GREED Box Set (Books 1-4)

by John W. Mefford

  “I wish I could say something really creative, but to me, this boy seemed liked a creature in the wilderness trying to blend in with its surroundings by not moving, not staring at the casket.” Hector's words drew Brandon's focus from the computer screen and I was intrigued. “You know what I'm saying? It's almost like he was a snake, sitting, waiting, emotionless, but then someone changed the setting and he wasn't blending in anymore.”

  Brandon sat back in his chair. I leaned against the wall. Hector's analysis of this photograph was riveting. Eerily accurate. Neither of us said a word for twenty seconds. I looked back at Brandon, but noticed out of the corner of my eye that Rose and Andi had stopped by the doorway.

  “Do we know who this kid is?” I pointed to the picture in question, not wanting to imply anything beyond the question.

  Brandon opened his mouth, but Andi jumped in first.

  “Name is Zachary Taylor, son of William and Penelope Taylor,” said the enthusiastic yet thorough intern.

  “I think I recall seeing him myself,” I said. “I know William. I used to work with his oldest son, Harrison. But I believe I saw Zachary and his parents leaving the service.”

  Brandon and I exchanged knowing glances. Whether it's because we had mixed company, or that we both knew our thoughts were premature, neither of us said another word on what might be mulling in our minds. Still, my intuition told me to keep the radar up when talking about the Taylor clan.

  Chapter Twenty

  Zachary had experienced enough drama this week. He wanted to turn the corner and purge his memory of all the doom and gloom. It was only Thursday, but having hung around enough college kids in the last year, he knew that the hardcore partiers kicked off the weekend on Thursday nights.

  Finding a buddy to hang out with was at times problematic, mostly because they weren't in the same college-party mindset as Zachary, or because their parents kept a tighter rein on them. He typically hung out with some of his teammates from the football team, but it was off-season now, and they weren't as tight, some playing other sports, others taking the off-season program seriously.

  Zachary showed up to the workouts only on a rare occasion. He skipped most of them, providing one feeble excuse after another. The coaches knew most of the explanations were lies, or at least massive embellishments. But what could they say? Zachary's parents had contributed money to build the new workout facility and were on the board of the booster club. Plus, Zachary had some natural talent. As a hundred-eighty-pound, speedy free safety, Zachary had made the private school All-District team this past season. But the coaches noticed his play drop off toward the end of the season, and it appeared he couldn't keep his weight up. Still, no one said anything.

  “Hey, Thomas, pull some of that weed out of my glove box.” Zachary veered onto the entrance ramp and started heading south on Highway 75.

  Thomas had been on the football team through his sophomore year, but had been kicked off when the coaches found him smoking marijuana in the weight room. They'd also found a baggie of white powder in his jeans pocket, but never followed through to determine if it was powdered sugar, as Thomas had claimed.

  “Don't you have any better shit than a few joints?” said Thomas, who smoked pot like they were filtered cigarettes.

  “Dude, that's what this night is all about. One big party. And it starts with a little road trip down to where we pick up some new shit.” Zachary pumped his fist.

  “We going to that place we went last time over Christmas break?” Thomas asked.

  “Yeah, man. Good memory. You still got it, man. Who says pot kills brain cells?” Zachary slapped the steering wheel of his six-month-old, black Cadillac Escalade, hollering as if he needed a jolt of energy to initiate the mobile party.

  Thomas rolled a massive joint. Zachary was giddy, jumping up and down in his seat like a baby who hadn't been fed in two days.

  “That's a piece of work there, motherfucker,” Zachary said, almost salivating, taking it from his friend.

  “Hold on, let me get a shot of this.” Thomas took a picture of Zachary holding the joint up to his lips, purposely kissing it. “I just posted it on Facebook. Awesome.”

  By the time they'd driven another thirty minutes, down into the underbelly of Dallas, they had finished smoking the enormous joint.

  “Yeah, tonight we're going to skip the bow-head sorority parties. Even though they sometimes have some good shit...playing games with all of them, having to act like it's a big deal to hang out with them. They don't know shit. Of course, when I want to get laid, I just need a blond bow-head and some white powder.”

