But right now it was quiet, and Walker turned his attention back to the area in front of him. He was crouched behind a trio of barrels, doing his best to not have any part of his body visible behind the metal containers. The Reapers were spreading out and it was even more important to avoid detection.
Come on, Derrick, we need that distraction already.
He wasn’t sure where Charles or Lizzy were at the moment. Hopefully with Foster.
Dammit, Nick, stay focused, he mentally scolded himself. Worrying about people who weren’t there at the moment could get the rest of them killed. Worse, it could jeopardize getting the entire group out safely to Hope Island. He turned his attention back to the hostiles in front of him.
Several Reapers were getting close to Gregory’s location. Walker shifted his position slowly, sighting on the closest monster. The Reaper looked like it was barely five feet tall, but that didn’t matter. If the creature made one move toward them, Walker would pull the trigger and blow its damn head off.
Move along, little monster. No need to die today if you don’t have to, Walker thought.
Suddenly there was a sharp noise to his left. Walker risked a glance and saw Gregory was sneezing uncontrollably into his elbow. A low growl sounded, and a pair of Reapers charged toward the still-distracted Gregory. Walker immediately open fire to protect his group mate.
Foster was hauling ass through the museum when two words stopped him in his tracks.
“Nick’s down,” Amanda shouted over the comms.
Foster felt his adrenaline immediately spike. What the hell should he do? Time was of the essence. On one hand, Amanda or Lizzy were quite capable of doing battlefield medicine. But on the other, it wasn’t fair to expect a bunch of civilians to be able to hold the landing pad secure against an unknown number of Reapers until the chopper arrived. Especially with Charles already being low on ammo.
“Do you need me to come back?” Foster asked.
A new voice came over the comms. “No,” Lizzy answered. “Reapers took some losses and then took off as soon as Charles and I arrived. We’ll help Gregory and Amanda keep the area secure in case they come back.”
“Is Nick okay?”
“Not really,” Walker answered. “A huge Reaper landed on my leg. I never saw the damn thing coming. Amanda shot it before it could bite me, but my ankle is definitely busted. Go get Derrick. We’ll be fine.”
Should he go back to help with Walker? No, he needed to trust what he was being told. The rest of the group didn’t need him right now. Foster needed to rescue Sams as soon as possible. And then the two of them needed to haul ass back to help the rest of the group before more hostiles might show up.
He ran hard until he could see the front entrance of the museum. He slowed down to half speed and cued the comms. “Derrick, I’m about two minutes out,” he said quickly. “Coming up on your six.”
“Don’t come out the front entrance,” Sams warned. There was a steady shot of gunfire in the background. “Reapers are keeping the Guardians busy, and none of them have seen me yet. If you come flying out the front, all of them will see us.”
“Understood,” Foster answered. “What do you want me to do?”
“See if you can flank them. Once you’re in position, then we can take them out in a cross-fire.”
“Copy that,” Foster answered. “Finding an alternate route.” He veered into another corridor. He wasn’t sure it would take him where he wanted to go. But he had an idea where Sams was pinned and would work his way there.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Somehow Silas had managed to extract himself from the battle and work his way in instead. He found himself in the museum area and leaned for support against several of the glass cases. He glanced at them and saw they were filled with military memorabilia. A sign on the wall said he was in the Medal of Honor hallway. He looked all around him. But he couldn’t see any of his men except for his visibly scared driver.
He didn’t know how long they had been here. He didn’t know how many men he had lost or left behind, either, which wasn’t good at all. He still hadn’t found Foster, but one thing was becoming painfully clear. The Guardians were getting their asses kicked by the combined opposing forces.
“Take point,” he ordered his driver.
“But boss, I can’t,” the man protested. “I’m almost out of ammo.”
“I’m not,” Silas answered as he brought his pistol up and pointed it at the man’s head. “And I’m telling you to take point.”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
Silas watched as his man moved in front of him. The man looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. He began to move slowly along the corridor, looking in every direction for possible attackers.
They had reached the end of the hallway when there was a loud sudden roar. A Reaper appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The monster was wearing a red cape. The creature took two quick steps and grabbed his driver by the neck.
“You,” the Reaper growled as it pointed a finger toward Silas.
Silas brought his pistol up, trying to get a target, but his driver kept squirming and blocking his aim. Silas frowned. He just needed his soldier to hold still long enough for Silas to get a clear shot at this damn showboat of a Reaper.
“You’re one of the Disciple soldiers, aren’t you?” the Reaper spoke.
“How the hell did you know that?” Silas demanded.
“The bands on your arms,” the red-caped Reaper growled. “We are allies. There are enemies here. Enemies for both of us. It’s not safe for you and your men.”
Silas watched as the Reaper released its hold on his driver. The creature gently shoved the man back toward Silas. “You need to get out of here. My soldiers will keep the enemy occupied long enough for you to escape.”
“Okay,” Silas said. He lowered his weapon and began to backpedal. If this one was truly an ally, then maybe this thing could buy him the opportunity to get away.
