Exterminators Infected (The Exterminators Book 1) (27 page)

“But what if...”

“What did I just say?” Carl asked firmly. Marshall wanted to say more but kept it in. He didn't want to hear that, something he already knew, but he knew that was the only real answer. To try. It wasn't resentment or rejection that scared him. It was the fear of trying and failing.

“I just want to know what to do if I mess up. What can I do to fix it?”

“Sometimes Marshall, questions just can't be answered.”

Now Marshall laughed. “That means you haven't asked the right person the question yet.” He winked and fell back to Silver. He patted the giant wolf on the neck and the beast returned the favor by licking his face. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I didn't pick up the letter.” He looked into Silver's eyes and patted his fur some more. “Now, I don't really care what would have happened. I wouldn't change this for the world.” He walked forward and met Carl's gaze. “So old man, what can you tell me about this organization?”

“Things that will turn your head right around.”

“Well then, let's get started,” Marshall said grinning. Carl couldn't help but grin back.
Fred stood in total darkness. No white room. No voice overhead. Nothing but darkness. He felt alone, trapped, and terrified. The once safe haven area in his mind was shattered. He was the one who broke it, now he wanted nothing more but to repair it.
“Other self, are you here?” he called just loud enough for an echo. Nothing. Again the darkness answered with silence.

He walked forward. He wasn't sure where he was going but he wanted to meet some type of end. He knew he was getting worse, that he was losing himself to something. What was he losing it to though? He couldn't figure that out. They told him the wolf hybrid could not transform him into a beast. Yet, that's exactly what was happening. He was changing into something different, and he had no clue how to stop it.

As he kept walking forward he wondered what he'd do. Who can help him now that the situation was getting worse? Peter thought nothing but terrible things about him now, he figured. Even in the last few weeks in training Peter kept his distance. He kept his eye on Fred, as if he was watching for any slips. It infuriated Fred but he kept his anger down. He couldn't get too upset, otherwise his other self would break though.

“I told you not to break the walls.”

The voice boomed loudly and Fred jumped back. He hadn't heard the voice in so long. It sounded distorted. He was just glad to hear the voice again at all. “Other self! You're still alive! I've been wanting to speak with you!” He was so happy he kept yelling. It was as if hope came back into his heart again.

“Why did you break the walls of salvation?” it asked sadly. Fred could even hear the voice breaking down as it asked.

“I broke it ‘cause I had to save my friend.”

“You broke the one thing that protects you. You unleashed something far worse. And for what? A boy? His fate did not matter.” The voice sounded upset now. A slight hint of agitation tossed into it now.
“His fate matter to me.” Fred placed his hand on his chest. “That was my duty at the time. To protect a friend. To protect my teammate. I had no other choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

“Not then, no I didn't. I had to do what had to be done.”

“In order to save one you might have killed many. Are you sure it had to be done now?”

“I'll never kill.”

“What if that wasn't your choice?” the voice inquired, waiting patiently for Fred to reply. Fred wasn't sure how to. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to at this point. He felt like he was losing the war with his body and needed answers. He didn’t want to argue over actions that were in the past.

“Listen, I don't care about that. I'm changing into something different. I need to know why this is happening to me.”

“We make choices in life. Those choices will always affect us; what's more curious is how they will affect the ones around us.”

“Okay, other self, you're pissing me off again. We go through this every time. Just give me a straight answer. What in the blue hell is happening to me!?” he roared. Anger began filling the whole dark space. The voice didn't return. There was only silence. Seconds flew by. A minute went by. Minutes began to pass. Fred put his face into his hands and began to cry. A cry he had held in for weeks now. He couldn't help it. The feeling of something changing inside him and he had no clue what it was, scared the heck out of him. He wondered if he would change completely one day. He wondered if he'd even live another day at this rate. Something was changing and it was happening quicker than he expected. He wasn't sure what to do.
He lifted his face out of his hands and he was back in his living room. He fell asleep on the couch again. His whole body dripping with sweat. He could feel his heart pounding, as if he was just jogging around the block for hours. “What...is...happening...” he muttered before covering his face once more.
Peter opened the door to his home only to be met by a screaming match. His father was yelling at his mother. Peter wasn't sure how to deal with the situation. He felt like the best option was to move back to where he came from. He didn't want to get involve with the parents fighting. He slowly closed the door back when he heard a crash. He swung the door back open and slammed it closed behind him. He could hear his mom weeping from the other side of the apartment.

His father said something inaudible and stumbled into the hallway. “Go help your mom. Dumb idiot slipped,” he slurred drunkenly as he pushed his son out of the way.

Peter ignored him and ran into the living room. He could see his mom on the floor holding her hand, trembling. He could see the deep cut on her hand, blood dripping from her wound. She looked up at her son with blood shot eyes. She was crying for a long time. His father just decided to shut her up quickly by flinging something at her. He saw two broken pots beside her.

Peter turned around towards his father. “Get out of this house.” Peter walked forward. His father waved him away, fumbling with his jacket. He was trying to get it on to leave the apartment. Peter walked up to his father. He could smell the terrible breath. “I said, get out of this house.” Peter now pointed towards the door. His father looked at him, shocked.

“What did you say you little sh-” Peter didn't even know he had struck him. He let his right fist go and it struck his own father on the top of his head. His father wasn't bracing for it, didn't expect it, so he went down hard. His father laid on the ground for a second, dumbfounded that his own kid just nearly knocked him out.

