Wretched Retribution

by E. G. Michaels

  “What did Gregory say?”

  “There’s a marine supply store in the middle of town. The problem is it’s smack-dab in the middle of Disciple territory.”

  “Which means we need to be careful if we go there,” Foster said. “I think Randy and I could pull it off. Especially if we play it off as being new-in-town visitors.”

  “Yeah, that could work,” Walker replied. “Let me get cracking on the weapon tinkering.”

  “Would you like some help?” Lizzy asked shyly.

  “I would love some,” Walker smiled. He placed his arm around his wife’s shoulder, and the two of them began walking toward the house.

  “Nick, you mind if I store the fuel in the back of the Land Cruiser?” Foster shouted.

  “Not at all. It’s unlocked,” Walker called back. “There’s a holster in the back if you need it.” The former Ranger steered his Lizzy toward the house and a moment later disappeared inside. Foster turned his attention back to the Suburban and opened the rear hatch.

  “Why are we moving the fuel again?” Randy asked.

  “Nick struck out on the desalination filters,” Foster answered. “We’re going to visit a marine supply store in town. There could be other things we can get there.”

  “And if the trunk is empty, then we have a place to put it,” Randy said as he reached into the back of the Suburban and grabbed a fuel canister. “Makes sense.”

  Foster opened the back of the Land Cruiser, grabbed the IWB holster, and donned it. The Inside the Waistband device was perfect for concealing his Glock before he’d go into the marine store. He grabbed a canister from Randy and began helping the man transfer the fuel.

  Thirty minutes later, Foster pulled into the parking lot. He was surprised to see it was nearly vacant. He picked an open mid-aisle spot close to the West Marine store and shut off the engine.

  “Why didn’t you park closer to the door?” Randy asked. “There’s plenty of spots there.”

  “We’re both going into the store. You know this boating stuff far better than I do.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “If things go bad in the store, I want to make sure nobody blocks us in and we can get out of the lot,” Foster said. “Parking by the door cuts off one of our potential exits.”

  “You think we’re gonna have a problem in store?”

  “I hope not,” Foster said. “But I’d rather prepare for trouble and be wrong than get caught with my pants down.”

  “Oh man, I knew I shouldn’t have come with you,” Randy moaned. “You’re gonna get us killed.”

  “Have some faith,” Foster said as he slid his Glock into his IWB holster and pushed his jacket back in place. Foster did a quick once-over glance and felt confident that there wasn’t any noticeable weapon bulge. He opened the driver’s side door and exited the Suburban. He heard the passenger door as well and knew Randy had gotten out of the vehicle, too.

  “I feel like I’m going to throw up,” Randy complained.

  “Relax. We’re just going into the store to buy some supplies.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  On the other side of the parking lot, a man was slouching low in behind the steering wheel of a beat-up Honda Odyssey. When he’d joined the Disciples, the powers that be decided his birth name of Andrei Jesus Martinez was too long and simply dubbed him Andy. It made him seethe inside, but it was a small slight for the protection being a member of the group provided him. Andy had pulled the watch shift for the lot today. It had been three hours of mind-numbing duty until the dark-colored Suburban pulled in and parked. He brought up a pair of binoculars and saw two men climb out of the SUV. He reached for a walkie-talkie sitting on the passenger seat, brought it up to his mouth, and depressed the transmit button.

  “Guardian Central, this is Andy,” he said. “What kind of vehicle was added to last night’s watch report?” He released the transmit button and waited.

  There was a brief pause, and then a voice answered, “A Suburban. Why?”

  “I got one that just parked outside West Marine,” he said. “Two men just went into the store.”

  A new voice sounded over the walkie. “Andy, this is Walter. We can be there in ten minutes.”

  “A-are they dangerous?” Andy stammered. “I’m not armed.”

  “Probably not,” Walter said. “But it can’t hurt to be cautious. If they come out of the store before we get there, I just need you to stall them for a few minutes.”

