“I am reporting as ordered, my Lord,” Malice said with a throaty voice.
“I’m glad to see you haven’t forgotten how to show me the proper level of respect,” Beeks said. He chose his next words carefully. “It sets a good example for the others in our family. It tells me that you still recognize your place.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“But I do not like hearing you talk that way to Achilles.”
“My Lord, he is just a mongrel.”
“I don’t care,” Beeks said. “He is someone I believe has great potential. Achilles could quickly become someone we can count on to handle some very important things for us.”
“We don’t need him.”
“Really? As much as I value you, you cannot be in multiple places at once.”
Malice glared at the floor in silence.
“If you think I’m wrong, then say so.”
“We don’t need him to find Fos-ter,” Malice said between gritted teeth. “I gave you my word.”
“Yes, you did. But I have something else that I need you to focus on. In the meantime—”
“I want Fos-ter,” Malice roared.
“Enough,” Beeks shouted. He reached out telepathically, grabbed Malice’s mind, and squeezed hard.
The soldier screamed in pain and dropped to both knees, clutching his head. A small amount of spittle began to form in the corner of his mouth, and his body began to spasm in pain.
“You will do as I order you to do,” Beeks snarled. His voice continued to rise. “I have given you my word. You will have your chance to extract your revenge. Foster will pay for killing your brother. But you are part of a bigger family now. You answer to me. You do my beckoning for as long as I let you live.”
Malice groaned in pain and began to instinctively pull himself in a ball.
“Do you understand me?” Beeks roared. He released his hold on Malice’s mind and heard the soldier immediately gasp in relief.
Malice wiped the spittle from his chin and slowly shifted back into the proper position.
Beeks waited until he did before he spoke again. “I've gotten word that there are some others who are like us. They appear to be organizing their own packs. I need you to find out more about them. I want to know where they are. I want to know if they are a threat to our family. And once you do, then you are to report what you find to me. Only me. Is that clear?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“In the meantime, I will have others looking for Foster and his group.”
“But, my Lord—”
“Find them. Not capture or kill,” Beeks said. He lowered his voice in what he thought might sound a bit more soothing to his agitated soldier. “You will have your chance. I gave you my word. Remember?”
“I remember.”
“Do not test me,” Beeks warned. “Foster and his group are a handful of humans. This other family might be thousands of soldiers who could be a direct threat to our family.”
“I understand, master.”
“I hope you do. I’m counting on you.”
“I won’t let you down, my Lord.”
“See that you don’t,” Beeks answered. “You’re dismissed.” He waited until Malice left the room before he let his mind wander off to another thought which was trying to capture his attention. He quickly realized it would be best if he could work the situation through his mind if he could do so without any interruptions. He glanced at the trio of guards still remaining in the room. He reached out and touched all of their minds at once.
“I need some privacy. I want you to stand guard outside this room. Do not let anyone enter until I tell you otherwise,” Beeks mentally commanded.
A series of yips that sounded almost like yesses answered him back. The guards moved as one and stepped outside his throne room.
Beeks let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He began to think back to that fateful night. A night when he went from being a death row inmate to the leader of millions.
There had been four other patients in the room with him. Two of the men had died during the experiment. A third, Dwayne Haas, was a block mate of his. Another man whom he knew simply as Giles was in the room. In the frantic craziness that ensued, Beeks hadn't seen either one of them leave the room.
Since then, he hadn’t been able to determine their whereabouts. It was almost as if the two of them had disappeared off the face of the earth. Were they the ones rumored to be organizing their own families? If that was true, could they be planning some kind of attack on his family? There wasn’t any way to know right now, and that bothered him deeply.
Maybe they were planning to challenge his position as leader of his own pack. He believed it was the largest group of Reapers in the United States.
But it would be foolish to assume that. He couldn’t rule out that someone else, or even a group of other red-eyes could have amassed an even larger mass of soldiers and were planning on smashing his family into submission.
Well, he couldn't allow that to happen. He couldn’t let someone else rise up and challenge for his place. Not when the future was so bright and so many things were lined up in his favor.
This was his destiny. His calling to be the leader of millions and eventually billions. All would come to worship and adore him. Maybe it would be out of fear. Maybe it would be out of admiration. Either one was fine as long as they never forgot he was their unquestioned master.
Beeks began to laugh. His old high school guidance counselor had once told him that he’d never amount to anything in this world. Well, he was proving that old fart wrong. If he could find that man, he’d personally tear his heart out of his chest and make him watch as Beeks ate it in front of him.
Undisputed leader of the entire world. The very idea made his heart swell with pride. It was a beautiful dream to have, and each day he moved one step closer to achieving it. And if anyone was foolish enough to get in his way, then he would kill them without losing a minute of sleep.
Chapter Three
It was almost daylight when the walkie-talkie chirped to life. Foster immediately awoke with a start.
“Foster, you there?”
Foster pressed the transmit button. “Yeah. What’s up?” he asked.
