“I'm afraid I am not,” Weindahl said. “Apparently these sympathizers have managed to convince the Reapers to protect them. The two groups have combined forces to take over almost the entire area surrounding Rehoboth Beach.”
“So everywhere else the Reapers are killing humans left and right. And you’re telling me that this one group of people have managed to tame them somehow. What the hell do they have? A magic bell that they ring?”
“We’re not sure,” Weindahl said. “We need to look into it.”
“Perhaps it would be useful to capture some of those sympathizers and question them?”
“I’m afraid we have only the sketchiest intel on them.”
“Does this Officer Foster have a plan?”
“Sergeant Black told Abrahams there's something in the works,” Weindahl said, “but the lieutenant didn’t provide any more details in his latest briefing.”
“Well, he still is in our chain of command. So convince the good lieutenant to get us the full story. I’m tired of feeling like we’re constantly operating in the dark.”
“I’m afraid that’s pretty much status quo these days in most parts of the country, Madam President,” Weindahl said. “I will suggest to the lieutenant that he needs to determine if there’s anything he can do to help Officer Foster out of his current predicament.”
“Any update on Operation Poison Arrow?”
“It’s still in the works.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“We’re moving needed assets into place. We’re trying to identify some options to allow our soldiers to deploy the short-range missile strike safely. I believe I’ll be able to provide a more detailed update in the near future.”
“I look forward to hearing it, General,” Vickers quipped. “Now, unless you have something else to discuss, I think we can wrap up this meeting.”
“Nothing else at this time.”
“Great, meeting is over,” Vickers said. “Let me know if you have any new updates as soon as you get them.”
Chapter Sixteen
The trip back to the marina had been surprisingly uneventful. Thanks to Walker's cautious driving, they didn’t see a single Guardian patrol or Reaper pack along the way. It was almost as if both were looking busy looking elsewhere for them. Or maybe they were busy doing something normal instead of hunting around for used armbands. In either case, Walker was happy to take the break and avoid a battle while he could. He shifted the Land Cruiser into park and turned off the ignition.
“We should have taken the Tahoe,” Sams spoke up. “This thing is burned.”
“Thought about it,” Walker answered. “But Foster and the other guys needed it for retrieving things from Gregory’s house.”
“Yeah, but we could have still lobbied for it.”
“Nah. If we’re lucky, we can swap this for something else we find. Besides, I feel better if we're the ones who have to deal with a Guardian checkpoint rather than the rest of the group.”
“You say it like you’re looking for trouble.”
“More like expecting it and hoping to be proven wrong.”
“This place is just creepy,” Sams muttered. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
Walker chuckled. “You volunteered. Remember?”
“No, I didn’t. You volunteered both of us,” Sams pointed out. “You’re almost as bad as Foster with that volunteering shit.”
“Really?”
“Almost as bad. There’s still hope for you,” Sams said. “The flatfoot is probably a lost cause.”
“Uh-huh. We just need enough armbands to help us pass the patrols,” Walker answered. “The way I see it, we got two choices. We can get them off the dead Guardians or go around robbing living ones.”
“You’re forgetting about the third choice.”
“Oh, this ought to be good,” Walker muttered.
“What’s that?”
“I said, I’m sure it’s quite good,” Walker lied.
“Of course it’s good,” Sams replied. “I thought of it.”
“You gonna share it or just brag about it?”
“Can’t I do both?”
Walker shot him a look.
“You know, you can be a real killjoy sometimes.”
“Can you get to the point before we’re too old to remember it?”
“Fine. The third choice,” Sams said. “We can just skip all this shit and sneak out of town in the middle of night instead.”
“That's a good idea. One I might have fully endorsed in the past.”
“But?”
“But we already looked for a clean exit path and couldn’t find one.”
“Except we looked during the day. It might be a lot easier at night. Especially if the Guardians are home sleeping.”
“Uh-huh. What if they aren’t?” Walker asked. “We don’t know how many people they have in their group. It could be hundreds.”
“It could be a handful, too. We did kill a good number of them at the marina.”
“Even so, it might be nice to be able to talk our way past them without having to engage in another shootout.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Sams said. “Personally, I plan on keeping my rifle handy, just in case.”
“Always,” Walker said as he brought his rifle up into a ready position. “Come on, get this over with. This isn’t exactly the highlight of my day or yours.”
“If it is, then we need to start a new day, pronto,” Sams said. He mirrored his friend’s action and began scanning for potential hostiles. He said softly, “Moving out.”
The two men slowly worked their way toward the marina. There had to be hundreds of dead Reapers and Guardians scattered everywhere with countless bullet casings mixed in between. Walker had taken care to park their vehicle far enough away that they could pull away without running over any debris on the road surface.
“Absolutely no cover here,” Sams muttered softly. “I don’t like this.”
“Can’t help it. At least it’s just a snatch and grab,” Walker replied. “We get in, grab what we need, and get out before anyone notices we’re here.”
“Speaking of grabbing, I don’t see any rides worth taking. Most of these vehicles are smaller than your wallet.”
