The Eliminators 1 Read online

  THE ELIMINATORS

  Volume One

  By

  Jacqueline Druga

  The Eliminators Volume One - Jacqueline Druga

  The Eliminators Series - Copyright 2019 by Jacqueline Druga

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Thank you to Paula, Connie N, and Al for all your help! And also to Fred, for encouraging this book.

  Cover Designer – Tairelei

  https://www.facebook.com/Tairelei/

  ONE

  Present Day

  He just stood at the door as if he were waiting for someone to answer. Or perhaps he was a mail carrier, he looked like he could have been one. Not that a mail carrier looked a certain way, but the mail box was right by the front door.

  Either way, he was there, too close.

  Rigs saw him when he made his way up the walk of the house. He paused and shook his head. “What the hell guys,” he said with irritation. “Really?” Another shake of his head, he lifted his gladius from the scabbard, the metal blade rang out softy as it ran over the sheath upon withdrawal.

  The wayward stranger at the door turned when he heard it. His 80s hair-band tee shirt was covered in days old blood. Patches of black moved across his entire face. Large patches. At first it looked like rippling skin, but Rigs knew exactly what it was.

  Flies.

  Rigs was fast. A single step into the stranger, he swung out his sword, landing just above the left ear and slicing through the entire top of his head like a melon.

  Every single fly swarmed upward, darting into him.

  He swung out his hands, left and right, cursing because he hated flies.

  The newly turned always seemed to have most of them. Something movies and books never covered. The number of flies that stayed on the undead.

  With a quick shove of his foot, he rolled the body from the front porch stoop. The others would have to get rid of it, after all, Rigs did take him down while the others were in the house obviously oblivious to what was happening outside the door.

  The moment he grabbed the handle, he heard the cheers and groans.

  Rigs grumbled.

  Video games.

  Shaking his head was something he did a lot when it came to his crew.

  In a silent world noise travelled, between the shouts, the beeps of the game and the steady hum of the generator. He was surprised there weren’t more dead at the door. Then again, if there were, they weren’t doing their job.

  He walked into the house and was greeted with a wave of ‘whoas’ and cheers, Rigs was pretty certain they weren’t for him.

  A bright orange extension cord crossed the floor toward the kitchen.

  The couch had been moved to be closer to the television. Kasper, not a nick name, was the main culprit for playing the game. His hands moved about, fingers working the control with fast clicking. Eyes staring wide like a deer in the headlights with so much concentration.

  He expected as much from Kasper. He was young. Not quite young enough to be Rigs son, but he sure acted it. Tall and lanky, he looked in his twenties, but Rigs had a suspicion he was older, Rigs just never asked, just like he never asked anyone’s last name.

  Last names weren't needed anymore. Unless, of course, like Rigs, their last name was the one they used.

  In the near year since it all happened, Kasper hadn’t changed much at all. No one was really that aloof, not after suffering such loses. Rigs always said, Kasper partied the pain into a corner.

  The only positive thing about the video game moment was the expression on Rachel’s face. It looked as if she smiled, and Rigs hadn’t seen her smile in a long time. It wasn’t one of those forced smiles. It was genuine.

  When he first met Rachel she was one of the most upbeat, annoyingly happy and positive people he had ever met. That was before everything went to shit.

  She, like everyone else, had her reasons for being that way.

  Rigs cleared his throat to gain their attention.

  Rachel shifted her eyes to him. “You’re back. We were worried.”

  “I’m sure. Where’s Barry?”

  “Napping,” Rachel replied.

  “Napping? Is he okay?”

  Rachel nodded. “Yeah, he’s just tired. He’s fine. He said to wake him when Sandy’s done with dinner.”

  “You sure? How much did he cover?”

  “He covered with me,” Rachel said very seriously. “We did Elm through Johnston. He’s fine. He's tougher than all of us so stop worrying.”

  But Rigs did worry. Yeah he was tough. Barry was different, he was the one person in the house that he knew long before the event, long before Rigs could even ride a bike. He was best friend’s with Barry’s son.

  Another groan and cheer from Kasper caused Rigs to wince. “I’ll take it that’s why the television is hooked up to the generator?”

  Kasper answered, eyes still peeled to the TV. “Yeah, we figured if she’s using it to cook, might as well.”

  “Might as well,” Rigs said. “You know there was a stiff outside the door?”

  “Lurker or runner?” Rachel asked.

  “Lurker.”

  “Must be Bill. Was he wearing a bloody distressed Bon Jovi tee shirt?” Rachel asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Bill.”

  “We’re naming them now?” Rigs asked.

  “He seemed harmless,” Rachel said.

  “You should have taken him out. I did. Now he needs moved.” Rigs stepped to peek at the video game. “Really?” he asked when he saw it was some sort of zombie kill game. “You don’t get enough of this shit?”

  “Dude, this is way harder,” Kasper referred to the game. “To eliminate them in this game.”

  “Like you guys are the pros.”

  “We are,” Kasper replied.

  “If we’re all such pros then how did we lose Dan last week, hmm?” Rigs asked.