“It’s light enough that we should be able to see the interior of the stores pretty easily,” Walker said. “We can grab any supplies we find while things are quiet.”
“Okay. Sure.”
“You don’t sound excited.”
Foster stifled a yawn. “I would be, if you told me there was a pot of coffee waiting for us.”
“There might be somewhere around here, but who knows how long ago it was made.”
“Figures.”
“Even so, it can't hurt to take a look,” Walker said. “They probably sold food and beverages. We might even find some packages of coffee.”
“True.”
“Plus, we don't know what things would be like closer to Rehoboth.”
“Gotcha. I’m on my way,” Foster said. Out of habit, he checked the mirrors and scanned his surroundings. He put his hand on the door handle and was getting ready to step out of the vehicle when he heard Sams blurt out, “Did somebody say coffee?”
“Morning, Derrick.”
“Uh-huh. It would be an even better one if we had some fresh coffee to drink.”
““There’s zero chance of hot coffee right now,” Foster said. “We don’t have any way to brew it inside the vehicles.”
“Can’t blame a guy for wishing,” Sams grumbled. “I’d kill a Reaper with my bare hands for a fresh cup of joe.”
Foster saw Walker approaching the Suburban and opened the door a bit more.
“If wishes were horses, then the beggars would ride,” Foster said. “I doubt there’s a Reaper barista on the premises.”
“With all of the shit we’ve already seen, I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“He does have a point,” Walker said. “Heck, you already had a Reaper mess
enger. Way I see it, we can’t rule anything out at this point.”
“You want me to come with?” Sams asked.
“Not right now,” Foster said. “Nick and I should be able to handle checking out the stores. If you can stay on lookout with the vehicles, that would be a big help.”
“Great. Civilian babysitting,” Sams grumbled. “With my luck, you guys will find a fucking mountain of Tastykakes and soft drinks while I’m here twiddling my thumbs.”
“Or we find nothing but a bunch of trash and dead bodies,” Foster countered. “We’ve talked about it. The three of us are the best shooters of the group. At least one of us needs to be on protective detail at all times.”
“Blah, blah, blah.” Sams mimicked someone talking with his hand as he spoke. “See if you find me something with some caffeine in it, will ya?”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Foster said. “Call us if anything uninvited shows up.”
“Copy that. Designated babysitter is now on duty.”
Foster and Walker began walking away. As they did, Foster heard his friend chuckle softly.
“What’s so funny?” Foster asked.
“I just realized I had the transmit button held in while I was holding it,” Walker said as he waved the walkie-talkie. “If Lizzy was listening, then I’m sure she’ll have something to say about the babysitting comment.”
“You think Derrick will be sporting some new scorch marks on his body when we get back?”
“I wouldn’t bet against it,” Walker said. “Come on, let’s go see if we find anything useful in these stores.”
“Hold up,” Foster answered. “We don’t know if any of the rooms will be without working lights. Let’s take the rifles with the night-vision scopes just in case.”
“Works for me,” Walker said.
Foster backtracked to the Suburban. He opened the driver’s side door, reached behind the seat, and grabbed the suppressed AR-15 rifle with the Eotech Optic sight. He checked the magazine was firmly seated and then trotted back to meet Walker. As he did, he saw Walker had the same weapon already in his hands. The former Ranger motioned for Foster to lead them out.
It turned out the first building they reached wasn’t a store after all. Foster felt a feeling of disappointment spread over him, and he shoved the emotion back down. It was far too soon to chalk this rest area down as a complete waste of time. Even so, the fact this building turned out to be a tourist information center instead was definitely a letdown. The center had tall glass walls on three sides, and a dedicated glass revolving door allowed access into the open space.
“Definitely not any fresh coffee in there,” Walker said. “I don’t see anything of interest. You?”
“Two water fountains,” Foster replied. “If they work, it could be an easy way to refill water containers.”
“That’s a big if. Especially if there’s no power. I wonder what’s behind the brown door?”
“Sign says conference room.”
“Huh. Probably doesn’t have anything we can use in it, then,” Walker said. “I say we skip checking it out.”
“Works for me. I’ll stay on point.”
Foster slowly moved past the information center’s entrance and toward an upcoming inverted L intersection. He proceeded to the edge of the intersection and did a quick visual sweep.
To his left, there were women’s and men’s restrooms. There was a freestanding ten-foot-high brick wall intermixed with ground-to-ceiling white circular columns. The brick barriers had a pair of vending machines on one side. The pillars did not. The structural mixture ran parallel to the restrooms for most of the sidewalk. The entire ensemble of restrooms, overhead roof, and freestanding wall formed a makeshift tunnel with periodic gaps to allow people to move about easier.
To his right, there was a short pathway which led to a perpendicular path containing an identical layout of bathrooms and freestanding partial walls. Foster looked straight ahead and saw a decorative fountain about thirty yards in front of him. The fountain was enclosed with a pretty bed of flowers. Foster wasn’t the least bit surprised it was no longer working.