“We have too many people and too many supplies to fit into an ordinary car,” Walker said. “Besides, most of these vehicles are damaged. Nothing says stop and ask a bunch of questions to a security checkpoint than an SUV with bullet holes in it.” He checked the area in front of him and moved forward carefully. The bodies, bullet casings, and random debris had created some very uneven terrain. With the way things had been going for them lately, he’d probably roll an ankle if he took a wrong step moving through this recent battlefield.
“See any armbands you like?” Sams said softly.
“Still looking. I’d prefer ones that aren’t covered in blood,” Walker answered in a low voice. “Less cleanup.”
“I can’t believe we didn't think to grab rubber gloves on any of our scavenging runs. I really do not like touching this stuff.”
“I’ll handle the bodies. You do overwatch.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. We’ve got some peroxide in the vehicle,” Walker said. He pulled a white plastic kitchen trash bag out of his pants pocket and began to open it carefully. “I’ll just use some of it to rinse my hands off afterwards.”
“Copy that.”
The two men shifted into a quiet rhythm. Walker worked his way through the dead Guardians, choosing the ones which appeared to have a clean armband still in place. He carefully removed each one and added them to the plastic trash bag.
Ten minutes later, Walker stood up slowly and stretched his back. “That should be enough armbands. Let’s head back to the truck.”
“Contact, ten o’clock,” Sams said. “Six Reapers. I don’t think they’ve seen us yet.”
Walker quickly scanned the area around them. The nearest cover was the marina fence. The c
hain-link structure was partially collapsed and wouldn’t offer any protection from Reaper eyesight.
“More incoming. Nine and twelve o’clock.”
Walker risked a quick look. A midsize pack was closing onto their parked vehicle’s location. There was no way he and Sams could reach it without a fight.
“Oh, shit. We’ve been spotted,” Sams shouted. He immediately took two shots, shifted his aim, and fired twice more.
“How many?” Walker asked.
“Do you want me to count or shoot?”
“Good point,” Walker admitted. He quickly scanned his field of fire. He was about to turn his attention elsewhere when three Reapers came bounding around the corner of a building. “Contact. Eleven o’clock,” he announced.
Walker heard Sams begin to engage the incoming hostiles, and he turned his attention to his own looming threat. He sighted on the closest Reaper and fired. His aim was slightly off, and he saw the monster stumble as the shot struck it in the side of its shoulder. Walker exhaled quickly and adjusted his aim. He fired a double-tap and saw one of the shots slam the Reaper in the face. The creature staggered sideways, colliding with another pack member before it collapsed dead on the ground. Walker immediately fired another double-tap at the Reaper that was still trying to untangle itself from its now-dead brethren. He was rewarded for his quick thinking as both of his shots scored a direct hit to the monster’s neck and jaw. He shifted his position and sighted on the lone remaining hostile. As he did, he saw five more Reapers bringing up the rear.
“Derrick,” Walker said. “Got more incoming.”
“Still busy,” Sams yelled back. “Can you handle it, or do I need to shoot for you, too?”
“I got it,” Walker answered back. “Just take care of your own hostiles.”
“What the hell do you think I’m doing? Ordering a pizza?”
Walker turned his attention back to the Reapers charging in his direction. The five had increased to easily two dozen, and he began rapidly firing toward the closest ones.
“Reloading,” Sams called out.
Walker shifted his aim toward Sams’ side of the street, trying to buy his friend enough time to complete his ammo change. His eyes fell on a growing horde coming from that direction, and he unleashed a torrent of lead, cutting down the lead Reaper’s legs. There was an immediate Reaper pileup as the still-charging monsters slammed into the back of the temporarily hobbled ones.
“Back online,” Sams yelled.
Walker turned his attention back to his lane and continued firing. He wasn’t sure how close he was to emptying his magazine, and he didn’t want to run out of bullets at the wrong time. He decided to do a quick combat swap and keep track of his shots with the new magazine.
“Changing,” Walker said. “Cover me.” He began to execute a combat swap.
“What the hell?” Sams yelled. “You could have told me you had a shit ton of Reapers on your side.”
Walker pulled the charging handle on his rifle and began firing again. “Back online,” he said calmly.
“We’re sitting ducks,” Sams yelled. “We need to get out of here.”
Walker risked a look to his right. Bingo. There was another street approximately three hundred yards away. A strip of retail stores lined the one side of the road.
“Two o’clock,” Walker yelled back. “Group of stores. If we can get in one of them, we can use it as a bottleneck.”
“And shoot them as they try to get through a door,” Sams said. “It’ll be nice not having to worry about getting attacked from all sides.”
“We get inside, scoot out the back of the building, and double back for the vehicle.”
“That doesn’t completely suck,” Sams said. “As long as neither one of us runs out of ammo.”
“Then move your ass already,” Walker said. “And keep shooting.”
The two men moved as one, moving and shooting as they worked their way toward the retail store strip. There were two different spots where new debris forced them to change direction and attempt to thread the proverbial needle between their attackers and getting cornered.
“Changing,” Sams yelled.
“Covering,” Walker answered.
“Back online. Last magazine left.”
“I got three. Conserve your ammo, if you can.”
