Rise Of The Necrotics
Bradford Bates
Copyright © 2018 by Bradford Bates
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Also by Bradford Bates
Chapter One
Max Meridious
It wasn’t every day your employer ponied up something as lavish as a single courtside ticket for your hometown team. It wasn’t something that was easy to find right now, not at the beginning of a season that held so much promise. The Phoenix Suns had used their first number one draft pick ever to pick a player that might dominate the NBA for a decade. It didn’t hurt that said player attended my alma mater a hundred miles south of where he’s playing now.
I watched in silent fascination as he leaped into the air catching a ball in his left hand as it sailed off the rim, and then brought his right hand up just in time to ward off a defender and slam it home. Once in a generation, the next King James. People were saying a lot of crazy things, but I didn’t believe anyone. Our new guy was his own monster, and he’d dominate in an entirely new way.
The arena floor almost seemed to vibrate as everyone stood as one and roared at the display of freak athleticism most could only dream of. A quick glance back over my shoulder showed all the smiling faces, and I wondered if they were all thinking the same thing I was? How’d we get so damned lucky?
That feeling stayed with me the whole first quarter and then was reinforced right before halftime. Our new number one chased down a guard from behind and swatted away what should have been an easy layup. The arena erupted in applause, and I slid out of my seat and headed for the bathroom. It was already going to be hell getting back here in time for the start of the third quarter, but it was worth it to see that last play.
The three tall beers I put down weren’t doing me any favors as I scrambled through the crowds. At least the arena had TVs everywhere. If I was a little late getting back to my seat, I wouldn’t miss any of the action.
The crowded walkway reminded me of the dusty desert streets I’d just left behind me in Egypt. I had to remind myself that I wasn’t on a mission, this wasn’t enemy territory. This arena might as well have been in my old backyard. Phoenix was my city, and I was determined not to feel uncomfortable here. Maybe the company shrink was right, and I should take that vacation after all.
Working for the Hilltop Initiative came with a lot of perks, tonight’s ticket not being the most expensive bonus he’d ever received, but it might be the best one. The work also came with a lot of baggage. It wasn’t easy to get shot at on a weekly basis, and the first time you kill someone is rough even when it’s in self-defense. It’d been five years since I fired that shot, and I could still see the man’s face when I closed my eyes.
There had been other deaths at my hands since then, hazard of the job, but I didn’t see any of them. Something about pulling the trigger that day changed me forever, and there was no going back to who I was before. Not that I’d ever want to be him again.
I used to be fat, like really fat. I told myself it wasn’t a big deal, and I contented myself with every nerdy thing I could find while burying myself in video games so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. I wasn’t exactly a loser, I had a bunch of friends online, and was pretty well respected in the gaming community, but I always wanted more. There was just a part of me that always hoped I’d become the guy in the stories. The kid who found his superpower.
Turns out all I had to do was get hit by a car. Not that the incident gave me superpowers, but I was in a coma for three months and let me tell you that might be the best diet I was ever on. When I woke up I was determined to do things differently. Oh, I still gamed my ass off, and relished in anything counter-culture I could get my hands on. That didn’t mean I had to be fat while doing it.
Going back to college the next year had been tough. Sure, I’d been expecting some blowback. Not everyone in college has made the leap up the gene pool yet, but everyone was pretty kind. Most of the kids I knew were up a class now so we didn’t run into each other as much as we used to. It made the transition back a little easier to bear.
One night I was walking back to my car, and I felt a twist in my gut. I dropped down to one knee behind a car, not sure what was about to happen, but knowing something didn’t feel right. Bullets tore into the car and the group of students I’d been walking with. I was the lone survivor. The story made the paper, and two weeks later I got a call from the Hilltop. From there, my life changed in ways I still couldn’t understand.
I waited until the man in front of me opened the bathroom door and then tapped it with my foot on the way out so I didn’t have to touch it with my hands. Bathroom door handles were the dirtiest, and I kind of had a thing about not touching them. There was a certain level of gross I was ok with, and public restroom door handles crossed the line.
Free of the bathroom, I headed back to my seat. I’d be able to order another beer from there. One of the many perks of being courtside was you didn’t have to get up for anything except the bathroom. I was a few steps away from the court when the phone on my hip vibrated.
My gut dropped at the buzzing sound drifting up from my hip. No, it wasn’t that I was worried everyone one would think I was a loser for having a phone on my hip like a cop or a politician, it was simply that the call signaled that my night of revelry was over. Only a few people had this line, and none of them would be calling if we didn’t have a job to do. Fuck, couldn’t the bad guys take a night off every now and again?
The Phoenix Suns jogged onto the court and started warming up for the second half as I pulled my phone free from the case on my hip. “What?” Probably not the way I should be addressing my employer, but I was pissed.