  “Dan? Wait. Was that his name?” Kasper set down the controller. “I liked him and all, but he was sloppy and reckless.” He picked up the controller again. “Besides, it was the rotating spot. I wonder why we even bother to know their names.”

  Rachel bobbed her head. “That’s true. They’re always the same type of person, too. Same personality and everything.”

  “Red shirt,” Kasper said matter of fact.

  “Excuse me?” Rigs asked.

  “Red shirt, like blood, red shirt. Every apocalypse book or movie has them, they come in to just be killed. Hence … red shirt.”

  “Yeah, well this isn’t a book or movie.”

  Kasper laughed.

  “That’s funny?” Rigs asked. “Anyhow, we go to the center tomorrow for the new guy. They said another in a week or so, but definitely one tomorrow.”

  That made them stop playing the game.

  “Why?” Kasper asked. “Why do we need two new guys?”

  “Because we are to be a squad of six.”

  “There’s already five of us,” Kasper defended.

  “Four. Sandy doesn’t count,” Rigs said.

  “That’s not very nice,” Rigs said. “Sandy is a vital part of this group.”

  “Yes, she is, but she doesn’t do sweeps. She’s with us because she does other vital things.”

  “Mom things, doctor things,” Rachel said. “Moral authority, voice of reason.”

  Kasper shook his head. “No, she isn’t the moral authority voice of reason. She’s the older person that tags along.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Rigs asked.

  �
�Every zombie book or movie has the same elements in each survivor group,” Kasper said. “It’s like a representation of civilization. The lighthearted person who doesn’t take things serious.”

  Rigs nodded. ‘You.”

  “The silent chick with a painful past.” Kasper pointed to Rachel. “Military guy … you. Voice of reason is Barry.”

  With an agreeing ‘ah’, Rachel nodded. "Yeah, you’re right. So Sandy is the older person that tags along.”

  “Which leaves …” Kasper said. “The bad boy.”

  “Wouldn’t Rigs be the bad boy?” Rachel asked.

  Kasper laughed for a second then turned serious. “No. Bad boy. And of course, the red shirt. The person that isn’t in the group long enough for anyone to care about.”

  “Maybe this one will be the bad boy,” Rachel said.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Rigs held up his hand. “We get the new guy tomorrow.”

  “Or girl,” Rachel said.

  “Guy.”

  “Such a sexist. It could be a woman.”

  “Yeah, it could be but it’s not,” Rigs snapped. “I’m not a sexist. Center says it’s a man. We get him tomorrow. Like it or not we will welcome him and … get to know his name. Remember we’re a team.” Rigs walked to the kitchen, his foot caught on the orange extension cord and he did a quick trip of footing and stopped his fall.

  The brief serious moment was broken, and Kasper laughed. Before he could get any more irritated, Rigs left the room. At frustrating moments he reminded himself they were a team and a good one. They survived because of how they worked as a team. There was a time though not long before when they weren’t.

  They were strangers all fighting to survive and all suffering unimaginable losses they never saw coming.

  TWO

  EIGHT MONTHS EARLIER

  Barry Bick was rarely without a plan. Not to say he wasn’t spontaneous, he was at times. But for the most part he was a pre-planned man.

  A big man, stocky and tall, Barry was the typical looking Texas farmer just as movies would depict them. Round face, barrel chest with a slight gut, balding head, slick Texan accent, complete with a well worn cowboy hat, a pair of faded jeans and a button down shirt.

  Even though he was older he was never without a ‘ma’am’ or ‘sir’ as a show of respect. He smiled often and was genuine.

  That was how Rigs knew him. A good guy everyone loved. A farm boy who grew up under modest means. In fact, Rigs met Barry and his family long before he hit the jackpot and his little Barry’s Bashin’ Beef went viral in a good way.

  Before that, Barry worked as a maintenance man which supported his family as well as keeping his tiny burger shack from going under.

  All it took was for one presidential hopeful to pop by on the campaign trial and Barry really was bashing.

  Rigs was fifteen years old when that happened. The small roadside shack went from a shack to a building and within ten years he had franchises.

  It never went to Barry’s head, he was always humble and grateful.

  His employees loved him.

  In fact, as much as he could Barry ran the new hire orientation days. He’d jet off as far as England to go to one.

  He made them fun, and Rigs was glad to attend the one by the airport that day. He really didn’t have a choice. They were on their way to a vacation and Barry informed them in between flights they had to do a three hour orientation at one of his restaurants.

  Fly out of Dallas, land in Miami, do an orientation, take a private jet to the Bahamas.

  It would be worth it. Vacations with the Bicks were always eventful.

  Len, Barry’s son, stood in the back with Rigs. They were friends since boyhood, they even joined the Army reserves together. And when he wasn’t serving his one weekend a month, two weeks a year, Rigs worked for Barry.

  Rigs never knew his parents, he had lived with his grandmother who only told him they died.

  Len and his family lived next door. They took Rigs along everywhere, even on vacations.

  Just like they did on that day. Even though he was a grown man pushing forty, Barry still invited him along.

  Len looked down at his watch, then tapped it, signaling to his father.

  Barry got the signal. “And that,” he said. “Is a sign from my son back there. He and his friend serve our country, have for twenty years. Well, part time, but still.”

