Chapter Thirty-Five
“We’re running out of time,” Gregory pointed out. “We have maybe a day left until that guy wants your decision.”
“There’s still a bunch of supplies we need,” Foster replied. “Amanda said we have almost no antibiotics or medical supplies. In a pinch, we could probably find some antibiotics at a pet store.”
“But a pharmacy would be a better option,” Gregory said. “I’m not sure there’s any that aren’t already controlled by the Disciples.”
“We really could use more hollow-point bullets and silver,” Walker said. “I’d feel a lot better if I could make some more enhanced bullets before we ship out.”
“Hell, at this point, I’d settle for regular old hollow points,” Sams said. “There’s no such thing as too much ammo.”
“Probably should grab more bottled water,” Gregory said. “Amanda and I found a few gallons on our last trip. But right now we only have ten gallons of water to take on the boat.”
“Which means we’d be crossing our fingers that Randy’s desalination unit can deliver the rest,” Foster said. “He says it will be fine, but I’d feel better if we had more bottled water.”
“Sounds like we have four distinct things we need,” Charles said. “Water, medical supplies, bullets, and silver. Did I forget anything?”
“Antibiotics?” Sams said.
“I included them in the medical supplies.” Charles smiled.
“We might be able to get all of it pretty easily,” Gregory said aloud. “There’s a small pharmacy not far from here. A family-owned place that I think I’ve been in maybe twice since I moved here.”
“Any reason why?”
“Yes. My health insurance insists we use one of the big chains to get prescriptions filled. It was always easier to just do all of our pharmacy shopping there, too.”
“You think this family pharmacy might have been overlooked?” Foster asked.
“Probably,” Gregory said excitedly. “There’s also a small gunshop near it, too.”
“How close are we talking?” Walker asked.
“Maybe a half-mile?” Gregory thought aloud. “I’m guessing here.”
“Okay, what if we send out two teams? One team to the pharmacy and the other to the gunshop,” Foster said. “We can get most of what we need from two stores.”
“Maybe everything we need,” Sams said. “If we find anything made out of silver, then Nick has metal he can melt down, too.”
“Good point,” Foster said. “There’s five of us. Nick has requested to hit the gunshop personally so he can look for any other equipment he might need.”
“So who goes with Nick, and who goes to the pharmacy?” Gregory asked.
“Actually, I have a preference,” Walker replied. “I think Foster and I should take the gunshop. I’d like to see what equipment they have besides ammo. Ammo and other equipment can get heavy quickly, so I’d like to take advantage of Foster’s strong back.”
“Great, I’m going to be Nick’s personal pack mule,” Foster muttered.
“Saddle up, Trigger,” Sams quipped.
“Don’t worry, Derrick, I thought of you, too.” Walker smiled. “You’ll take Gregory and Charles with you to tackle the pharmacy. With three of you, you’ll be able to grab the medical supplies pretty quickly.”
“Works for me,” Sams said. “Let’s take two vehicles so we have plenty of room for supplies.”
“Randy isn’t going to like it if we come back with too much stuff,” Charles pointed out. “Especially if it’s too many supplies.”
“Does your house have an attic?” Walker asked.
“Yes,” Gregory said. “But you can only access it through the master bedroom closet.”
“Perfect,” Walker said. “We can hide the extra supplies in the attic. Most people won’t bother to check the attic when they’re scavenging.”
“Good point,” Foster said. “Let’s roll out. Nick, you’re with me in the Suburban. Charles and Gregory, you’re with Derrick in the Tucson. I’d like all of us to be back here in a few hours. Good luck, everybody.”
It had taken far more effort than Malice would have liked, but he had managed to sneak his soldiers into town, met up with Achilles, and located Foster. The combined group was currently hiding in a pair of buildings at the opposite end of the block from where his scouts had spotted Foster. It was tight quarters for most of the soldiers, but Malice didn’t care. Everyone had quickly learned to stay out of his way.
His scouts had confirmed that Foster, along with a group of other humans, had taken up lodging here. He looked around him. Nearly one hundred fifty other soldiers surrounded him. One hundred fifty against a dozen young and old humans. Weaklings who could not heal from their own injuries. Mortals who could not run or move as fast as any of his soldiers. Not a single one of them had his special qualities and abilities, either. Even the newly reborn Achilles had superior skills than those humans.
Malice thought about what Beeks had told him. That he was supposed to report in when he found Foster. But so far, he’d resisted doing so. He’d pulled rank and bullied Achilles into staying silent, too.
This was a golden opportunity. Foster and his friends weren't expecting them. They would strike and avenge his brother's loss. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. To hell with Beeks. His leader would understand when he returned with Foster’s head in his grasp.
A soldier came scurrying up and dropped to one knee.
“What is it?” Malice demanded.
“Sir, Fos-ter and others are leaving.”
“What? How many?”
“Fos-ter and four others.”
Malice growled in frustration. “I want twenty soldiers to stay here with Achilles and watch that house. The rest will come with me and follow Fos-ter. Spread the word now.”
“Yes sir,” the soldier replied. He jumped to his feet and ran off to relay his leader’s orders.
