Tribulation Road: A Red Hot Treats Story

by Colt, Shyla

  Tribulation Road

  by

  Shyla Colt

  A Red Hot Treat Story

  * * *

  Shyla Colt copyright 2014

  Cover by Dreams2MEdia

  Smashwords Edition

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  DEDICATION

  Thanks to all my Colts who take a chance on me with every new adventure. It’s my hope that I do you proud and take you places you never expected to go with my words. To the man upstairs who made this all possible and made me not only a dreamer, but a woman with a “can do” attitude. Truly, none of this would be possible without some kind of divine intervention. Last but not least, for my family and friends who share me with all the people that live inside my head.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Brigh Howell cut the engine on her black sedan and surveyed the hotel. The beige building with hunter green accents had decent cars in the parking lot, a clean exterior, and prices in the fifty to sixty dollar range. When Richard called her in on a case involving suspected ghouls, she set aside her research and hit the road. It’d taken her six hours of driving while pushing the speed limit, but she made it here with the sun still high in the sky. They would hunt tonight. She stepped out of the car and stretched her arms above her head. Unlike the movies, keeping a low profile meant having a nondescript vehicle.

  Rolling her neck, she worked out the kinks and moved to the back seat. She hefted the black duffle over her shoulder and walked to room 203. Rapping on the door, she studied the neighboring rooms. Everything seemed quiet for a town plagued by disappearances. The door swung open and she smiled at the olive-skinned man with sharp brown eyes, long black hair, and facial hair that told her he’d been living for this case for the past week.

  His eyes lit up and he flashed the million-dollar smile that usually got him out of sticky situations. “You got here fast,” Richard said, stepping back and allowing her entrance into his room.

  “They don’t call me lead foot for nothing. How’s it going, Richie? You’re looking rough around the edges.”

  There were shadows forming beneath his eyes and the tiny red lines on the whites of his eyes told her he hadn't slept much. “You’re all heart, Brigh,” he quipped as he rolled his eyes.

  “You wouldn’t like me if I was a liar.”

  “You’re right.” He shut the door behind her and engaged the lock.

  “You want to clue me in on this?” she asked while studying the maps he had taped to the wall.

  “Yeah, I got called in by the local parish. They had a lot of Alzheimer’s patients disappearing from the nursing home. Residents claimed to hear strange noises and a few of them said they saw lights. The building borders the woods, so my first thought was maybe it was puckwedgies or will-o-the-wisps.”

  “I would’ve thought the same.”

  “I set up some recon, and the next thing I know, I have a group of stumbling, rotting, corpses.”

  Brigh shuddered. Even after all this time, ghouls got under her skin. There was something utterly disturbing about a monster that resembled a perverted version of a human. Their yellowish-green skin drooping off bones, spindly fingers, bulging eyeballs, and hideous stench could turn the stomach of an experienced hunter. Her father, however, had trained her well. Members of her community were known for being the best. Raised for the sole purpose of hunting, Noble was a name well respected among inner circles of hunters. “I’m glad you called me. You have a pension for trying to play hero.”

  “Yeah, well, a pack of ghouls will make mincemeat of the best hunter,” he said.

  “Truth. What can I do?”

  “Sharpen your sword and help me come up with a plan.”

  “I hope you aren’t expecting me to play bait.”

  “What do I look like, an amateur?” he scoffed.

  She opened her mouth to answer.

  “Don’t answer that.”

  Brigh smirked and he rolled his eyes. The mood lightened. Mission accomplished.

  “Smart ass. I swiped some blankets from a newborn to wrap a realistic baby doll in.” Richard walked over to his desk and lifted an eerily accurate facsimile of a newborn. “I tampered with the vocals and have them hooked up to a remote control. I figure we can use it to draw them in.”

  “Well, no one ever accused ghouls of being the brightest bulbs on the tree,” she said.

  “Thankfully, ‘cause the bastards are like indestructible tanks. You damn near have to dismember or roast them to make them stop. Not convenient when you’re trying to avoid getting arrested.”

  “Yeah,” she snickered. “Are we dealing with enchantment, or naturally occurring?” She flipped through the case files on the missing residents. They were from a number of surrounding cities, different races and ages. If a connection existed between them, it wasn't obvious.

  “I can’t say, but I’m leaning toward freak of nature variety, because nothing else odd is going on in the town. No breaks-ins, no family feuds.” Richard shook his head and set the baby down on the desk.

  Brigh sank down on the edge of the bed. “I brought some UV lights, like you asked.”

  “Good, we’ll stun them, toast em’ to ashes, and cut the stragglers down.”

  “Sounds good. You got some flame throwers handy?”

  “What do you think I called you in for, cousin? You were the one at the home front with all the stock.”

  She grinned. “It’s all in the trunk. I didn’t think hauling it out in broad daylight was the best route to go.”

  “Agreed. Right now, they think I’m an insurance man investigating possible negligence at the nursing home.”

  “Fancy,” Brigh noted.

  “Shut up. You’re lucky you’re my favorite female cousin.”