There was an immediate decrease in firing as Sams shifted from firing three short bursts to selecting his targets. Walker scanned the battlefield in front of them as he continued to backtrack. He wasn’t sure where the hell all of these Reapers were coming from. But it didn’t matter. The two of them didn’t have nearly enough bullets to kill all of the monsters.
Chapter Seventeen
“This is unacceptable,” Ezekiel said as he paced back and forth. “How hard can it be to find one man?”
He studied the group of men in front of him. Every single one of them was looking anywhere but at him. Well, except for Silas. The man was staring back at him with absolutely no sign of emotion registering. Ezekiel felt a chill run down his spine. The man was crazy. But his craziness was still useful to him. Even so, the Guardian leader staring that way at him was a bit unnerving. Ezekiel quickly looked away.
“But all I hear are excuses,” Ezekiel continued. “You need to find Foster and his gang. These thugs are a danger to our community. A threat to our way of life. I don’t care what you have to do to find them. I don’t want to know what you do to end this threat, either.”
“It’s a lot of area to search,” one of the Guardians stammered. “We need more people.”
“Then find them,” Ezekiel countered. “Ask for volunteers to join.”
“It’s not that easy,” Silas said slowly. “It takes a certain kind of man to be a Guardian.”
“What does that mean?”
“No cowards,” Silas answered. “Knowing how to use a gun or weapon can be valuable, too.”
“I’m sure you can find people who fit your needs. Start grassroots level.”
Silas stared at him blankly.
“Ask your existing men to recommend someone,” Ezekiel said. He tried to keep his voice from sounding as impatient as he felt. “Start with the candidates who are recommended the most and go from there.”
“And if it’s not enough?” Silas challenged. “What are you prepared to authorize? Maybe it’s time to consider conscription.”
“No, that’s too drastic.”
“If you say so.”
“Yes, I do. I’ll make an announcement at the next congregational address. But like you said, you don’t just want people who can fog a mirror. They have to have a specific skill set.”
“Okay, we’ll do that for now.” Silas nodded. “But you might want to start working on your ‘it’s time for a draft’ speech in the meantime.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Ezekiel said. “My words have never failed me. It’s other people that have let me down again and again.”
“Don’t worry,” Silas said. “We’ll find Foster and drag his sorry ass back here.”
“Good. I look forward to seeing him cowering in front of me,” Ezekiel answered. “All of you are dismissed.” He watched as the men moved as one toward the door, with Silas being the last one to leave. As the door closed, Ezekiel let out the breath he had been holding. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something creepy about Silas. But right now, Ezekiel needed him to run the Guardians. And that meant he needed to keep his worries to himself.
Silas waited until he closed the door behind him to speak.
“Boys, hold up a minute,” he said. “I got something I wanna add to what the ol’ preacher said.”
The men stopped and looked at him expectedly.
“He’s right. We need to find this guy Foster.”
“We need more men,” one of the Guardians mumbled. He quickly added, “Sir.”
“Yeah, we do. And we’ll get them. But we need something a bit more. Information. Put the word out. I’ll give anyone who g
ives me a solid lead on Foster’s whereabouts an extra day’s worth of meals. Or a bottle of booze from his private stash.” He motioned toward Ezekiel’s still-closed office door.
“How are you going to get him to share his liquor?” one of the Guardians demanded. “He protects his stash like it’s made out of gold.”
“Let me worry about that,” Silas said. “The sooner we find Foster, the better for all of us.”
Chapter Eighteen
Walker had lost all sense of time. When you were in the middle of a firefight, you had far more important things to worry about. Like not dying.
They had been shooting and retreating one step at a time. Dozens of Reapers lay dead or dying everywhere, but the monsters were still coming at them. It was getting darker, and soon they would lose what remained of the natural sunlight. Once that happened, the odds would shift dramatically in favor of the Reapers.
He heard Sams shouting, and that snapped him back to the present moment.
“What?” Walker asked.
“I said, I’m switching to pistol,” Sams shouted. “Is this the store?”
“Yeah. Get that door open,” Walker answered. “I’ll cover you.”
Sams took a step back and then slammed his foot against the door jamb. There was a loud crack as the wood gave way and the door slammed open.
“I’m in.” Sams darted inside, scanning for any viable threats as he proceeded forward.
Walker followed his friend immediately, firing as he moved. A pair of Reapers leapt toward him, and he scrambled backwards to get out of their path. The monsters slammed into the door frame and landed hard into the doorway. Walker immediately fired a single shot into one Reaper’s head and then shot the second creature in the ear before it could attempt to get back to its feet.
“Get the door,” Sams yelled.
Walker grabbed the door and began pushing it shut. The door stopped short of latching, and a moment later there was something else pushing back.
“Derrick,” he called out. “Hurry.”
There was a loud crash behind him, and then he saw Sams was pushing a small desk toward him. He stole a glance and saw they were in some type of office furniture store. Walker waited until his friend had almost pushed the furniture into him before he moved out of the way. The desk slid against the door, and there was an immediate counter-push from the Reapers outside.
The Wretched Series | Book 4 | Wretched Aftermath Page 9