  “How do you want me to do that?” Andy demanded.

  “Use your head,” Walter snapped. “Ask them for directions or something. Just keep them from leaving before I get there.”

  The door’s bell sounded out, announcing their arrival as Foster and Randy stepped into the West Marine store. As the two men stepped into the store, Foster was immediately impressed by the size of the retail store. This place definitely had a number of things that would be good to add to their supplies.

  “Can I help you?” a voice said. Foster turned toward it, and then the man immediately blurted out, “Oh, it's you.”

  “Hi, Calvin,” Foster said. “Long time, no see.”

  “What are you doing here?” Calvin hissed. “You shouldn't be here.”

  Foster looked the man over. Calvin was dressed differently than the last time he had seen him. Today the man was wearing a West Marine staff shirt along with a pair of jeans. The Disciple arm band was openly on display, wrapped around the man’s left bicep.

  “We just needed to get some supplies,” Foster said. “Then we'll be on our way.”

  Another man came up. “Are you being helped?”

  “Yeah, I got them,” Calvin said loudly. “Jonathan, why don't you go on break?”

  “Uh, okay. Friends of yours?”

  “A couple of candidates. I met them at the last meeting.” Calvin said quickly. “Don't worry, they're okay.”

  “If you say so,” Jonathan said. “Since you offered, I'm stepping out for a smoke.”

  Calvin waited until his coworker was gone and then blurted, “Do you realize how much trouble I can get in, lying for you?”

  “We appreciate it,” Foster said. “Like I said, we just want to get a few supplies and get out of here.”

  “Wait, I thought you worked at the marina,” Randy said. “What are you doing here?”

  “They rotate some of us sometimes based on where they need us. Somebody called out sick at the marina yesterday, so Walter asked me to go there and help.”

  “Then who covered this store?”

  “Just Jonathan. But it’s not a big deal,” Calvin said. “There aren’t too many people coming in here lately. What do you need?”

  “Couple of life jackets and some fishing supplies,” Foster said. “Maybe a few other things to help restock the boat.”

  “Water filters, too. If you got them,” Randy added.

  “I don't think we have any filters left,” Calvin said. He rushed along, grabbing stuff off the shelves. Foster spotted the life jackets stacked on a floor-level shelf. There were only two remaining, and he grabbed them both.

  “Wait a minute,” Calvin said in an accusatory fashion. “You don't already have life jackets in your boat?”

  “They're in bad shape,” Foster lied. “I figured we might as well replace them while we have the chance.”

  “Uh-huh,” Calvin said. He began shoving the items into a shopping bag.

  “How much we owe you?” Foster said. “Wait, why aren’t you ringing that up?”

  “You need to get out of here,” Calvin said. “No charge today.”

  “What about the water filters?” Randy asked.

  “No time. You need to leave right now,” Calvin said nervously. “If anybody asks, you didn't get any of this from me or talk to me.”

  “Got it,” Foster said. “Come on, Randy, let’s go. Thanks Calvin.”

  The man made a dismissive motion and scurried back into the stockroom.

  Foster grab
bed the shopping bags and headed for the front door with Randy following him a few steps behind.

  Foster moved to the Suburban, unlocked the doors, and put the bags into the back seat. He closed the door and reached for the driver’s side door.

  As he did, a voice called out, “Hi, can you help me?”

  “I’m not sure,” Foster said carefully. “What do you need?”

  A man was peeking around the corner of a Honda Odyssey, and Foster frowned. He didn’t remember seeing the vehicle when they entered the store.

  “Relax, man. We mean you no harm,” Foster said loudly. He slowly dropped his right hand to his waist and let it hang there. If his instincts about this stranger were wrong, then he could easily grab his concealed Glock in a few seconds. “Why don’t you step out where we can see, and then we can talk.”

  A man slowly moved away from the minivan with his hands raised above his head. “Don’t shoot,” he said.

  “Relax,” Foster answered. “What’s your name?”

