you a whiskey man at all?” Horton asked.

  “Years ago, but I prefer vodka.”

  Lori put her hand on David’s and said, “Ole reliable.”

  Those were the opposite words David needed to hear. He found them disrespectful and degrading coming from her. For him it was like her again telling him he was boring, and that word had come up when he first confronted her about the affair years ago. “You know, I do like to step out of the box now and then.”

  “I like a man who lives a little,” Horton said. He grasped the decanter of whiskey and held it up. “This is one of my favorites, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it too. I prefer to drink it over a handful of ice.”

  The sight of the poisoned bottle of whiskey almost sent Lori into a full-fledged panic. Her heart was pounding, and she searched for a way to prevent David from drinking it. “David, I’ve had it; it’s just okay. I’d really suggest the vodka.”

  “No, I think I’ll go with the whiskey. Sometimes I don’t want to be ‘ole reliable’.”

  Hearing the words come back at her made her cringe.

  Horton poured a glass and handed it to David. He looked at Eric and asked, “How about Eric? You want a taste?”

  “Absolutely not, he’s just a boy,” Lori exclaimed.

  “Oh, come on, I’m a man in this world,” Eric protested, sitting straighter in his chair.

  “Last I checked, you weren’t even old enough to vote,” Lori countered.

  “Vote and old enough sound like constructs of the past. Let the young man have a man’s drink,” Horton said.

  “Yeah, Eric is a man in my eyes. Plus we’re not going to get drunk here, just enjoy a cocktail,” David said.

  Feeling outnumbered but undeterred, she continued to resist Eric having a drink. She didn’t want David to drink, but how could she really stop him. Eric, on the other hand, she had a say in his upbringing. “I insist, Eric will not be drinking.”

  “This is stupid; I’m no longer a kid. If you were ever around, you’d see that!” Eric said, his face flush with anger.

  “I’m still your mother, and I say no.”

  “Mother, ha. Some mother you are,” Eric blasted her.

  Lori dug her nails into her right thigh. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She fought the urge to smack him
in the mouth and send him to his room.

  David watched the dustup and didn’t get involved. He wanted her to hear how Eric felt about her. Deep down he wanted her to feel the pain he felt; he wanted her to know what it was like to know someone you love has pulled away from you.

  “Chancellor, if I can have a little, that would be nice,” Eric said boldly in an attempt to be manly.

  Lori just shut down and didn’t know what to do; then a drastic idea came to mind. She stopped digging in her leg and placed her right hand on the steak knife. Her fingers folded around the handle and she held it firmly. If she had to die saving her son, then so be it. Frozen in place as she convinced herself that killing Horton now was the only way, a warm hand touched hers.

  Horton bent over and whispered, “This isn’t the whiskey you think it is.”

  The blood drained out of her face.

  He patted her hand and said for all to hear, “You know, this knife looks dirty. Let me get you a new one.” He unrolled her closed fist and removed the blade.

  David and Eric weren’t paying much attention as they chitchatted about the whiskey.

  Lori barely ate her salad, using her fork more for pushing around the food than eating it.

  David and Eric gushed about each bite.

  Eric had even taken a second drink, and its effects were starting to show as he became more vocal with an occasional word slurred.

  The chef appeared from the kitchen with four plates. Around the table he went placing them, starting with Lori.

  She looked at the plate, and the food looked amazing. Several slices of loin lay perfectly presented in the center with roasted Brussel sprouts at the top of the plate and a creamy polenta at the bottom. Her appetite was still absent following Horton’s admission that he was aware of her poisoning the whiskey.

  “Bon appétit, everyone,” Horton said.

  “Oh my God, this is amazing,” David raved as he took his knife, sliced another piece of loin and dipped it into the thick sauce that accompanied it.

  “This is so good,” Eric added.

  “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it. As Lori knows, my chef is one of the best,” Horton bragged.

  “Is that so?” David smirked with his mouth full, looking at Lori.