“Is that any way to speak to your partner?” Garfield chided.
“It is when he’s calling at halftime.”
“Hey, it’s not like I wasn’t out enjoying myself when I got the call to come pick your worthless ass up.”
“Yeah, but you were probably at the range or blowing stuff up out in the desert somewhere, I’m at a game. You know, doing the thing Karen the psychologist said I should do.” Throwing out the doc’s name wouldn’t save me. If there was a job to do it was all hands on deck until it was over.
“There’ll be other games,” Garfield intoned as if he were explaining the facts of life to a child and not a man that was almost thirty. “I thought you’d be more interested in catching the bad guys, especially when they’re operating in your own backyard. You’ve got family here don’t you, Max?”
That was a low blow. Of course I didn’t want anything to happen here. If Phoenix turned into a crater in the earth, then everyone I knew and loved would be gone. Considering such an event wasn’t likely, and I was damned sure the world would keep spinning long enough for me to watch the end of the game. “My family would understand. Trust me, a giant mushroom cloud of death creeping our way wouldn’t deter my father from watching this game. Not with the seat I have tonight.�
�
“Well, then it’s a good thing your dad isn’t in charge of your schedule and I am. I expect you outside in five.”
The line went dead, and I stood there staring at my phone in disbelief. Maybe if I stared at it for just a few more seconds, the call would vanish from my history, and I’d realize it was all just a nightmare. I started walking toward the exit and slapped my ticket against the chest of a man wearing the jersey of our number one pick.
“Enjoy it.” It wouldn’t be long now until the man realized what I’d given him. Right now he was probably pissed some stranger slapped trash against his chest, but in a minute...
“Holy shit!”
And there it was, he had the golden ticket. I slipped into the crowd so he couldn’t see me and headed for the door. At least someone would get to enjoy the game. Sometimes I wondered if this job was worth it. It was hard being in a new city every week, but on the plus side, I didn’t have to see my parents often. Once a year was enough, especially if crazy drunken Uncle Louie showed up.
Sometimes I envied close families. There was a magic there I just didn’t understand. Maybe it was just me, an only child, born into a latchkey generation, but I always enjoyed being alone. Both my parents worked, we didn’t have any close family in town, and that was it. I always wondered how things worked in a robust household full of life, and at the same time I was completely content with how I spent my teenage years.
Master Sergeant Gordon Garfield was waiting for me just outside of the doors to the arena. We made an odd pair. I was a five foot eight with a wide frame, while Garfield was six foot four and covered from head to toe in long lean muscle. He kind of reminded me of the Doctore in Spartacus, although he was a little younger. Also despite his lack of military attire, you could tell he was in the service from a mile away. There was just a certain way military guys stood, even when they relaxed.
On the other hand, I liked to think that I stood out in a military setting and fit right in here. Frankly, being in a room full of alpha males with guns wasn’t my thing, but I did it on a weekly basis. It helped that they all looked at me like their spastic kid brother, and I knew if I was ever up shit creek, every one of them would die trying to get me out.
People walking by looked up at my partner, probably wondering if he was a basketball player, before moving on. I had to look up at him too, bastard almost had a foot on me, and those thick rubber soled boots he had on gave him an extra inch. It wasn’t like I was jealous or anything, I mean I could dunk too, almost.
Garfield held out his hand as I approached him. He had a warm smile and was happy to see me. I was sure the look on my face was probably the exact opposite. I was still feeling more than a little bitter about missing the end of the game.
“Sorry about the game,” Garfield said, still beaming from ear to ear.
“Asshole,” I said with a laugh. He wasn’t sorry. What we were about to do next is what got Gordon Garfield out of bed in the morning.
The former master sergeant put an arm around my shoulders and turned, steering me toward a black Escalade. “How long have you been with the Hilltop Initiative, Max? Just a little over five years isn’t it? You ever wonder why you haven’t been promoted out of this rat race?”
“Because I can’t keep my mouth shut and I have a complete and total disregard for authority figures?” I smiled over at my partner and shrugged. “I always thought they just kept me around for that little twist I get in my gut.”
“Well, the first thing is why you don’t get paid more, and the second is why you still have a job.” Garfield’s hand tightened on my shoulder. “And you know I’m stuck with you, right? I mean someday soon I’d like to stop dodging bullets trying to protect your ass.”
Garfield opened the door for me, and I climbed into the back of the Escalade. As soon as I was seated, my partner climbed in and tossed me my go bag from the floor. The SUV pulled away, and just like that we were working. If the Suns lost because I left, I was going to be so pissed.
I pulled out a black tee and my vest, along with a pair of jeans. I didn’t see my boots anywhere so sneakers were going to have to cut it. I slipped into the jeans and shirt and started going over the gear on my vest. “You know, if you weren’t out here with me, you’d just be dropping into some other shit storm. At least with me you know when the bullets are coming.”