Twenty minutes later, Foster brought the Suburban to a stop at an intersecting street. He shifted the vehicle into park and began to scan his surroundings. There were streetlights on both sides of the roadways, and they illuminated the area almost completely. He immediately spotted the family pharmacy further ahead on the left. As he began to scan to his right, he heard Walker begin to speak.
“Gunshop to our right,” Walker said. “Looks like Gregory was right about how close the two targets are to each other.” Like Foster, he had opted to bring one of the suppressed AR-15 rifles with an attached Eotech Optic scope.
“Great,” Foster said. “Let’s hope the good luck continues.”
The two men got out of the Suburban, and a moment later were joined on the street by Sams, Charles, and Gregory. Foster noticed Sams had brought the third suppressed rifle. Charles had opted to bring the Benelli shotgun and had attached a light on it.
“Quiet night,” Foster said softly. “Everybody ready?”
“Yeah,” Gregory said nervously. He pulled a Glock and penlight out of his jacket and held both pointing toward the ground.
“Incoming,” Walker said. “Eleven and three o’clock.”
“So much for an easy stroll through town,” Sams quipped. He moved to his right and took a position behind an abandoned car. Charles and Gregory followed his lead.
Foster saw Walker head toward the gunshop and take up position behind a mailbox on the left side of the street. Foster ran to a streetlight opposite his friend and crouched behind the partial cover. He brought his rifle up and glassed the area in front of him. He saw eight Reapers approaching and over a dozen following closely behind. Foster committed to his side of the street, trusting Walker would handle the other half of the firing zone.
Foster heard gunfire behind him, stole a quick glance, and saw Sams, Charles, and Gregory were engaging a smaller incoming pack.
Foster turned his attention back toward his own incoming attackers and sighted on the closest Reaper charging in. He let out a quick exhale to help calm hi
s jangling nerves and pulled the trigger once. His rifle fired, and Foster saw the monster’s head snap backward. He didn’t wait to see if the shot had put the creature down for good before he was already finding another hostile to target. Foster fired and saw the Reaper drop to all fours a moment before his shot sailed harmlessly past. Foster swore under his breath, adjusted his aim, and unleashed three more shots. This time, the trio of bullets stitched their way up the bounding Reaper’s torso, with the last one slamming into the creature’s jaw. The Reaper spun awkwardly to the side before crumpling to the ground.
The fight was on, and so far it looked like Foster and his group were winning decisively. Foster said a silent prayer of thanks and went back to shooting.
Chapter Thirty-Six
A wave of panic rolled over Malice as he looked around him. In a matter of seconds, dozens of his soldiers had been wiped out. How could five humans devastate his group so quickly?
The last time he’d led his troops against Fos-ter, he’d discovered too late that the man had partnered with a bunch of other soldiers with powerful guns. But this time? This time it was five humans, including an old man. Could Fos-ter have become even more powerful since then?
He was about to fail again, and the thought was unbearable. How would he face his master, knowing he’d deliberately ignored orders? A shot whistled past his head and struck a building behind him. He looked around wildly and saw Fos-ter and another man each had some type of rifle in their hands. A chill ran up and down Malice's spine. He had heard the stories about how Foster had killed a red-eyed Alpha named Pak. Malice had never met him personally, but he had heard from others that Pak was almost as powerful as their master. Foster had supposedly killed Pak with a rifle shot from hundreds of yards away. If that was true, then what chance did Malice have when he was only a mere football field away?
A new feeling crept up in Malice's spine, and a voice in the back of his head called it despair. This battle was already lost. To continue to fight it would mean he’d suffer even bigger losses. Maybe even his own life. If he died now, then he would have failed to avenge Nails’ death. With a growl, Malice ordered his remaining soldiers to retreat. He turned, dropped to all fours, and bounded away as fast as his limbs could carry him.
The comms went alive, and Foster heard Sams say, “All clear here. You guys all right?”
More gunfire sounded to his left, and he saw two Reapers collapse in a hail of bullets.
“Changing,” Walker called out.
“Covering,” Foster answered. He sighted on the nearest Reaper and fired twice. The first shot missed the moving target, but the second struck the Reaper in the head. A crimson shower exited the back of the monster’s head, and the creature collapsed soundlessly. Foster scanned the immediate area and didn’t see any more hostiles.
“Hold on, Sams,” Foster answered.
“Got a red cape,” Walker called out.
“Where?” Foster yelled back.
“Retail strip.”
Foster scoped the area ahead. He saw the gunshop was located in the middle of a small two-story retail strip mall. The Reapers appeared to be retreating behind the long set of buildings.
“Foster, give me a sit-rep,” Sams said over the comms.
“We’re okay,” Foster said. “Reapers have retreated toward the gunshop. You?”
“Reapers are down,” Sams answered. “There was one that managed to get away. We’re moving to the pharmacy while the coast is clear and before any Reaper reinforcements might show up.”
“Copy that,” Foster said. “Nick and I are proceeding to the gunshop. We’ll call you if we need help.”
“Good hunting, Foster,” Sams replied. “Sams out.”
The two men had moved in a leapfrog pattern, working their way toward the retail strip of stores. As they reached the stores, Foster stopped at the corner of the closest one and hugged the wall. A moment later, Walker took an overwatch position behind him.