Peter walked away from the drunk on the floor and towards his sister's room. He opened the door to look inside. He saw his sister under the covers, peering out over them to the doorway. “Hey, you okay?”

She nodded to him quickly.

“Don't worry. Just doing some clean up out here,” he said softly. He knew he had to keep his little sister calm. She didn't need to know the whole situation. “I'll tell you when to come out. Don't want to dirty the house.” She nodded in agreement. He shut the door and looked back at the hallway. His father was stumbling back to his feet all the while cursing violently under his breath.

“I think it's time you left my house,” Peter told his father. He had no emotion in his voice. It wasn't a threat, it was a fact. Peter felt it was time for this drunken fool, who he once called a father, to leave for good. His father, however, had a different plan.
He came charging at Peter. Peter so badly wanted to summon his glove but instead took a side step. He laid his foot out and his father went flying over it. He tripped and smacked his chin hard against the kitchen counter. As his father laid on the floor screaming, holding his chin, Peter went for the house phone. He snatched it up and gave it to his mother. “Call the police,” he told her urgently. That's when he felt his father grab him and throw him into the table.
Peter slid across the table and fell on the other side. It was a loud crash but the pain wasn't anything terrible. Peter had felt a lot worse in the last months. He began to regain his stance when his father flipped the table, launching it at his own son. Peter covered his face just in time as the table fell on him.

“You little bastard! You think you can do whatever you want. I don't think so, you piece of crap. Come on get up!” his father screamed. Peter slowly pushed the table off of him. He was getting angrier. He could feel his hatred towards his father building up like a volcano ready to erupt. He could feel his blood pumping. He didn't want to fight. Yet he was itching for a fight with this drunken fool. He flung the table to the side, dishes crashing all over.

Peter rushed his father, pushing him back. Despite Peter's increase in strength and stamina it was hard to fight a drunk still. Especially one that towered over him with at least hundred pounds on him and had years of getting beaten in bars. His father grabbed him by the hair. Peter let out a short yell before his father punched him in the gut. A strong right slam into the upper part of his stomach. Peter spit all over his father's shirt. “You think you can hurt me!? You little piece of waste!” His father slammed him against the counter. Peter felt his side burning as he fell to the ground.

If only he could summon his gloves. He could end this right now. His father wouldn't even stand a chance. He could throw a single fire ball in his dad's face and end his pitiful excuse of a life. He could do it with such ease. No one would even know. No one would even care. It would be the simplest thing in the world to do.

He couldn't do it, even if he wanted. As he laid there on the ground holding his side he still couldn't break the rules. He then felt another punch to the back of head. He let his whole body lay against the cold floor. He could feel himself going in and out. Black, then the living room. Black, then his father kicking him again in the side. Black, and then his mother screaming for help. He soon slipped into unconsciousness.
Nick sat on the bedside. Kelly slid into her pajamas as he set an alarm clock. They went to school together so they began stay over each other’s houses. They were planning on moving in with each other so their parents understood. To a point. They made sure to be very quiet at night. Not making too much sound. The rules of living with parents.

He put the covers over himself and watched as she put cream on her legs. “I put in an application to work at a local game store,” he said reading a text from his phone.

She looked up at him. “That's great, hun. I hope they call back.”

“Yeah, I figured it be a good place to start my work life. I mean a serious one and not one working under my pops.”

“You worked for your dad?”

“Yeah,” he began. He put his cell phone down. “I worked on my days off from school. Dad gave me a decent cut and I'd help with the construction of building whatever project they had. It was pretty fun. Least when I was hanging with the guys. My dad made me do double the work for half the pay. He wasn't the easiest to work with.”

She placed the bottle of cream on the counter and slipped into bed next to him. “It's just tough love. You know he cared.”

“I know. It was a good workout regardless.” Nick flexed his muscle. Without a shirt on it was easy to see how much the training helped. His entire body was curved, true definition of a full body work out. His arms were bigger than any kid his age should have been. His chest and abs outlined almost too perfect. He felt amazing.

“You know there are some perks to letting you work out so much after school.”
“Yeah, I knew you wanted me for this body,” he said, laughing and winking at her.

She outlined his body with her hand. He watched as she followed his entire chest up to his face. She placed her hand on his cheeks. “I love the person you are though more than any workout can give. I want you.”

This was the reason he loved being with her. She wanted him and nothing more. She never asked for anything he couldn't provide. So he kept close to her. Making sure she was always happy.

“I love you so much.”

“I know,” she said cheerfully.

“Hey!”

“I love you too, babe.” Her smile was so big it made him smile again.

“Is it weird, when I think of my future and I can only see it with you there?” he asked thoughtfully. He wasn't sure how to approach a situation such as this. Always wondering how she would react. Yet, he felt safe enough around her now to ask plainly.
“I think the same. Every move I make in my mind, you're there.” She leaned over to him, placing her head on his chest. “I think of where I'll live, where I'll work, what college I'll go too. It makes me worry about the future. Then I think of you. It all seems okay then. Like there's nothing we can't do together.” She used one finger to outline the tip of his chest down to his stomach.

“I don't ever want to be without you.” He held her head. He began brushing his fingers through her hair. He could feel how soft it was. “Will you stay with me no matter how bad things get?”

“What's going to get bad?”

“I'm just saying in the future. No matter the struggle, we'll fight through it. Figure out a solution to all our problems. Not just give up so easy.” His voice sounded strain. The horrible outcomes have been floating around his mind but he tried his best to push them away.

“I'll never give up on you...” she let the words linger in the air. They sat there in silence for a few minutes longer. “Never.”