  “I’m your only female cousin,” she retorted.

  “Yeah, there is that.”

  She rolled her eyes. The label of being a Noble at all was a noose around her neck, tightening more every day.

  “As soon as the sun goes down, we’ll prepare the flamethrowers. Right now, we need to lay a trap.”

  “Are they living in the woods?”

  “No, there’s and old forgotten cemetery in the thicket. I think they wandered from the main graveyard and realized there was a fresh feeding source,” he explained.

  “They never could resist fresh flesh if they could get their hands on it. Heads up.” She tossed him the keys. “Unload A.J. while I go over your files.”

  “You just got here and you’re already putting me to work?”

  “Hey, I’m the reinforcements, not a trainee.” She shrugged.

  “Keep it up and I’ll tell people what A.J. stands for.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Backstreet’s back, alright,” he sang while heading for the door.

  “It was a stage!” she yelled, mentally kicking herself for her drunken admission. She grew up in a male-dominated world. Hiding her feminine inclinations was second nature. Except with Jaegar Sutton. The silver ring between her breasts burned cold beneath the brown thermal shirt she wore. She brushed thoughts of him aside. In order to continue the Howell legacy, she would have to let go of a faded memory and think about settling down. She’d tried going with her heart and it failed her. This time, she’d choose for cunning and strength.

  Richard returned with a few more duffle bags.

  “Most girls love perfume. Me, I love the smell of deer urine because I k
now it’s going to save my ass,” Brigh drawled sarcastically.

  “We got a real lady with you.”

  “You want manners or someone to have your back?” It was a long standing joke she bore the butt of. A hazard of being the lone female of their generation. It’d hardened her. Growing up, it’d carved her up inside. No woman wanted to be defeminized. Even if she did spend the majority of her time covered in dirt, urine, spatters of blood, and horrible clothing. The job came first and like a good soldier, she made her sacrifices accordingly.

  Properly doused, they gathered their bags and headed out.

  “We’re taking your car. I didn’t prep mine.”

  “I figured,” Richard said. Most of the men found her cleanliness amusing, but they’d grown used to it over the years. Whether they admitted it or not, it saved their ass more times than once. There’s something suspicious about a person covered in gore and guts.

  They walked out to his black truck where she made the climb to his cab and tossed her bag into the back seat. The older Ford model rumbled to life and they drove out of the motel parking lot. The small town looked quaint. Exactly what she expected for a tiny place smack dab in the middle of Indiana. The sun warmed her face and the tiny crack she’d allowed herself in the window took the edge off the scent of urine.

  “Feels like I haven’t seen you in a while. What have you been up to?” he asked.

  “Sticking close to home, playing paper bitch.”

  “You like it that way, though. I’d much rather be on the road.”

  “I like a mix of both, but you’re right, knowledge is my crack.”

  He laughed. “Good thing too. It’s saved my ass a million times over.”

  “That’s what happens when your mother’s the clan librarian, I guess.” The thought of her mother brought a smile. A no-nonsense woman with walnut brown skin, kind brown eyes that could go deadly in the span of a millisecond, and a willowy frame with killer muscle memory who acted like a den mother to all of them.

  They drove through the heart of the town and made a sharp left. The woods loomed ahead. They passed Sunny Days Retirement Home on the right. The lawn in front of the building was gorgeous, lush green with pops of colorful flowers. Patients walked around the perimeter and sat out beneath umbrella covered, circular stone benches.

  Brigh sighed at the peaceful sight. We have to get this handled.

  Ten minutes later, Richard pulled off the main road into a small parking lot. “This is the entrance to the woods. I mapped out the area I think is their feeding grounds.”

  “I’ll follow your lead.”

  “I’m hoping they’re too busy fighting with each other over the fresh meat to realize we’re coming in for the kill.”

  “Either way, once the flames start flying…it’s ashes to ashes. How else are we going to keep them from the sweet old ladies?”

  “I set up the area between the nursing home and the woods with ultraviolet lights. That’s why I ran out. Small towns don’t really have things like that in stock.”

  After years of this, they quickly assembled the trap and headed back to the hotel. The sun went down and they brought out the flamethrower kits. It was terrifyingly easy to make when you knew what to do. Two oxygen tanks full of gasoline, two Co2 tanks, and two miniature propane tanks hooked to hoses; fifteen minutes later—they were ready to rock. They drove back to the woods and waited in the car with the equipment they’d set up.

  Throaty growls came over the speakers about ten-thirty.

  “I think they just realized dinner is cut off,” Richard mused.

  “Well, lucky for them we made them something extra special.” She opened the door to the truck and soaked up the crisp fall air. The full moon lit their path and the headlamps equipped with UV lights allowed them to keep their hands free.

  “I’m taking point,” Richard said, heading off at a brisk jog.

  She followed behind him, careful to navigate the roots that stood out. They moved stealthily and swiftly, careful not to make too much noise. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. Her stomach rolled. Every time, the fear was the same. You never stopped being scared. This expected reaction kept her smart, sharp, and alert. She simply learned to manage it.