  They smacked hands and laughed outrageously, thinking they knew how to outsmart the rest of the free world.

  Zachary pulled off the highway and headed east on the side roads. The houses started to look more run down. Clusters of people gathered on street corners. Some intersections had street lamps, others had been shot out. On those dark corners, the only light came from a match or lighter piercing the darkness like lightning bugs in the middle of a summer night.

  The black Escalade turned into a narrow, pebble-covered, front driveway. Despite its dark tone, the vehicle, with its custom rims and tinted windows, stood out on the dimly lit street. Weeds dotted the barren landscape in the front yard. A lone bush with discolored green leaves sat to the right of the front door. All windows appeared to be covered with dark blankets or sheets. One of the window panes was smashed. A gutter hung off the sagging roof.

  “Hey, Thomas. Ger may not remember you. I've been here a lot, so let me do the talkin'.” Thomas nodded, but didn't say a word in response.

  After a couple of knocks, a door opened on the other side of the screen door. It was dark inside. Slowly, Ger's face appeared. It was scraggily, with a scar under his right eye.

  “Hey, Zach, my man. Haven't seen you in what, a couple of weeks?” Ger looked left and right, around the two boys.

  He opened the door, and the boys walked in, stopping when they noticed two junkies huddled together on the couch, leaning over the coffee table.

  “Hey guys, watch the furniture.” Ger ran over to his kitchen table and grabbed some newspaper to put under their drug paraphernalia on the coffee table. The two junkies initially had a surprised look on their faces, but neither said a word. They were too focused on conjuring up their latest poison.

  “Same package as last time?” Ger shot a quick glance back down at his clients sharing their product.

  Ger, whose given name was Gerald, went to a back room, leaving Zachary and Thomas alone with the junkies.

  “What you looking at, boy?” asked the man with a faint, gray beard and huge bags under his eyes.

  “Nothing, it just looks like you got hold of some good stuff. I'm envious,” Thomas said with wide eyes.

  The man ignored him and went back to his business. Ger returned with two grocery bags.

  “Hey, Zachary, I almost forgot to tell you, man, prices have gone up,” he said. “Supply has dried up a bit.”

  Zachary hardly noticed. He unrolled a large number of hundred dollar bills and started counting.

  “That good enough?”

  “Sure, that will work. Do you want to test the product?”

  “Oh, yeah. I don't want to take this shit while I'm driving. That would be dangerous,” Zachary said, drawing laughter from Thomas and Ger.

  Minutes later, with their arms tied off, Zachary and Thomas both had syringes in their hands. They looked like two kids about ready to dig into in their first-ever banana split.

  “At the same time...ready?” Zachary asked his buddy.

  They both injected the toxic mixture.

  “You don't get any better, any more pure of a high than what you boys are taking,” Ger assured them.

  The boys couldn't comprehend what he was saying. The room began to spin. Voices were calling out; some were their own, and others might have been imaginary.

  An hour passed, and neither could tell if what they saw or heard
was fact or fiction. Zachary, feeling a bit more coherent, opened his eyes, and heard a loud knock on the front door. He looked around. No one else was in the room, other than himself and Thomas.

  “What the hell you doin', faggot?” Zachary slapped Thomas on the knee. Thomas' pants and underwear were pulled down to his ankles.

  Thomas wiped his eyes, then realized he was exposed, and tried to pull up his pants just as another knock came from the door.

  “Hey, asshole. I know you're in there. Don't make us come in there after you,” said a husky voice.

  Ger nervously entered the front room with a panicked look on his face, surprised to still see the two teens. Thomas labored at trying to pull up his pants.

  Ger hesitated, not sure which direction to turn.

  “Open this fuckin' door now!” yelled the voice on the other side of the front door.

  Zachary looked again at Ger, hoping he'd be able to diffuse the situation. Ger ran toward the closet and started rummaging through it, throwing out all sorts of garbage.