“Wait. What do I call you?”
“I am Haas,” the Reaper said.
“Right,” Silas replied. “Listen, there’s a really bad human here. Answers to the name Foster. He’s killed a bunch of Disciples.”
“Have you seen him?”
“No, but one of my men did,” Silas lied. “We were hunting him when those other Reapers showed up and attacked us. Foster is somewhere on this property.”
“I will find him.”
“Are you sure?” Silas asked with the best sincerity that he could fake. “I mean, we can help if you want.”
“Get out now, while you can,” Haas said. “Do not make me repeat myself.”
“Boss, I think we should leave,” the driver said, stammering. “You know, do what he says.”
“Fine,” Silas said. He reached for his walkie-talkie and pressed the transmit button. “All Guardians, fall back to the trucks and wait for me. We’re getting out of here.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Foster hadn’t gotten very far before the shit hit the proverbial fan. As the corridor curved around a corner, he entered a bigger space and heard a loud roar. As he looked toward the sound, he saw a trio of Reapers bearing down on his location and unleashed a barrage of bullets. He saw one monster go down and then felt his weapon jam. He immediately dropped it, letting the shoulder harness catch its weight, and drew his Glock. He immediately fired twice at the closest Reaper. The creature’s head snapped back, but Foster didn’t have time to admire his marksmanship because the last standing Reaper was even closer to his position. Foster fired rapidly, stitching his shots upward from the monster’s torso until several shots struck it in the throat and face. As the creature dropped, Foster noticed a new Reaper was standing back and watching the action. Foster looked it up and down. As he did, his eyes were drawn to the long red cape flowing down its back.
“You must be Fos-ter,” the Reaper spoke. “I’ve heard of you.”
“Yeah, sorry I can’t say the same about you. You got a name?” Foster ask
ed. “Or should I just call you Weasel Dick?”
The monster let out a low growl. “Achilles,” he said as he emphasized each syllable.
“Uh-huh. You got something you want to say?”
“Surrender or die.”
“Excuse me?”
“Surrender or die,” Achilles repeated.
Foster didn’t have time to tangle with this Reaper. Not when Sams might be moments from being overrun. If the Reapers didn’t kill his friend, then the Guardians might. Maybe he could convince this red-caped asshole to avoid a fight. “You do realize I’ve killed a few of your buddies, right?” he said. “If you leave now, I promise I won’t chase after you.”
The low growl sounded out. The monster began moving toward him and inadvertently bumped into a nearby exhibit. The Reaper shoved the display, launching it airborne. Foster saw it crash to the floor about fifteen feet away.
“Impressive,” Foster said. “Strong and furry.”
“We fight. Now.”
“I don’t think so,” Foster said. He brought his Glock up to a shooting position. As he did, the Reaper tucked its head and executed a forward roll. Foster felt his adrenaline spike as this Reaper surged toward him like a runaway boulder. He brought his Glock up and opened fire. But as he did, he saw several of the shots seemed to ricochet harmlessly off the back of the creature’s shoulders and upper back. At the last possible moment, Foster spun like a matador out of the way and the monster rolled past him. Foster began backpedaling to create more space between his assailant and himself.
Damn, he’s fast, Foster thought. Too fast.
Achilles popped up to its feet and turned toward Foster. The Reaper brought its hands up into a fighting posture. “Surrender or die.”
“Not happening,” Foster said. He began firing rapidly once more. The monster executed another rolling charge. Foster watched in horror as his shots sailed past the attacking Reaper a split second before he felt something slam into his sternum. The blow knocked Foster clear off his feet.
Foster felt his body flying backwards and instinctively threw his arms out to try to break his fall. His reaction wasn’t quick enough, and Foster landed hard on his back, a split second before the back of his head banged on the hard floor. He immediately felt a shot of pain. Get up! A voice in his head shouted, and Foster forced himself to stand up.
Foster felt a bit wobbly on his feet. His chest felt like he had been hit by a runaway truck. He tried to take a breath and immediately felt a jab of pain. Bruised, nothing broken.
He brought his rifle up, but the weapon didn’t feel right in his hands. Foster stole a fast glance at the rifle. The weapon was visibly damaged from the bull rush. Even if he could clear the jam before the Reaper attacked again, he wasn’t sure the weapon would even fire correctly.
Foster unslung the rifle and tossed it to the side. His upper body began to throb. Foster didn’t know if he could take another one of those rolling attacks. He retreated and moved erratically to avoid Achilles’ next attack and buy himself some more time.
Foster instinctively reached for the Glock he kept on his hip and came up empty-handed.
Where the hell was his gun?
A moment later, he realized what had happened. He had been using the weapon when Achilles knocked him over.
So where the hell was his Glock?
Foster risked a quick glance and saw his weapon lying on the floor, about halfway between the two of them. The Glock’s slide was locked back.
His gun was empty.
There was no way in hell he’d be able to grab the weapon, replace the spent magazine, and shoot Achilles before the Reaper reached him.
