The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set

by Ernest Dempsey

  He'd rigged a small winch to the bottom of it and synced it with two buttons on the controller so he could raise and lower lightweight objects. In this case, the object he attached to the long wire was a compact, highly sensitive microphone. The device was no bigger than a quarter in diameter, contained in a two-inch long plastic cylinder, and it could pick up sound through walls or from over fifty yards away.

  The plan was simple enough. Would it work? There was only one way to find out.

  He removed the goggles from his neck and set them next to the racing drone. The surveillance aircraft used a screen on board the controller that allowed the pilot to see everything through the camera fixed to the machine. The camera was attached via a gimbal which allowed the pilot to rotate the view on an x and y axis for better viewing coverage.

  Dak picked up the drone and placed it on the ground. Satisfied he'd made all the necessary preparations, he sent the thing skyward with a push of his thumb.

  The aircraft didn't shoot up like the racing drone. Instead, it climbed at a steady speed, gaining altitude until Dak could see over the ridge once more.

  He eased the drone forward, pushing it higher as the machine approached the farmhouse. Hovering over the fields, Dak froze the drone in place when he saw movement around the front.

  A tall figure stalked toward a red pickup truck, climbed in, and drove off down the gravel driveway, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake.

  Dak tightened his eyebrows. Nate was leaving. But for how long?

  He could make a move, let the drone crash, and storm the farmhouse to rescue the boys, but that would be foolish. He didn't know where Nate was going or for how long he'd be gone.

  It could be a trap. If Nate felt he was being watched, it was possible he'd made it look like he was leaving to lure in a potential rescuer. Then, once inside the house, the trap would spring. Dak would be stuck inside with nowhere to run. He could always shoot his way out. That option always sat on the shelf, ready to be utilize as a last resort.

  Dak ignored the irrational impulses and steered the drone ahead, pushing it to its maximum speed until it reached the farmhouse. With a quick look through the camera at the driveway to make sure Nate had gone, he bought the aircraft down rapidly toward the roof. From above, the house was shaped like a cross, with two smaller rooms jutting out toward one end. The gutter at the corner of one intersection would be the perfect place for the microphone. It would be out of sight and close enough to pick up sound in the home, possibly even in the basement—assuming that's where the boys were being kept.

  He steered the aircraft toward the back corner, away from the driveway, and stopped when the machine was directly over it. The drone descended another twenty feet until it hung just below the top of the roof. Satisfied with its position, he pressed the button to activate the drone's winch.

  The microphone lowered from the aircraft's body as the thin cable unspooled. Dak held his breath as the listening device neared the roof's corner. A breeze picked up and caused the microphone to sway. The drone held steady due to calibrations built into the processors for such inconsistencies. Dak nudged the machine a little to the right and continued lowering the microphone until it cradled into the corner, the sound-sensitive end pointing directly into the house.

  He pressed another button, and the winch released the cable, letting it fall gently into the gutter next to the microphone.

  Satisfied with the device's position, Dak maneuvered the drone down next to the house and scanned the area. He rotated the camera, inspecting the back steps leading down onto the lawn where an apple tree grew next to an old bird bath. He continued searching; moving the camera until he found what he hoped was there.

  With a smug grin, Dak guided the drone over to a huge propane tank sitting behind the house a few yards from the exterior wall. He steered the machine around until it drifted into the shadows mere inches off the ground and then set it down next to one of the legs holding up the tank.

  There was a chance Nate would see the drone parked there in the shadows, but that chance was slim at best. His ex-teammate had other things on his mind. What those things were, Dak wasn't sure, but with the microphone in place and the drone positioned as a backup plan, he was ready to have a listen at what was going on inside.

  He set down the controller and switched it off, then picked up a black receiver box connected to a headset. He fit the headphones over his ears and turned on the receiver, pointing the top of it toward the general area he knew the farmhouse would be over the ridge.

  At first, he didn't hear anything except the hum of a refrigerator inside the building.

  He waited patiently for a minute, then two, hoping one of the boys would say something.

  His patience paid off when, finally, someone spoke up.

  "Is he gone?" the voice asked.

  "It sounded like he went somewhere," another answered. "He does that now and then to get supplies. He won't be gone long."

  "Not that it matters," a third voice chimed in. "There's no way to get out of these cells. He's going to keep us in here until tomorrow when he lets us out."

  Out? Dak wondered.

  "I still think we could do better if we stuck together," the first voice continued. "But maybe there's a way we can do both."

  "Both?" This voice was new, deeper.

  "If we pair up, go in twos, we can utilize the benefits of splitting up and the strength of numbers."

  Silence resumed for nearly a minute.

  "I like it," the second voice said. "We will pair up. That will make it more difficult for him to hunt us down, and if he happens to, maybe we could get the upper hand if we're lucky and take him out."

  Dread filled Dak's heart as he heard the conversation end. Now, at last, he knew what Nate was up to. He'd set up his own private hunting ground, and the eight boys he'd captured were to be his game.

  "Shut up," another voice said, snapping Dak's attention back to the radio. "He'll be back any minute. We know what to do. Tomorrow, when he lets us out, we go in twos. For now, keep your mouths shut unless you don't want to get the chance to escape."