“Clear the whole strip?” Foster asked.
Walker shook his head. “Take too long. They’re probably long gone.”
“Copy that,” Foster said. “I suggest we do a quick peek in the front window of each one to make sure there’s nothing waiting to ambush us.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Five minutes later, the men had finished their visual check. Nothing seemed out of place in any of the stores, and they were back to the front door of the gunsmith shop. Foster hugged the left side of the door frame and Walker the right.
Foster grabbed the door handle with his left hand and tested it. The door began to open easily, and he quickly closed it. He glanced at Walker and signaled he wanted his friend to enter the building first. Walker nodded once and brought his rifle up to a ready position. Foster held up three fingers and began to lower them one at a time. When the last finger dropped, he opened the door and Walker stepped into the breach, doing a quick circle sweep. Foster stepped around the door, following his friend into the store. He saw Walker begin to move to his right, and Foster went left, scanning for any potential hostiles.
“Clear,” Walker whispered. “Checking back room.”
“Copy,” Foster answered softly. “I’m right behind you.”
The two men moved as one through the doorway and then spread out in the backroom.
“Clear,” Foster said.
“Over here,” Walker called out “Got stairs going up.”
“We should clear the second floor before we start collecting anything,” Foster said.
“You want to take lead, or should I?” Walker said.
“Rock, paper, scissors?”
“Screw that,” Walker said. “You take point.”
Foster chuckled softly. He brought his rifle up into a ready position. Foster slowly worked his way up the stairs, with Walker following several steps behind. It was a short metal staircase with the wall seemingly on all sides. As they approached the second-floor landing, Foster noticed the door was ajar on the next floor. He gestured, threw his fist up.
There was definitely some kind of movement above, and the two men immediately froze in place. The door slammed open as a trio of Reapers came charging through. Foster dropped to a half-squat to give Walker a clear shooting lane. Foster aimed up at the doorway and fired toward the closest Reaper. His first shot struck the monster in the shoulder. Foster instinctively adjusted his aim and began firing rapidly, stitching his shots until he struck the creature in the nose. The monster had barely fallen when a second Reaper immediately filled the gap and Foster was forced to quickly shift his focus to the new hostile.
Foster immediately fired twice, hitting the still-standing Reaper in the face. A bloody macabre splashed against the door, and the creature began to collapse. Out of the corner of his eye, Foster saw a third Reaper ricochet off the dying Reaper and a nearby wall. The monster’s momentum allowed it to soar over his shoulder, and a split second later, there was a loud crash behind him. Foster spun around in time to see the Reaper and Walker tumbling down the stairs together, a blur of human and monster limbs flailing.
“Nick,” he shouted as he rushed toward the tangled grouping.
Foster took the stairs two at a time, and when he reached the bottom, he saw Walker had managed to maneuver onto his back and was holding the Reaper into his guard. The move was preventing the creature from reaching Walker’s neck or face. Foster watched as Walker swung up his feet up and over the monster’s shoulders and back. A moment later, the former Ranger executed a perfect triangle choke. The monster fought to break out of the submission hold, and Walker immediately shifted the hold into an armbar. The hold was sunk in deep, and Foster knew from experience there was no getting out of it without tapping. The Reaper continued to futilely try to escape. Walker executed the hold fully, and a split second later, Foster saw the monster's elbow hyperextend with a loud pop. The Reaper howled in pain and reared back, trying to pull out of the still-locked-in hold. Walker seized the advantage, pulled his combat knife, and
slammed it into the monster’s side. The creature’s body went stiff and then it began convulsing wildly before it suddenly went still.
Foster hurried toward Nick, who was pinned under the dead weight of the Reaper. He stole a quick glance toward the top of the staircase to make sure there weren’t any additional Reapers coming toward them. The coast was clear, so he turned his attention back to his friend.
“Nick, are you hurt?”
“Just my pride,” Walker said. “Can't believe the bastard managed to take me down.”
“Well, in all fairness, he did bounce off a wall to get to you,” Foster said.
“True. I’m lucky I didn’t get hurt.”
“Lucky still beats dead,” Foster said as he leaned over, grabbed the back of the shirt of the dead Reaper, and timed it with Walker's efforts to slide the body off to the side. It was a formerly athletic-looking man, wearing a Nike sweatsuit and a tank top that showed that even before being transformed, he had been someone who was fairly athletic and muscular. He checked the Reaper for a pulse and found none. “Enhanced knife?” Foster asked.
“Uh-huh. Looks like the prototype works after all.”
“That’s great news,” Foster said. “Let's finish clearing the upstairs.”
“Yeah, about that. I'm taking the lead this time,” Walker said. “You can play catch with any Reapers that manage to get by me.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Haas watched as the young minion staggered sideways toward him. He was hidden in the shadows, and the creature hadn't seen him yet. He reached out mentally to probe the transformed human. It was definitely not one of his. The bond connecting the creature to its master seemed different. Unfamiliar. It wasn’t one of Giles’s soldiers, either. Each of their bonds was like a personal signature that linked a minion’s mind to their own.
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