“Easy. They don’t know you are here,” Constantine said. “We will play it off like we are still looking for you so nobody gets suspicious.”

  “Basically, we continue searching and go to this meeting like we don’t know anything,” Bartholomew added.

  “Exactly,” Constantine said, giving Bartholomew a proud look.

  “Looks like we got some shopping to do,” Bob told the group, then he handed everyone a mug of hot chocolate.

  “You better get going. We don’t have a lot of time,” Constantine told them.

  “We are going to inspect the lab,” Eugene said as he headed towards the door. Bob, Second, and Fourth followed closely behind, while Bartholomew and Constantine went to the computer area.

  Eugene left Second and Fourth at Reapers since they were working on a few tonics for the werewolves. Their experimenting had produced some pretty neat tricks the wolves would never see coming. Bob had made several trips to the lab to ensure they had everything they needed.

  They had even a few FaceTime chats with Seventh to get pointers on their new techniques. He was so eager to help, and Eugene couldn’t have been more surprised. He’d never had this much support from his mentors.

  Needless to say, the goal had shifted. He didn’t care about the werewolves disrespecting his team any longer. He cared about not letting people down, showing his people that he could keep it together and make them proud.

  Reapers was well equipped and at times it had better supplies than his own lab. Eugene was sure that was all Bartholomew’s doing. Unfortunately, with three scientists working non-stop, even Bartholomew had a hard time keeping up with the stock. He needed canisters, Fourth needed bug repellent, and Second was short on gummy bears. Eugene decided it was safer not too ask about the last one. Sometimes, when it came to his peeps, ignorance was bliss.

  When Bob volunteered to go on the shopping run, Eugene went with him. He was having a great time bonding with his people, but after hours of it, Eugene was burnt out. Bob drove them to Academy’s. According to Bob, he had a few items he needed as well.

  They drove in silence to the store. Not an uncomfortable silence, but the kind of silence enjoyed with a great friend. Bob also had an uncanny ability to give people space when they needed it, which Eugene was more than thankful for right then.

  “Do you think this is a bad idea?” Eugene asked Bob when they pulled in a parking space.

  “They need to be stopped and nobody else can do it but us,” Bob told Eugene before turning the truck off.

  “I’m asking all of you to risk your life to do this. I want them to pay for what they did to those kids and what they are doing to the town, but I don’t want any of my friends to get hurt in the process.”

  “Would you prefer if we walk away and let them run amuck?” Bob asked. “Eugene, they know where to find you. They know the stuff you guys can make. Now that they got a taste of power, they are not going to stop.”

  Eugene was processing Bob’s words when Shorty came to a screeching stop next to them.

  “He is a menace. You know that, right?” Eugene said right before Shorty got out of the truck.

  “Oh, trust me, I know,” Bob told Eugene. “I tried to stop the boss, but you know Constantine. Once his mind is made up, there is no going back. Good news, though. Under careful supervision, Shorty is a huge asset.” Bob got out of his truck and Eugene followed suit.

  Shorty had the Triplets in tow and they looked ready for war. The Triplets all wore green camouflage while Shorty had a matching set in black. Shorty even sported a black bandana, making him look like a small Ice Cube.

  “Big Bob, it’s almost time!” Shorty told Bob. “We need to teach those punks a lesson.” At his words, the Triplets nodded like bobble-head dolls.

  “You were saying, Eugene?” Bob asked Eugene with a smirk.

  “Do you really think this a good idea?” Eugene asked again.

  Shorty’s eyes widened. “E, we can’t let people run all over us. It’s about time we go on the offensive and lay down the law,” Shorty told him, and the Triplets mumbled sounds of agreements.

  “Shorty, Los Lobos are an abnormally large pack. People could get hurt.” Which was his biggest worry. Eugene had no idea what it would take to handle a pack of werewolves, but he had a feeling they didn’t have the manpower.

  “News flash, E. People are already getting hurt. Some have died, and even more will if we don’t stop them.” Shorty planted his hands on his hips and jutted his chin out.

  “Shorty has a point. Too many people have been hurt already and we can’t keep running around stabbing people with meds to help them,” Bob told Eugene. “Besides, this was your plan. Don’t get cold feet now.”

  “I know. I’m just afraid we don’t have enough people to handle this,” Eugene admitted, his biggest fear being voiced. “With their numbers, this is going to be a suicide mission.”

  “Don’t even worry. We got this,” Shorty told Eugene before he turned to the Triplets. “You know what to do.”

  “You got it, Boss,” the three replied in unison, then they took off, but each went a different direction.

  “You do know that is really creepy.” Eugene pointed at the Triplets. “What exactly are they going to do? And why do they look like the pirates in the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie?” His eyes stayed on the Triplets, sure all they needed was to morph into skeletons and they would look identical to the characters in the movie.

  “Don’t judge. You said we needed people, so they are going to recruit,” Shorty told him.

  “Do we really know people crazy enough to join us?” Eugene asked, starting to wonder what kind of recruitment power Shorty had.

  “Crazy? Never,” Bob told him. “What we have is a lot of people looking for a purpose. Defending their town is as good as any.” His tone sounded sure, and when his chest puffed out, he looked more than confident.

  “People problem fixed. Now what?” Shorty asked.