  Tomorrow, Dak thought. Nate must have told the boys his plan. The relief at discovering the boys being alive melted away like an ice cube on the Vegas Strip in July.

  He had to get them out, but how?

  One of the boys said Nate would be back any minute. There was no way the kid could know that, but Dak couldn't simply charge in over the mountain on foot, or attempt to drive in with his SUV.

  He needed to get more intel.

  With the sun heading toward the horizon in the west, time was running out. Nate wouldn't be stupid enough to make getting into his home easy. He'd have traps set and alarms. Each window and door would be covered. Nate's methodical nature insured all of that.

  Dak realized that if he were going to save the eight boys, it wouldn't be by infiltrating the farmhouse. He was going to have to get to them before the hunter did.

  He turned back to the truck and removed the second racing drone from its case, then replaced the battery in the first with a fresh one.

  He still had a few hours before the sunset to get the lay of the land. If he had any chance of rescuing those boys, it was critical he knew every bend and rise in the property.

  Ten

  Brown’s Ferry

  For the eight boys, the last 24 hours dragged by like a rusty nail on a chalkboard. When night fell, sleep didn't come—not easily.

  Oliver managed to fall asleep for a few hours despite the overwhelming sense of dread brimming in his thoughts. Jamie sat up most of the night, looking over at his brother as he lay on a thin mattress placed on the floor. Jamie knew he needed rest and eventually he succumbed, dozing off and waking up a dozen times throughout the night—anxiety a constant alarm with no snooze button.

  The faint sound of a rooster's crow in the early morning hours roused Jamie from his thin slumber, as it had every morning since he had arrived at this place. Upon waking, he l
ooked to his kid brother, sadness and fear filling his gaze.

  Oliver still slept, though he rolled over a few times, which Jamie took as a signal the younger boy would soon wake.

  He didn't know what time it was, but Jamie figured it to be around six in the morning. He remembered visiting his grandparents on a farm when they were younger. A rooster always woke them at six—dreadfully early for a child.

  Jamie would have given anything to be on that farm again, with his parents and brother, safe from all of this… madness.

  He'd always believed that the stories he heard of people being abducted would never happen to him. Those things happened to other kids, ones who were careless or strayed too far from their parents or weren't tough enough to take care of themselves.

  Not him.

  Yet, here they were, locked up in some madman's personal dungeon.

  The door at the top of the stairs creaked open and the heavy footfalls of their captor's boots clomped on the steps as the man approached.

  "Wakey, wakey, boys," the man's voice thundered through the basement. "Rise and shine!" His words were laced with a mocking venom.

  If Jamie were stronger, he'd teach the guy a lesson, pummel him until he blacked out. Maybe going even farther. A foreign anger boiled inside him, steaming in the dark shadows of his mind that he didn't know existed.

  This man didn't deserve anything less, Jamie thought. He was sick, a demented and evil being. Another look over at Oliver as he groggily woke from his slumber reinforced those feelings of rage.

  "Big day for you boys," the captor said. "Breakfast will be ready in one hour. I hope you got a good night's rest. Would be a shame if you didn't make this interesting for me."

  This, Jamie shuddered at the thought. The casual way the man referred to hunting human beings—innocent kids—was easily the most disturbing thing he'd heard in his life. If he and the others somehow managed to find a way to escape, he doubted he'd ever hear anyone say something more vile.

  The man continued his pep talk, or whatever this was. "In five hours, I'm going to let you out of your cages. You'll be chained to each other and led up the stairs where I'll take you outside. Looks like it's going to be a nice day. Warm, too." He almost sounded as if he were about to go golfing. "For now, just relax and enjoy the morning. I'll be back down with your breakfast in a bit."

  A shadow passed through the dim light shining through the doorway. The sound of the man's boots on the stairs thudded again as he ascended, followed by the creaking door slamming shut.

  "Not much of a pep talk," Jamie quipped, unafraid the man would do worse to him at this point.

  "Shh," one of the other boys cautioned.

  "What is he going to do to us?" Jamie asked. "He's already told us he's going to hunt all of us down like wild animals."

  "He makes a good point," the deep-voiced kid said. "It's not like it can get much worse."

  Jamie wished the boy hadn't said that. Those words always preceded something worse, the ultimate jinx in any situation.

  "Just stick to the plan," Jamie said. "Pair up from first to last. I'll stay with my brother in case we get separated in the line." He doubted that would happen. It would be more convenient to simply keep the two together in the chain gang.

  He shook his head. Thinking about things like that weren't productive.

  "Jamie?" Oliver said, sleep still slurring his words.

  "Yeah, pal?" Jamie turned to his brother and offered a feeble smile.

  "Is he really going to hunt us like animals?"

  A sigh escaped Jamie's lungs, pushing through his nose for a few long seconds. "We're going to be fine," Jamie said. "Just pretend this is all a weird game. Okay?"

  Oliver frowned. "I don't like this kind of game," he whimpered.

  Even though the boy was twelve, nearly a teenager, the events of the week had brought out the child in him—the innocent, almost helpless, kid.

