Wretched Retribution

by E. G. Michaels

  “A cure does seem like a long-term answer,” Weindahl replied. “I’d recommend our researchers working on a weapon. If we can greatly reduce the number of Reapers, then our troops would have much better odds of eliminating the rest.”

  “I don’t disagree,” Vickers said. “But like I said, I don’t want to rule out anything that can swing this war back in our favor.”

  “I understand, Madam President.”

  “Good. Get those research facilities up and running before there’s no one else left to save.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Foster left the mudroom with his spirits up on the upswing. At the risk of getting cocky, he couldn’t see any reason why Nick’s enhanced knives wouldn’t deliver one-strike kills like his dagger consistently did. He glanced at his watch and decided he needed to find Randy and go check out the man’s boat before it got too late. As he worked his way through the house, he made it to the dining room before a voice called out to him.

  “Malcolm, a word, please,” Charles said. He motioned for Foster to follow him into the kitchen.

  Foster waited until the two of them had relocated before asking, “What's on your mind, padre?”

  “Former padre.” Charles smiled. “It’s been many, many years since I wore the cloth.”

  “Fair enough,” Foster said. “What's on your mind?”

  “I heard about your upcoming call with the military commander.”

  Foster should have been surprised that word had traveled through the group so quickly, but he wasn’t. When there wasn’t much to do besides working to keep everyone alive, it was easy for people to look for far more enjoyable distractions. “What about it?”

  Charles cleared his throat and then said, “I think it would be best if you neglect to mention some of our group’s backgrounds.”

  “Which ones? The doctor, the nurse, or the former Army Rangers?”

  “Take your pick,” Charles said. “You should probably include yourself, too.”

  “Why? Because they might get recruited to help?”

  “That's one way to look at it,” Charles answered. “The more likely scenario is that they get forced to help.”

  “I'm not sure some people would want me to make that decision for them.”

  “You’re probably right. But I think you still need to do it.”

  “I'm not sure I agree,” Foster said. “Wouldn’t it be better to let each person decide what’s best for them? I don’t want to put them in a spot where they have no choice.”

  “It’s not a matter of being nice,” Charles said. “We already think that of you.”

  “Okay, then what is it?”

  “It’s a matter of the military making the decision for them. It’s not like they’ll bother asking for any opinions.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Suppose this captain decides to recall Nick,” Charles continued. “What kind of impact is that going to have on his marriage? Or on our group?”

  “It wouldn't be the first time they'd been separated by Nick's official duty.”

  “No, it probably hasn't,” Charles said. “But when has Nick ever been put into a situation where he's facing such a daunting foe? In case you hadn't noticed, it would appear that our law enforcement and military are not doing well against the Reapers.”

  “I don’t know of any group that’s winning against the Reapers. Well, these Disciples of the Divine supposedly are, but that could be a colossal lie to attract new members.”

  “You might be right about these so-called protected Disciples. But they’re not why I asked you to talk,” Charles said. “If you volunteer Nick’s background, then you’re putting him in a situation where he has no choice but to rejoin the military. Even if it means he’s leaving his wife and friends.”

  “Which is why I’m leaning toward letting each person make their own decision. I can’t force people to stay with our group if they don’t want to.”

  “Of course. But the ones like Derrick, who aren’t married? If he left, how would that affect our group? What about Lizzy and Amanda? I imagine that people who already have medical training would be in high demand.”

  “Okay, I get it. You made your point.”

  “Good. I was worried I was starting to sound like I was beating a dead horse.”

  Foster let out a low chuckle. “Not far off from it, padre.”

  “I'm not saying we need to turn away their help, if it’s offered. An island safe from the Reapers sounds wonderful. But right now, there's no need to tell this soldier everything about our group. Not until we have a better idea of who we're dealing with.”

  The door into the kitchen swung open, and Sams made a beeline to the refrigerator.

  “Okay. Fair point,” Foster said. “I’ll do my best to keep everyone’s secret for now.”

  “Wait, somebody has a secret?” Sams interrupted. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and closed it behind him. “Come on, man, spill it.”

  “It’s not anything new for you,” Foster said, “but it could be for Abrahams.” Foster quickly filled Sams in on his future phone meeting with the captain.

  “Yeah, it’s probably best to keep it ‘need to know’ for now,” Sams said as he used air quotes for extra emphasis. “At least until we have a better idea who we’re dealing with. I’m sure Black means well, but he might totally suck at reading people.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Foster said. “The guy has been a cop for a lot of years. Police officers read people all the time.”

  “And military commanders are great at making a complete shit mission sound like it’s going to be a walk in the park,” Sams countered. “I’m just saying you can’t go wrong by playing it safe about our group’s background.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Anyways, the real reason I sought you out was because I did some research,” Sams said. “Henry was able to help me get online here. We used Google Maps to find Hope Island.”

  “Okay, cool. So what are we looking at?”

  “About three hundred ninety miles by road.”

  “What about by sea?”

  “I don’t have a fucking clue,” Sams admitted. “I know about as much about boating as you know about women.”

  “I know a good amount about women.”