  “A-Andy,” the man said nervously. He unconsciously took the green scarf that was dangling loosely from his neck and tossed it back over his shoulder. A split second later, he realized his mistake of moving unexpectedly and blurted, “Sorry, I just—”

  “It’s okay,” Foster said. “Are you here alone?”

  “N-no,” Andy stammered. “Well, I mean, my family is nearby. I’m just looking for food for them. Can you help?”

  “I’m afraid we don’t have any on us,” Foster said. “There’s a few stores nearby. Have you tried any of them yet?”

  “Not yet. I-I saw some strange men with guns near one of them. I was afraid to go there. I-I don’t want any trouble.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Foster said. “Listen, we have friends nearby. Safe lodging. If you and your family are interested.”

  “Thanks, but we’re okay for now,” Andy said. “I-if you don’t mind, I’d like to get going now. I’ve been away too long, and my wife has to be going out of her mind worrying.”

  “I understand,” Foster said. “Stay safe.”

  “You too,” Andy said before darting back to the Odyssey. He climbed in, started the engine, and pulled away.

  Foster and Randy watched him drive away in silence.

  “Strange man,” Randy said softly.

  “Yeah. Probably better he didn’t want to join us,” Foster said. “Come on, let’s head back and bring the rest of the group up to speed.”

  “Sounds good,” Randy replied.

  Foster began to open the Suburban’s driver’s side door and stopped in his tracks. He heard an engine race nearby and immediately began scanning his surroundings. As he did, two trucks pulled up in front of their Suburban and screeched to a halt.

  “Oh, shit,” Randy said. “Trouble.”

  “Hopefully not,” Foster said. “Let me try and handle this.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Four men immediately piled out of the two vehicles. As they did, Foster recognized one of them.

  “Walter, long time, no see.” Foster said with an enthusiasm that he didn't feel. He slowly closed the driver's side door to the Suburban.

  “Had a report that there was some trouble here,” Walter answered back. “I didn't realize it was you boys.” He glanced to his left and right before saying, “Stand down, gentlemen.”

  “Yeah, it’s just little old us.” Foster smiled.

  “You're quite a ways away from the marina,” Walter said. “Care to tell me what you boys are doing down here?”

  “A little sightseeing. A little shopping,” Foster said. “I figured we might as well since this is our first time to Rehoboth Beach.”

  “You don't say,” Walter said as he flashed a big grin. “How are you finding things?”

  “Everybody seems to be really nice,” Foster said. “Really nice.”

  “Good, good. I'm glad to hear that,” Walter said. He paused for a moment before asking, “What's in the truck?”

  “Just some stuff we brought with us.”

  “You didn't buy anything in the boating store?” Walter asked as he began to walk around the Suburban. Foster watched him and the other three men who had continued to stay in front.

  “No, I didn't see anything we liked,” Foster answered. “Turns out most of what was in there was a bit too much for our current budget, I'm afraid. We’ve been forced to mostly try to barter for supplies.”

  “That so?” Walter challenged. He pointed toward the back seat and said, “Then how come you got a bag in there that says West Marine?”

  “Oh, that?” Foster said. He brought his left hand up and snapped his fingers for emphasis. “We had a bag that tore. One of the store employees was nice enough to give me a replacement bag.”

  “Really?” Walter said indignantly. He continued walking around the front of the Suburban and joined his men there. “You wouldn't be lying to me now, Malcolm, would you?”

  “Oh, Walter, I'm deeply offended you would suggest that,” Foster said. “Just what kind of man do you think I am?” He let his hand drop down to his side so it was near his holstered weapon. He began scanning the men in front of him, deciding who he might need to shoot first. One of the men had a hunting rifle slung over his right shoulder. Walter was wearing a holster, which appeared to be holding a Berretta. The other two men were armed with just baseball bats. Foster made an immediate tactical decision. If things took a turn for the worse, then he’d shoot Walter first and then the henchman with the still-slung rifle.