  The sounds of snarls, grunts, and moans rang out.

  They must’ve found out dinner was a decoy.

  A group of about twelve gathered around the center of the graveyard with bits and pieces of plastic stuffing and mechanical parts in their hands.

  The hunting pair stopped by the entrance of a small plot that looked like something time had forgotten. A rickety black fence surrounded the sunken land with crumbling tombstones.

  Richard nodded and they kneeled, side by side, lighting the path of gasoline they’d laid earlier that day. They then stood. “Hey, uglies!” Richard yelled. She clicked her headlamp on and he followed.

  The ghouls cried out and began to run. The fire moved to surround them. Four huddled in the center, too terrified to move, three caught fire trying to escape and went up like a primed torch. The other five traversed the flames and ran in different directions.

  “I’ll take the right.” Richard ran off.

  Brigh followed suit and headed in the opposite direction, clutching her hose tight. The beam of light bounced over the surfaces as she ran. She followed the sound of feet dragging over the grass. While their movements weren’t completely zombie-like, they were stilted. She caught one in the far corner of the graveyard.

  He bared his teeth at her and crouched down. His worn gray suit and lapel hung from him and his mostly skeletal face did its best impression of an expression.

  She sprayed him with a blast of fire. He lurched forward and she back peddled. His muffled wails sent chills down her spine as the flames grew and he stilled. She gave the fiery mass her back and scanned the area. The light caught something to her left. An impact and the foul stench of rotting flesh engulfed her as she hit the ground, hard. She got her feet underneath her and pushed at its body. Fleshy wet bits plopped onto her chest. Off balance with the heavy canister of gas on her back, she reached into the sheath on her belt for her hidden weapon. Her machete came free with a reassuring swing. She gripped the razor sharp blade and swung as hard as she could. The blade bit into the deteriorated flesh like butter. It caught on the bone and she removed it then took another swift whack.

  A reassuring crack rent the air just before the knife came through the other side. Its body fell, useless and heavy. The stench suffocated her. She held her breath and she kicked free. Rocking back and forth, she rolled onto her stomach like a turtle. She struggled to her feet and lifted her nozzle with shaking hands. She pulled the trigger and watched the body go up. Every close call, she wondered if it would be her last. She wiped the blade on the grass and shoved it back into its home.

  Breathing hard, she scanned the area slowly. The flicker of light from the opposite side of the enclosed space caught her attention. She jogged toward Richard, ready to provide backup. The smoldering piles of ash told her he’d done just fine on his own. “I got two,” she said between gulps of air.

  “I got three. That’s all of them,” he replied.

  “We should get out of here. With the recent rain, it won’t burn down, but someone is going to see the smoke.”

  “Agreed.”

  They took off back the way they came and climbed into his truck. The ride was silent. They showered silently and began the task of cleaning their weapons and getting rid of any evidence that would link them to the scene.

  She wiped the blade of her machete with the dark cloth, polishing it until it shined. The rotten egg smell clung to the back of her throat. It was a scent that crept inside your mouth and refused to leave, despite the scrubbing and tooth brushing. Research had always been more her forte, but they were running short on able hunters. This wasn’t the life for some people and with the children of her generation leaving more and more, their days of protecting others from things that went bump in the n
ight were numbered.

  Her mind went back to Jaegar—like it always did. She thought they’d be doing this together. Raised by the founding families of the Noble, they were brought up to live in the darkness, pruning the twisted roots that needed to be cut down. In the end, when their training ended at twenty-one, he’d chosen to go his own way. Eight years later, the rejection still stung. The engagement ring he’d given her remained around her neck, a constant reminder that the only person you could rely on was yourself.

  ~* * * *~

  Jaegar eyed the pale-skinned man at the end of the bar with artfully gelled black hair. He’d been coming in more frequently and the regulars he’d been leaving with hadn’t come back. This is no longer a part of my job description. He poured a fresh batch of ice into the cooler and forced his gaze down. It went against everything he was taught to ignore the creatures that roamed around masquerading as humans. The man moved with a grace unknown to even royalty. He was careful to hide it, but for someone who knew what to look for, it might as well have been a flashing red button that said, “don’t push me.”

  It’s not my business anymore. Jaegar repeated the chant as he continued restocking the bar for the evening rush. The mystery customer came in around seven, just after dusk. Imagine that.

  A young blonde with wide blue eyes and a flowery sundress sat down on the opposite end of the bar.

  “Hi, what can I get you today?” Jaegar said with a smile. He knew how to appear harmless and set people at ease. It’d been his bread and butter once.

  “Can I start with a cola? I’m waiting on some friends and I don’t want to start too early.” She flashed him a smile.

  “Coming right up.” He gave her a wink, quickly served her a drink, and struck up a conversation. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in Riley’s before.”

  “No, this is my first time. I’m meeting up with co-workers,” she said.

  “Ahh, then you’ve chosen well. We have half price drinks, appetizers, and in a bit, we’ll start trivia.”