  “Says the guy who had a friend with benefits who may or may not have been married the entire time.”

  “Yeah, let’s not go there, okay?”

  “Hey, no offense meant, man. It just seemed like a good example, and-”

  “Anything else you want to tell me about the island?” Foster interrupted.

  “Yeah. It’s connected to the mainland by a bridge.”

  “Huh. Black didn’t mention any bridge.”

  “Like I said, Black might not have the full story.”

  “I’ll be sure to ask Abrahams about the bridge,” Foster said. “If I can ever find Randy, maybe he can tell me how far Hope Island is by sea.”

  “Yeah, can’t help you there,” Sams said. “I haven’t seen the guy all day.”

  “Me either,” Charles said. “But I’ll let you know you’re looking for him, Malcolm, if I see him.”

  “Thanks, Charles,” Foster replied. “And Derrick? I appreciate the heads up about the research, too.”

  “Sure thing. I’m gonna go find Gregory and see if he has any apples hidden someplace besides the kitchen.”

  “You’ve been hitting the apples hard lately.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I like them,” Sams said. “Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna find any apple trees growing on this island we could be heading to.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “I hear you’ve been looking for my husband,” Lauren said. “Care to tell me why?” She put herself directly in front of Foster and put her hands on her hips for emphasis.

  Foster stared at the woman in front of him. He had two choices. The first one was to ignore her and continue on his way. He had at least a foot and eight
y pounds on her, so it wasn’t likely she would be able to physically stop him from going around her. The second one was to be honest with her and tell the truth. A mental light bulb lit up, and Foster sprung into action.

  Foster flashed an award-winning smile. He said in his politest possible voice, “Yes, Lauren, I have. Did Randy tell you that I asked to see your boat?”

  “No, he didn’t,” she answered. “Why did you want to see it?”

  “Because we might need it,” Foster said. He proceeded to tell her about receiving the call from Black, the reports of Reapers refusing to cross large bodies of water, and the group’s possible escape to Hope Island. Foster watched as her face grew stormier and stormier.

  “Come with me,” Lauren said, the anger in her voice barely restrained. She turned and immediately headed to the basement.

  Foster trailed her by three steps and watched as the woman stomped down the staircase. He hadn’t even reached the basement floor before he heard her say, “Randall Lawrence Bridges, when were you planning on telling me that we might have a place to go that these monsters can’t reach us?” Foster heard toward the woman’s voice, which was coming from behind a six-foot-high metal storage rack. As he rounded the corner, he saw Randy sitting in a lawn chair. There was a beer sitting on the floor next to the chair and a hardcover book in his hands.

  “Uh,” Randy stammered. He quickly dropped the book he had been reading, and it landed on the floor with a low thump. “I didn’t think-”

  “That’s right, you didn’t,” Lauren snarled. “How can Malcolm find out what supplies are needed to get all of us, including your wife and daughter, to this Hope Island if you don’t take him to our boat?”

  “Well, I tried to tell him, but-”

  “I don’t want to hear it. If you have one ounce of respect for Emily or me, then you will get your lazy ass out of that chair and take Malcolm to the boat right now.”

  “But, honey-”

  “Don’t but honey me,” Lauren said. “If you don’t do this one thing, then so help me you’re going to be sleeping alone in the garage until hell freezes over.”

  Randy sprung to his feet, motioned to Foster, and said, “Let’s go, man.” He took the stairs two at a time without looking to see if Foster was following him.

  Foster turned toward Lauren and silently mouthed a quick thank-you to her before following Randy upstairs.

  Twenty-five minutes later, the two men finally arrived at the marina. It had been a quiet ride there, but as Foster shut off the Suburban’s engine, he heard Randy mutter, “Why did you tell my wife I wouldn’t show you the boat?”

  “I didn’t. She asked me why I was looking for you, and I told her the truth,” Foster said. “You think I should have lied to her instead?”

  “No,” Randy said slowly. “That would only make things worse. I swear my wife can spot a fib from a mile away. Come on, let’s get this over with already.”

  Foster saw the man open the passenger door and exit the Suburban without looking. Foster checked his surroundings, then proceeded to follow Randy as the man made his way through the marina gate, heading directly toward his boat. Foster mentally noted the man had completely ignored anything else going on around him. In the best of times, having no situational awareness was a bad habit to have. In the current Reaper-dominated environment, it could get you or other people around you killed. Foster decided to compensate and focused even more on their surroundings. If trouble came their way, Foster was the only one who was armed, and he’d have to handle the threat. He’d offered Randy a Glock before they left the house, but the man had declined, saying he didn’t feel comfortable enough with the weapon to begin carrying it. It was yet another red flag about the man’s lack of understanding about the world they were trying to survive in lately.

  Unlike other marinas Foster had seen before, the boats weren’t spread out evenly across the area. Instead, approximately thirty boats were clustered near one end where the marina pumps were located. A dozen Reapers were casually wandering back and forth near the pumps. As Foster watched, he saw two men move through the Reapers and begin working their way toward them.

  “There she is,” Randy said proudly. “The Lauren.” He pointed in the opposite direction of the marina pumps.