  “I guess you're right,” Walter said. “Suppose there's nothing wrong with you doing barter. Have you boys made a decision yet?”

  Foster decided to play dumb. “Decision?” he asked.

  “About joining or leaving the town.”

  “Still thinking your offer through,” Foster said. “It’s a very interesting offer.”

  “You got about another day left to make up your minds,” Walter said. “Best do it quickly.”

  “We will. Hey, can you recommend a good restaurant around here?” Foster said. “I promised old Randy here I'd treat him to some lobster while we're in town.”

  “Probably nothing in your budget,” Walter said with a smile. “There are a few restaurants that are a bit particular in who they serve. These days, they feel safest with just members of Disciples as their customers. I doubt they’d be willing to barter with anyone, too.”

  “Well, that's a real crying shame,” Foster said. “I’m disappointed to hear that. I suppose we'll just wander around and find someplace else to go. If you boys wouldn't mind moving your trucks, we'll be on our way.” Foster locked eyes with Walter to see what the older man would do.

  Walter looked back at him in an equally intense glare and then flashed a smile. “Well, of course. Boys, let's let our new friends here be on their way.” Walter’s henchmen began moving backward to the trucks.

  Foster watched two of them climb into the first one truck. He heard its transmission shift, and the truck began to pull away. The third cohort climbed behind the steering wheel of the remaining truck. He watched as Walter began walking toward the passenger door.

  “I’m gonna need your answer tomorrow, Malcolm,” he said in a menacing voice. “Please don't keep me waiting.”

  “You'll have it,” Foster replied. He watched Walter climb into the truck and slam the door shut, and then the vehicle pulled away.

  “Holy shit,” Randy blurted. “How do you do that?”

  “It comes with being a cop,” Foster said. “Come on, let's get the hell out of here.”

  “Were you really going to buy me a lobster?”

  “Sure,” Foster said. “Right after I win the damn lottery. Come on, man. We got things to do.”

  The two men climbed into the Suburban. Foster took one last glance around the parking lot and didn’t see any other vehicles.

  “I bet that guy Andy was a Disciple,” Foster thought aloud.

  “The weird guy with the scarf?” Randy asked.
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  “Yeah. It’s a helluva coincidence he bailed less than a minute before Walter’s crew showed up. Makes me think maybe he was buying time until they arrived.” Foster turned the ignition, and the Suburban’s engine roared to life. He shifted it into gear and headed for the nearest exit. If he had any doubt about Walter’s threat before, he didn’t now. They had less than twenty-four hours to get out of town, and Foster intended to do exactly that.

  Calvin heard someone coming through the store’s rear entrance and put the month-old Reader’s Digest back on the manager’s desk.

  “Jonathan, you took long enough for your break,” Calvin said as he turned toward the sound. He saw the men approaching toward him and his heart dropped. “I swear I didn't do anything,” Calvin stammered.

  He saw Walter's hand raise back, and then it came at his face in a rush. He felt the man’s hand slam into his cheek, and the blow dropped him to one knee.

  “I told you what would happen if you meddled,” Walter said. “But you wouldn’t listen.”

  “I didn't. I swear I-”

  “Take him, boys.”

  “No, no, please,” Calvin pleaded. “Walter, please.”

  Three men bent over, grabbed Calvin, and began to drag him out from the store. Calvin continued to scream for help that was never going to come.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  There was a long, loud banging sound, and Vasquez bolted up in her bunk with a start. She looked around, trying to get her bearings and figuring out which asshole had set an alarm clock to go off in the middle of the night. It was then that she remembered she had been sleeping in the pilot’s quarters. She felt groggy like she had been woken after a long night of heavy drinking. Except she hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in months. Vasquez glanced at her watch and groaned. She had barely gotten three hours of rack time. Somebody was definitely going to pay for waking her up early.

  Vasquez rolled out of bed and landed on her feet. She felt wobbly for a moment before her instincts kicked in and she realized it wasn't an alarm clock sounding but the base alarm.