Garfield gave me a look that would have frozen water. “For a man that doesn’t believe he has abilities, you sound real confident.”
“What can I say, I’m never wrong.” It was true, but I was still terrified that one day it would stop working and one of my friends would end up dead.
“Just finish getting your gear ready while I fill you in on tonight’s job.” Garfield pulled out a Samsung tablet and started transferring images to the extra large screens built into the back of the seats.
I looked over the data while tucking a few pairs of flex cuffs into one of my pockets. You could never have enough of those things, and they didn’t weigh nearly as much as traditional handcuffs. With my gear ready to go, I slipped into my vest before strapping the holster onto my thigh.
“Why do you insist on wearing that thing? You realize the Hilltop is an undercover initiative, right? We have to display tactical finesse while achieving our goals.”
“Just because I look cooler than you doesn’t mean you have to get all butt hurt.”
“Cooler like people walking by wonder why the hell you have a bulletproof vest on and a gun strapped to your thigh?”
“Just tell them I’m a space cowboy,” I said with a smile. Eat your heart out Malcolm Reynolds.
“Space cadet is more like it,” Garfield quipped.
“Holy fuck, did you just make a joke?” I smiled, unable to help myself. My partner wasn’t exactly a stick in the mud, but he wasn’t exactly jovial either. Jokes were a rare thing and deserved to be celebrated.
Sure, the thigh holster was a little out of place for undercover work. I would have been better off going with an under the shoulder holster like my partner used, or even tucking the barrel into the waistband of my jeans, but I liked the way this felt. When shit hit the fan, it was always better to rely on muscle memory. Out of habit, my hand always reached for the holster on my thigh, if my gun were anywhere else I’d be lost.
“Just listen up and nod along like you’re actually paying attention.” Garfield pointed at the screen, and a picture of a squat one-story stone house came up on it. Next to it was a map of a central Phoenix neighborhood. “This is our target. We’re not sure what they’re hiding, but our contacts are picking up enough chatter to justify us going in.”
I looked away from the screen and grabbed my Desert Eagle from the center console. The gun was just the way I left it. I popped the clip just to double check, and then slid it back in place before holstering the weapon. “Anything besides the snitches to go on?”
Garfield sighed. “Our intelligence network isn’t based on a bunch of snitches. That being said, we’ve had real-time satellite coverage on the property for the last five days. No one has come in or out during that time, which we found a little strange.”
“So I’m not the only one with intuition around here. What’s our back up situation look like?” I asked as I slid my Smith and Wesson collapsible baton into place on my other hip. All I had to do now was find a knife.
“Two teams three minutes out. They’ll be ready to storm the castle on my call. Before we call in the cavalry, I thought we could take a sneak peek and see if your spidey senses pick anything up.”
“Jesus, I’m not Spiderman, I just get these feelings sometimes.” It was my fault for getting cocky earlier. Now he wasn’t going to let it go.
“Feelings that have saved our asses more than once. I don’t care what you want to call it, but you’ve got a gift.”
“Most people’s odd talents don’t require them to wear a gun and spend their evening routinely getting shot at.”
“Well tonight yours might,” G
arfield said with all seriousness. “Unknown number of hostiles, but our best guess at the moment is six or seven.”
“That’s a lot for just the two of us.” Even with my little ability, the odds weren’t in our favor.
“Well, if you get all tingly I can call in Red and Blue teams.”
This was why I hated talking about my little quirk with anyone. They all seemed to think it was something I had control over. It wasn’t. I don’t have any idea what triggers the twist in my gut. I only know when it happens to cover and pray for the best. But hey, at least the pay was good.
I watched the well-lit city streets pass by. There was a bit of dust in the air, and it smelled like rain. It would be just my luck that we’d be out on the one night it decided to rain out of the last hundred. At least we’d have some additional cover. I had a feeling we were going to need it.
It was funny, everyone was waiting for the next 9/11, but that wasn’t the real threat. What we were watching for were small cells operating in secret. Some of them weren’t even terrorists, just scientists that had gone off the reservation. You know, gene splicing, unapproved human trials, that sort of thing. If we caught wind of it, we stopped it, simple as that. The government might not be able to save you, but we could.
Chapter Two
Max Meridious
I slid on my tactical glasses as I looked at the beads of rain glancing off the moonroof. Lightning crackled across the sky and waves of thunder boomed across the valley. The summer monsoon season was over, but the fall often produced torrential downpours of their own. Not that the weather had cooled enough for it to be called fall in Arizona. It was almost a hundred degrees today, and they're already talking about snow in Chicago. Max slid on his tactical glasses just as the rain started to fall on the moonroof of the SUV.
Rise of the Necrotics (Books 1-4) Page 1