  Foster looked at Randy’s pride and joy. There were only four other boats tied in the same area. He glanced back toward the marina pump and saw dozens there. There was something definitely strange about this marina. He turned his attention back to Randy, who was still waiting for his answer.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know much about boats,” Foster admitted. “But she looks like a beauty.”

  “Absolutely. That’s a 27-foot Sea Ray Sundancer,” Randy said. “Lauren damn near killed me when I bought it. Spent a month sleeping on the couch before she started to forgive me. Once I took her out on this beauty, that put me back in her good graces again.”

  “Naming the boat after her probably didn’t hurt, either.”

  “Yeah, probably,” Randy admitted. “I just wish we could fuel up here at the marina. It would sure make things easier.”

  Foster looked toward the marina pumps. He pointed at a handmade sign mounted near the pumps. “Any idea what that says?”

  “It’s kind of small writing,” Randy admitted. “Maybe no fuel? There’s a bunch of Reapers there.”

  “Let’s ask these guys coming our way,” Foster said. “Let me do all of the talking. Do us both a favor, and don’t correct me if I decide to stretch the truth at all.”

  “You got it,” Randy said. “You think maybe they’re hoarding their fuel? You know, to discourage anyone from grabbing it?”

  “You want to fight through those men and their Reaper friends to double-check?”

  Foster saw the color rush out of Randy’s face. “N-no way,” he stammered.

  “Then follow my lead, and let me talk us through it instead,” Foster said softly. He saw the two men were now within twenty yards of them. One of the men was wearing a holstered weapon, and Foster instinctively let his shooting hand casually drop by his side. He’d try talking to these strangers, but if things went south, he’d be ready to defend Randy and himself.

  “Howdy, boys,” Foster said. “Nice day, ain’t it?”

  “It is indeed,” the double-jowled middle-aged man said. “How can we help you gentlemen?”

  “Just hanging out with my cousin at his boat,” Foster said. “How about you?”

  “We work here,” the younger man blurted out. He appeared to be sweating profusely, and Foster immediately felt his nerves begin to jangle.

  “Calvin, where are your manners?” the older man scolded.

  “Sorry,” the young man said and immediately looked down at his feet.

  “You’ll need to forgive my coworker. Young folks sometimes forget their place,” the man said. “Name’s Walter. We work the marina pumps during the day.” He offered his hand.

  Foster cautiously shook it and noted Walter’s handshake was dry and firm. “I’m Malcolm. This is Randy. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but aren’t you worried about those Reapers near the gas pumps?”

  “Not at all.” Walter smiled. “They’re not a threat to us.”

  “Huh. That hasn’t been my experiences with Reapers.”

  “Why do you keep calling them that?” Calvin asked. “They’re the protectors of God’s chosen people.”

  “Well, that’s what they call them in other parts of the country,” Foster said. “Or at least around Philadelphia they do.”

  “Is that where you’re from?” Walter asked.

  “More or less,” Foster lied. “We’re planning on leaving soon. But first we need to get some fuel for our boat. We’re happy to pay for it, if you’re willing to sell it to us.”

  “I’m sorry, the fuel is private property only,” Walter said. “This marina is, too.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t know,” Randy said softly. “It was night time, and I didn’t see anybody else here.”r />
  “Yeah, like my cousin said, we meant no harm,” Foster continued. “We just need to buy some fuel and supplies, and then we’ll leave as soon as we can.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not my decision to make,” Walter said. “The marina and the fuel don’t belong to me. They belong to the Disciples.”

  “Disciples of the Divine?” Foster asked. He felt his heart begin to sink.

  “Yes. You’ve heard of us?” Calvin said. “I thought you just got here.”

  “I met some of your congregation in town,” Foster said. He quickly added, “They seemed very nice.”

  “It pleases my heart to hear you say that,” Walter said. “I’m sure Ezekiel would agree.”

  “Sorry, you lost me,” Foster said. “Who’s Ezekiel?”

  “He’s our pastor,” Walter replied. “God has given him the ability to guide us through these troubling times. The divine spirit also saw fit to give Ezekiel the ability to control these transformed people.”

  “That’s quite a gift,” Foster said. “Would I need to talk to him about buying some fuel?”

  “It’s not that simple,” Walter said. “Resources like fuel are hard to come by because there’s no shipments coming in. They are reserved for our congregation only. I’m afraid I can not make an exception.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” Randy demanded. “We just need some fuel, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  “Relax, cousin,” Foster warned. “These boys aren’t our enemies. We’ll just need to find some fuel someplace else.”

  “That’s right,” Walter said smoothly. “The truth is, you boys seem like good folks. I’m supposed to tell anyone who isn’t that they’re trespassing and they need to leave immediately. Seeing your boat is on our property, well, we’d be within our rights to take it.”

  “I don’t recommend doing that,” Foster said. He let his hand drop onto his holstered Glock. “Friend.”

  “Malcolm, relax,” Walter said in a soothing voice. “I didn’t say we wanted to do that. You boys seem like good folks. But I do have people I need to answer to.”