  People applauded.

  “I gotta go, time to wrap this up. We’re having ourselves a men’s vacation. Of course, the wife is considering it her vacation from the men.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “He’s so freakin corny,” Len said with a laugh,

  “Good meeting ya, any questions, you contact me.” He lifted his hand high in a wave. And trotted away from his speaking spot, shaking hands like some politician as he made his way to Rigs and Len. “You boys ready? Jeremiah?” Barry called Rigs by his given name. Only three people did, Barry, his wife and Rigs’ grandmother. “You excited?”

  “Always am, sir, looking forward to that meal on the plane you spoke about.”

  “I’ll pass on the plane food,” Len added. “I’m stuffed. Had two of those new roast beef sandwiches. They’re great!!”

  “Yes they are. That was your mother’s idea. Speaking of her, she said the new resort hotel is amazing.”

  “Wait. Wait.” Len held up his hand. “You said mom isn’t going. A men’s vacation.”

  “It is. She has her own room.” Barry gave a pat to Len’s back. “Now head out. That plane is probably waiting on …,” he paused when Rigs phone made an alert tone.

  Rigs looked down.

  “Look at it now,” Barry said. “I don’t think we get a signal where we’re going.”

  “I’m sure we get a signal,” Rigs replied. “Hey uh … either of you following this virus story?”

  “Can’t say that I am,” Barry said as they started to walk. “What about it?”

  “Apparently it’s getting bad. They just issued a travel advisory.”

  “Are the Bahamas on there?” Barry asked.

  “Everywhere is on here. Just strange. It’s popping up fast and they’re making it sound bad. Like end of the world bad.”

  Barry reached out covering the phone. “Look if it was end of the world bad, bet a wart on a frog they’d be activating the units. It can’t be that bad. I’m old. Seen these things a million times. There’s a travel advisory, right? Good thing for us we’re going to a secluded place. Trust me,” Barry said. “In a few hours a virus will be the least of your worries.”

  <><><><>

  Baha Breeze Resort, Nassau, Bahamas

  The resort was so enormous, beautiful and plush, Rachel Monroe couldn’t register it. She was nervous and anxious all at the same time. She accepted nearly every free cocktail; that made her lips tingled.

  Everything was a whirl wind.

  When she won the contest, and one of the prizes was a trip for four, all inclusive luxury resort, she thought that was it. She believed the clause in the entry stating ‘upon winning company reserves the right to use image for promotional purposes’ meant her picture as a winner. Not media following her around.

  She guessed it was a big deal, after all she did create the winning original flavor for Bados, the world’s biggest potato chip manufacturer. A yearly contest. Rachel never recalled previous winners getting this much attention.

  Maybe they did and she just didn’t notice.

  Her family and she made their way from the check in area to the west pool for photos, then the rest of the day was theirs, until the Meet and Greet reception and unveiling of the new chip flavor.

  “Mrs. Monroe,” the photographer called out. “Can I get one more picture of you and the family together out here?”

  “Sure,” Rachel answered. She gathered in her crew. Her twelve year old daughter Sami, and fourteen year old son, Brad sandwiched between her and her husband Cliff.

  They all smiled.

&nb
sp; “How do you like the hotel?” The reporter asked

  “It’s over whelming,” Rachel replied. “I feel very out of my league. Very.”

  “Actually we are,” Cliff said. “We’re very out of our element. I’m a social studies teacher. We don’t do vacations, not like this.”

  A few more clicks of the camera and the photographer and reporter thanked them, saying they’d catch up with them later.

  “Hey, babe,” Cliff tapped her shoulder. “I’m gonna take the kids up to the …” He paused. “Suite to change into their swimsuits. Can you believe that? A suite.”

  “I know.”

  “This is the coolest thing, wait until I tell my students.” He darted a kiss to her cheek. “I am so proud of you. Thank you. Get a drink. I’ll be back.”

  Thinking ‘all I have been doing is drinking’, Rachel smiled, watched Cliff and the kids head back into the hotel. She made her way to the fancy outdoor bar. She giggled some when cool air hit her.

  “Let me have one of those pink fancy drinks,” she said to the bartender. “Please and thank you.”

  A woman inched her way to Rachel and stared. Rachel smiled politely.

  “Are you … are you a celebrity?” the woman asked.

  “Oh. Oh my Gosh no. No.” Rachel waved her hand.

  “I saw the reporters and stuff.”

  “No. I’m not.”

  “Good. Not that it’s a good thing you aren’t a celebrity, I just didn’t want to be rude and not know you.” She held out her hand. “Anne.”

  “Rachel.” She shook it.

  “So Rachel if you aren’t a celebrity, why the media?”

  “I won a contest. A big one. The Bados Chip Flavor contest. I came up with the next flavor.”

  “Oh!” Anne squealed. “What’s the flavor?”

  “You’ll have to come to the unveiling tonight in the ball room.” Rachel accepted her drink and leaned into Anne. “I’m not being a snob, I signed a disclosure.”

  “I understand. Can I attend?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll put your name down. Will you be alone or do you have a family?”