“Coming up on your left,” Walker announced. He stopped near Foster and took in their surroundings.
“Thoughts?” Foster asked.
“There’s some vending machines against those freestanding walls. Might be something we can use in them. But this is a death trap waiting to happen,” Walker said. “There’s no good place to fall back besides the restrooms.”
“The soda machines aren’t lit.”
“Fountain’s not running, either,” Walker answered. “How long you think they’ve been without power?”
“No clue.”
“The beverages should be okay as long as they’re still sealed.”
“Yeah, good point. Might as well take them all then. Between you and me, I’m grabbing the bottled water first,” Foster said. “It has more possible uses than a can of soda does.”
“No argument here. I don’t like soda.”
“The restrooms could have hostiles sleeping in them,” Foster said. “We need to clear them, too. How do you suggest we do it?”
“I’ll clear the first one while you stay on overwatch outside the entrance door. We’ll switch roles for the next restroom. If either one runs into trouble, they can call out and the other can be there in a few steps.”
“That works,” Foster said. He took up an overwatch position just outside the women’s bathroom. Walker darted inside, and Foster heard stall doors being pushed open. A moment later, Walker emerged from the exitway, still looking through his rifle’s night-vision scope, and took up position next to him. Foster moved forward, passed his friend, and went into the men’s restroom. It was nearly pitch black inside. He silently said thanks for remembering to bring his rifle with the night-vision scope on it. He’d hate to have to attempt to clear this area without it. He scanned the room through the night vision and saw nothing out of the ordinary. As he moved through the men’s room, he came upon the glass exit door. He pushed on the horizontal bar, and it swung open easily. Foster stepped outside, letting the door close quietly behind him. The two men repeated the process for the remaining set of restrooms before moving back in front of the fountain.
Foster activated his comms. “Sams, come in.”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Restrooms are clear. If anybody wants to use them, send them our way, but tell them to bring a flashlight.”
“I’ll pass the word,” Sams said. “Any coffee?”
“Afraid not. There’s no stores here. There’s some vending machines we’re going to try cracking open.”
“Copy that. I’ll ignore any glass breaking I might hear.”
“That works. Foster out.”
“How are you planning on cracking those machines?” Walker asked. “Breaking the glass?”
“Nope. I’ll use this.” Foster reached into his backpack and pulled out a tubular lock pick.
Walker let out an appreciative low whistle. “Where did you get that?”
“Found it on one of our recent scavenging trips.”
“Looks handy.”
“Yeah, I wish I’d had it at the airport because it would have made getting into those machines a lot easier.”
Foster moved to the vending machine door, inserted the pick, and in less than one minute, the lock disengaged. Foster grabbed the edge of the machine and swung its door open, revealing the snacks inside.
“You made that look easy. You know if you ever decide to have a life in crime, you’ve already got a head start.”
“Nope. Crime doesn’t pay.” Foster chuckled. “You know, I can’t tell you how many times people lock themselves out of their house or car,” Foster said. “There were guys on the force who were even quicker than me at popping a lock.”
“That’s a vending machine, not a car.”
“Same concept, different device.”
“Uh-huh. Let’s clear this machine and move o
n to the next.”
The two men had managed to clear three vending machines when Foster heard the comms come alive.
“Foster, come in.”
“What’s up, Sams?”
“I'm seeing hostiles approaching. Approximately a dozen of them about four hundred yards out. So you may want to pick up the pace.”
“Copy that,” Foster said. He turned toward Walker. “Time to go.”
“What's going on?”
“Sam has hostiles incoming.”
“Reapers?”
“Likely, but I can’t rule human assholes, either.”
“Gotcha,” Walker said. He grabbed one last handful of packaged food and stuffed it into his backpack. He quickly slung it over his shoulders and brought his rifle up into a low ready position. “You want to take point?”
“Sure,” Foster said. He brought his rifle up and began working his way back toward the vehicles. He saw Walker moving a few steps behind and knew he didn’t have to double-check that his friend was covering his back.
Foster began moving back toward the vehicles, and as he approached the L-intersection, he saw a trio of Reapers coming from the opposite end of the rest area. “Ten o’clock,” he called out as he skidded to a stop near one of the vending machines. He brought his rifle up and began aiming.
“Got them. Keep moving,” Walker yelled before he began firing.
Foster saw one of the Reapers get drilled in the face. The bullet’s impact stopped it in its tracks, and the monster collapsed in a heap. Foster heard two more shots sound out behind him a moment before one of the Reaper’s heads exploded into a bloody mess.
The remaining Reaper continued to rush in and launched itself at Foster. At the last moment, Foster twisted sideways to avoid its charge. The monster slammed headfirst through the vending machine’s glass display. The impact momentarily dazed the Reaper, and Foster made it pay. He brought his rifle up to bear and fired once, scoring a headshot and killing the trapped monster instantly.
Wretched Retribution Page 3