  Without warning, a huge blast exploded through the door, knocking the boys off their feet, and shooting deadly wood splinters through the air. Smoke and dust consumed the house. Zachary clinched both ears. He mostly heard ringing. With no light in the room, the boys ran into each other, then stumbled over scattered furniture, clamoring to get to the back of the house, looking for any way to escape.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Where's the fuckin' door in this place?” Zachary yelled out as he and Thomas both frantically, blindly, felt for a sliding glass door, a window, any opening to flee the heart-pounding violence.

  A flash and another gut-twisting blast. Their heads jerked back. Zachary's heart exploded with a fear so real, panic consumed his body.

  “Here, Zachary, I found a window.” Thomas fumbled with the locks. He thought he'd unlocked the window and used every fiber of muscle to pull up, but it wouldn't budge. It must have been sealed shut.

  “Shit, this damn window won't move.” Thomas grunted from the strain.

  “Stand back!” Zachary took a wooden chair that he'd stumbled over and slung it at the window, shattering the glass. Thomas climbed up and over. Zachary paused just for a second. He heard screaming, fighting, things being thrown.

  “Come on, man!” Thomas yelled from the other side of the window. Zachary jumped up to the window sill and slithered out to the back yard. A half moon provided a smidge of light above the trees, but they couldn't see a thing at ground level.

  “Hold on...do you hear that?” Zachary turned his head.

  It was the sound of a jingling dog collar approaching the pair from the left side, and it was getting closer. The two boys raced to the right, hoping to find a fence. Their eyes began to adjust, and Zachary spotted a metal fence about ten feet in front of him. With his heart pumping, his natural athleticism instinctively took over, and he vaulted over the fence with two quick steps. As he landed, he heard loud growls. Thomas wasn't nearly as fast or as athletic.

  “Come on, man, you can make it.” Zachary, letting out quick breaths, still couldn't see the dog.

  Thomas made a similar leaping attempt at the fence, but got caught with one foot in the chain-link fence. Trying to pry it loose, the dog caught him from behind and chomped down on his calf.

  “Ahhh!” Thomas screamed.

  Zachary could see the burly, pissed-off Rottweiler. Thomas tried to kick the dog away with his other leg while he held on to the top of the fence. He was screaming at the same time, sounding more desperate as the dog's jaws buried deep into his flesh and muscle.

  “Come on, Thomas. Kick the shit out of him!”

  Zachary frantically looked around for a stick, something to beat the dog away. He nearly ran into a car in the middle of the yard he was in. It was up on blocks, with two of its tires missing. He spotted a tire jack in the grass. He grabbed it and raced back to the fence. The beast had pulled Thomas farther down from the fence. It was obvious his drug-induced body had little strength to fight back.

  Zachary jumped to the top of the fence, reached down the other side, and cracked the metal pole on top of the dog's head. The dog didn't let go. With all of his energy, Zachary struck the dog twice more. It finally released his friend. Thomas, bleeding profusely down the leg of his ripped jeans, tried to climb up the fence. Zachary helped, but both were losing their energy. Their arms and chests scraped across the rusted metal, tearing their shirts, creating deep wounds that began to ooze with blood. They finally lay on the grass on the safe side of the fence for a moment.

  “My fuckin' leg, it's killing me.” Thomas reached for his leg then put his hands over his face.

  Zachary stared at the starry sky and mentally paused to take everything in. He couldn't believe what he'd experienced. He could still feel his heart beating out of his chest. He wondered if the combination of the drugs and the rush of the incident would cause him to have a heart attack at age seventeen.

  “Dude, we can't do anything about it here,” said Zachary, who began to pull himself up. “We've got to get to our car and get the hell out of this war zone.”

  Thomas got to one knee, and then put pressure on his ailing leg.

  “Shit, dude, I'm not sure I can walk on this.” Thomas' face wore a pained look.

  Zachary pondered his alternatives. He questioned if he should just leave Thomas and save himself. He wondered if that thought was a result of the drugs flowing through his veins.

  “Come on, man, hold on to me.” Zachary hooked arms with his drug buddy.