  "Well, if we play it right, we'll get to see mom and dad again real soon."

  Oliver stared into his brother's eyes. Jamie did all he could to hide the truth, the fear that dwelled within them. He felt as if his brother could see through him, through the empty words spilling from his lips. They weren't going to get out of this alive. Jamie felt almost certain about that. But what else could he do or say?

  "Do you really believe that?" Oliver probed, the question dancing off the hard walls.

  Jamie took a deep breath and sighed. "I do," he lied. "We're going to be fine. This will all be over soon. Okay? Someone will come and get us out of here."

  "The cops?"

  "Maybe," Jamie said. "Maybe someone else." He scooted closer to his little brother. "If we can get to the edge of the property, maybe there's a neighboring farm. Those people will help us. We just have to be smart and fast. Okay?"

  Oliver searched his brother again for answers, but merely nodded. "Okay, Jamie. Smart and fast."

  Eleven

  Brown’s Ferry

  Dak needed coffee the way a mosquito needs blood. He'd only slept a few hours through the night, and those were involuntary moments at best. He had to get a little rest, though, because the next day would be demanding.

  Now it was here.

  The sun loomed over the horizon with only a few hours to go before Nate executed his abominable scheme.

  Between brief naps in the night, Dak spent most of the time preparing. While there'd still been light the previous day, he'd used his drones to get a general idea of the lay of the land in and around Nate's property. He'd constructed a rough map with the images he'd gleaned. When night finally fell, he set out on foot to reconnoiter the area.

  Dak covered dozens of acres during the night.

  It was cold, but not freezing, and he'd prepared enough with a lightweight jacket and a layer of long sleeves underneath. The exertion from moving around kept him warm as he traversed the slopes and ridges.

  Moving through the forest, he heard wild animals more than once. Most were deer or wild turkey, though he heard a bobcat growl once, as well as a group of coyotes baying in the night.

  With his AR-15 and night vision goggles, along with a pistol on his side, he was more of a threat to the unarmed beasts than the other way around, but that didn't keep a chill shivering down his spine at the sound of the coyotes. Their eerie calls into the darkness were one of the few things that unnerved the hardened soldier. He didn't know why. He'd heard far more terrifying things in his life that didn't affect him to nearly that extent.

  Each time he heard the feral dogs howl, he clutched his rifle a little tighter, like a child gripping a soft blanket.

  Dak spent the bulk of the night covering the perimeter of the property, searching the trees for cameras or other security devices that Nate might have utilized to protect his land. To his astonishment, Dak found no such measures. The rusty, barbed wire fence was the only thing he discovered, and from the looks of it, the weak barricade had been there long before Nate bought the place.

  The only cameras Dak noticed were at the steel gate blocking the driveway near the main road. Since he'd already eliminated that path as a potential entry point, he disregarded the surveillance devices and kept moving along the perimeter.

  While relieved to discover no real security issues to overcome, Dak's concern didn't lessen. Nate was a calculating individual. There had to be a reason for the lack of security.

  Of course, there was the possibility that the man was simply overconfident in his ability to disappear, to drop off the grid and never look over his shoulder. He'd taken precautions. Perhaps he thought that was enough. Dak didn't know, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

  When he arrived back at the SUV, his mind and body felt heavy from exhaustion. He stowed his gear in the floorboard of the front seat and folded the rear seat down so he could lie in the back and get a little rest. If not for the long period of strenuous mental and physical exercise in the forest, he probably wouldn't have slept at all.

  At 7:40 in the m
orning, Dak woke abruptly to a loud, rumbling sound. Confusion swirled around him as he quickly assessed his surroundings, realizing he was in the back of his SUV after a few seconds of trepidation.

  The sound grew louder, reached its climax, and then began to fade.

  Harley Davidson Sportster, he thought, recognizing the familiar growl. Dak exhaled and quickly gathered his things. He climbed out of the SUV and set back to work. Noon would come fast, and he needed to be ready.

  He stuffed the two racing drones into his rucksack along with the controller. The bag also contained a long-range, remote detonator. Dak had planted a few other surprises in the forest for his old teammate, just in case.

  With all his gear loaded and ready, he closed up the truck and set out on foot once more.

  His legs felt heavy as he climbed to the top of the ridge, but he pressed on until he reached the crest. Then he turned east and kept moving until he arrived at a bend in the hilltop. He'd identified this location as the closest point to Nate's farm, and where he could get the best view when the hunt began.

  The plan was simple, but far from perfect.

  Dak knew the boys' plan—to split up in pairs and go in opposite directions. One of the pairs would, inevitably, head toward this general vicinity. If Nate happened to follow those two, Dak would take out the hunter as he pursued his quarry.

  There was only a one in four chance that would happen, though, and Dak didn't count on being that lucky. More likely, Nate would go after one of the other groups first.

  He had a plan for that, too.

  He wished he wasn't on foot. It would be easier and faster to grab the boys and usher them to safety on an ATV. That wasn't an option, so he'd do the best he could with what he had. Right now, what he had was the element of surprise.

  Twelve

  Brown’s Ferry