A low rumble emitted from Achilles. It gestured toward the gun once, as if it were mocking him.
“Fuck you, fur ball.”
The Reaper began to growl even louder and brought its clawed hands up in what might resemble a fighting posture.
“You want a fight?” Foster answered. “Okay, you got one.” He pulled out his dagger and shifted into a fighting stance.
The two combatants circled each other warily.
Foster jabbed quickly with the dagger, and Achilles easily danced out of harm’s way.
Achilles swung a wide, arching side swipe with his right hand that Foster barely managed to dodge. He swung a wide left that came nowhere close to hitting Foster and clanged loudly off a metal display near the two combatants.
Foster quickly studied his opponent. Achilles was smaller and thinner than any other red-caped Alpha he’d seen to date. But the creature was fast as hell. There was no way Foster was going to underestimate him.
Okay, reality check. He’s faster than you. He’s a fucking Reaper, so he’s probably stronger than you, too. You gotta find his weakness before he finishes you. And you gotta do it with nothing but a knife and your brains.
Achilles flexed his legs and launched into a nearly perfect spinning wheel kick. Foster barely managed to twist his head and torso out of the way in time before the Reaper’s foot connected.
Foster bounced lightly on his feet, looking for an opening and not finding an easy one. He watched as the Reaper launched into another spinning kick. This time, the monster’s foot passed close enough to Foster’s face that he felt the movement near his ear.
Achilles landed lightly on his feet, took two steps toward Foster, before launching another spinning kick that nearly connected.
Foster danced backwards, studying his opponent. He wasn’t sure, but it looked like the monster telegraphed the kick with his shoulder. He watched the Reaper stalk toward him. Achilles let out a roar and then launched another spinning kick, which Foster darted away from a bit easier.
Yep, a definite tell. He dips his shoulder before he starts his big kick, Foster thought.
“You getting dizzy yet, fur ball?” Foster challenged. “A real man would have ditched the fucking cape already.”
Achilles roared and slammed his chest twice before launching into a rolling attack.
Foster dove out of the way and came up onto his feet.
He tucks his head before he does that rolling charge. Another telegraph. I can use that, too, Foster thought to himself. He jabbed quickly with the dagger, and the creature easily moved out of harm’s way.
Achilles dipped his shoulder and began to move into another spinning kick. As the monster’s back began to turn, Foster fired a quick thrust kick. His foot connected with the Reaper’s backside, and the creature stumbled awkwardly before regaining its balance a few steps later.
Foster motioned toward Achilles to come at him again. The Reaper roared in frustration, pounding its chest once more. As it ducked its head, Foster slid one long step to his left, clearing a path for the monster to harmlessly roll past him.
“Last chance to leave this room alive,” Foster said between heaving breaths.
“Never,” Achilles growled. He dropped his shoulder and began moving into another spinning kick.
As his foe’s back began to turn, Foster swept its supporting foot out from underneath it. The Reaper crashed hard onto the floor, the hard fall leaving the creature momentarily stunned. Foster swung the dagger downward, burying it hilt-deep in the Reaper’s leg.
Achilles went rigid and screamed in agony. He reached toward the silver-coated dagger and failed.
“You lose,” Foster said. “Weasel Dick.”
“I’m sorry, Master,” Achilles whispered. “I—” He shuddered once more and then went still.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Foster wasn’t sure how soon their ride was going to arrive, but he knew that Sams might still be in trouble. It was up to him to rescue Derrick. He was closest, and Amanda had confirmed that Walker’s ankle was definitely broken. Like it or not, he was the best remaining option left to help Sams. Foster hustled through the museum, working his way toward flanking his friend’s last-known location. There were dozens of dead Reapers seemingly everywhere without a visible wound to be found. It reassured him that he had killed the
ir leader when he killed Achilles.
As he got closer to Sams’ likely location, the mixture of bodies changed. There were pools of blood in random places, with both Guardians and Reapers among the dead. He heard several voices shouting and hurried to pick up his pace.
“I want to see Fos-ter,” a voice growled. “Tell him that Haas commands him to show himself.”
“I don’t care what you want,” Sams yelled back. “You’d already be dead if I hadn’t seen you chase those Disciples away.”
“You overestimate your abilities, human.”
“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” Sams demanded. “I’m a fucking Army Ranger. I will kick your ass from one end of this base to the other.”
Foster came about the corner and saw Sams and Haas facing each other. A quick glance at both of their bodies told him it was quickly escalating to a likely physical confrontation.
“Stand down,” Foster shouted. “Both of you.”
“You sure?” Sams asked. “He claims he helped us.”
“He’s right,” Foster said. “For now, consider him to be on our side.”
“Of course I am,” Haas answered. “Why wouldn’t I be? Our goals are the same.”
“Pipe down, Chewbacca,” Sams interrupted. “Malcolm, what the hell is going on?”
Haas growled loudly. “Walk with me, Fos-ter,” he said. He turned and walked toward an open hangar. “Leave the loud one here.”
The Wretched Series | Book 4 | Wretched Aftermath Page 25