  They slowly made their way to the edge of Ger's neighbor's house. Amazingly, amidst the gunfire and screaming, they saw no one outside. They kneeled next to an overgrown bush near the far corner of the neighbor's front yard. They could see Zachary's SUV, but a two-door sedan was parked right behind it.

  “Shit!” Zachary pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand. “We're blocked from getting out of the driveway, man. We'll never get out of here.”

  Zachary turned back around and found Thomas on his back, writhing in pain from the dog wound on his lower left leg. He realized that simply walking away from the scene wasn't an option, at least not if Thomas was going with him.

  “Man, what are we going to do, Zachary? Those freaks will find us if we just sit here, man. We're fuckin' sittin' ducks.” Thomas began to cry.

  Zachary could see his buddy's pain, but he'd also begun to feel the effects of the night, with sharp stings coming from his torso, his hand and arms. He actually felt a rush of emotion...possibly from the drugs, but also from the realization that his life lay in the balance while drugged-out lunatics were battling it out only yards away.

  He gripped both sides of his head and thought momentarily about his mom and dad, and even his older brother, Harrison. He could envision some of their enjoyable family vacations, down at the beach, frolicking in the waves, flying kites in the wind, and building sandcastles that would wash away before they could finish them. He must have been nine, maybe ten years old. He had changed so much during the last seven years. He had let his parents down so many times, in so many ways—his dad in particular. With such high expectations from his parents and their crowd, it seemed he was destined to fail every test. Strangely, though, there was always some excuse, his own or one made up for him, to justify the failure. He was, after all, a member of the elite Taylor family.

  Part of Zachary just wanted to give up, throw in the towel. Maybe he'd just walk out into the yard and yell for the gun-toting crazies to come out. He'd yell obscenities at them, and they'd shoot him. Dead. The pain, the failure, the guilt, would finally go away.

  He glanced at Thomas, who was still suffering. His wound looked grotesque. Coated blood stuck to his jeans.

  “Dude, I'm going to make a run for the car.”

  “Zachary, please, man, I beg you, don't leave me here. I can't walk. They're just going to kill me, man.” Tears now streamed down Thomas' red face.

  “Thomas, dude, I'm going
to jump in the Escalade, turn it on, and back it up across the yards. Then you should be able to jump in, and we're off. Okay?”

  “Yeah, man, sounds cool. Let me get myself up on one leg, so I can be ready.”

  Zachary stood up, but his legs felt like wet noodles. The adrenaline he'd used escaping the initial blast and dog attack had drained from his body. He breathed deeply once, then again. He shook his arms and legs, trying to move more blood through his extremities.

  “Okay, man, here I go.”

  Zachary ran swiftly, low to the ground, keeping the sound of his shoes as soft as possible. As he got closer, he heard no noise coming from inside Ger's house, but he did notice, through the screen door, a gaping, jagged hole in the wooden front door. It still appeared mostly dark inside. His shoes hit the gravel, causing him to grit his teeth, but he kept moving. He climbed in the front driver's seat. He paused for a moment before turning the key, listening, hoping no one had heard him. For the first time he could remember, maybe since he was in elementary school, he said a quick prayer, hoping that he'd not been forgotten by the Man above. He wanted to pledge that he'd never use drugs again, but he knew that would be an empty promise.

  He turned the ignition key, quickly shifted the car in drive, and turned the vehicle to the left. Then he switched the gear to reverse. The tires bit the gravel as the SUV slowly rolled backward. His eyes glanced in the rearview mirror then quickly locked in on the screen door. He was beginning to cross into the neighbor's yard when the screen door started to move. He slammed his foot on the gas, the engine roared, and tires spit up dirt and rocks. Someone came out of the house, but Zachary focused on getting to Thomas.

  “Get in, quick!” Zachary glanced up and saw a man walking toward the vehicle, shouting.

  Thomas had a difficult time pulling his weight up to the level of the seat. Zachary reached across the front cab, grabbed his friend's collar, and starting pulling. He quickly raised his head to peek at the approaching man, who was holding something in his hand. With Thomas climbing into the seat, an image darted through Zachary's mind, and he froze.