  “We got some shopping to do,” Eugene told Shorty.

  “Here. This is your list,” Bob told Shorty as he gave him a piece of paper with a long list of items.

  “Why do I get a list?” Shorty asked Bob, his eyes on the paper.

  “Because you are here and we need to hurry. Unless you have other stuff to do today?” Bob asked Shorty, giving him a hard look.

  Eugene had to giggle. Bob was the only person who could intimidate Shorty. Well, maybe Constantine, too, but he wasn’t here. And when Shorty didn’t reply, Eugene knew it was because he didn’t have a job other than working for Reapers.

  “Hey, sacrifices have to be made for the good of the team,” Shorty announced, trying to sound humble.

  “Glad you could spare us a minute. Let’s go,” Bob told Shorty and took off towards the store.

  “Do you think Big Bob is going to feed us before the big event?” Shorty whispered to Eugene. “It’s not right to head to battle on an empty stomach.”

  “That is a really good question,” Eugene told Shorty, even though he didn’t want to admit he was already hungry again. “I hope he does. I would hate to get my ass kicked and be starving to death.”

  “Oh good, glad we agree on that,” Shorty told Eugene and walked a bit faster to catch up with Bob. “Hey Big Bob, E has something he wants to ask you,” Shorty shouted across the parking lot.

  “What is it Eugene?” Bob asked without slowing down. Eugene had visions of choking Shorty in the parking lot.

  “Oh nothing really. Just wondering if we could have dinner before going to war,” Eugene told him, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

  “Of course.” Bob said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I got two lasagnas in the oven now. Hence the reason we must hurry. I don’t want them to burn.” He moved a little faster.

  “What? Why didn’t you say that before?” Shorty told Bob and took off at a full sprint.

  Eugene couldn’t believe it. He had never seen Shorty run, definitely never at a full sprint. He was a fast little guy for his age. Eugene had to jog to keep up with both men. Shorty was on a mission from God. The food God, at least. That man would do anything for food.

  With Shorty’s new inspiration, the shopping adventure at Academy’s took less than thirty minutes. They each had a shopping cart packed with stuff. Bob had given Eugene another list, too. He had no clue what Bob had planned, but they bought everything from nets, to grills, to all sorts of fishing gear, and even hunting equipment. This was the strangest war Eugene had ever been a part of. Then again, he had never been to war in his life. The extent of his experience with violence came from being bullied at school, but that stopped after he nailed the bullies’ lockers with stinky bombs. Nobody could ever prove it had been him, but the kids knew he had done it, which made him the new nerd super hero. Nobody messed with him after that.

  “We need mines,” Eugene told Bob as they passed each other in one of the aisles.

  “Way ahead of you,” Bob told him, grabbing a couple of rat traps.

  “What are we going to do with those?” Eugene asked, nudging his head towards the traps.

  “Fourth is planning to adjust them so when they step on them, a strong sleeping gas will be released, Bob said with a wicked grin.

  “Sleep gas or nerve agent? It is Fourth we are talking about,” Eugene asked, his tone filled with concern.

  “Just sleep. Constantine explained to him, twice, how killing them was out of the question,” Bob told Eugene.

  “Did he listen?” Eugene knew how stubborn Fourth could be.

  “Only after Constantine explained that any deaths caused by their tricks would have to be explained and reported to Death,” Bob said with a grin. “He also added that Fourth would be the one doing the reporting.”

  “Ouch. That’s low, even for Constantine.” Eugene felt sorry for Fourth.

  “Low, but also effective,” Bob said. “Are you done? We need to go.” He looked over his list again.

  “I got one more thing,” Eugene told Bob and took off to find sunscreen. He had no idea what they were planning to do with that, but at this rate, he didn’t care.

  In no time, they were at the register paying for all their stuff. The poor cashier wasn’t sure what to say about their diverse purchases. Bob paid with Reapers’ business card. Isis had told Eugene they had unlimited credit on their cards and everyone had one. Eugene was grateful for it, since it expedited their shopping process.

  When they finished, they almost ran out of the store. Time was of the essence and they didn’t have much left, so they needed to get back as soon as possible.

  Reapers was buzzing with excitement. The Triplets had done an amazing job recruiting and there were people everywhere, although it made Eugene wonder what they had been offered to show up.

  Someone had rearranged it to accommodate the new influx of people. The gym had become Bob’s command center, and he’d tacked up a map of the park and the surrounding area. Captains were assigned per location, and each group was given a small platoon of troops. Eugene had never been in the military but he was pretty sure this was how they ran missions.

  Bob did “rock drills” with each platoon to make sure they knew what they were doing. Eugene had no clue what a rock drill was, though it looked more like role playing. Bob would place each person in their location, and they would simulate their movements like it was a real attack. It impressed him, but it also confused him. How could anyone remember all those moves? He had no idea how Bob was doing it because he remembered all their moves, plus traps they had set up way earlier.

  But according to Constantine, the werewolves were going to scout the place as well, so their traps had to be well concealed.

  Bartholomew was busy as well. He was in the lab that was back to being the arms room, issuing specific weapons to each platoon. The sharp shooters were with Bob, being placed on the roofs of the buildings near the park. They’d practiced before they went in the shooting range, using a long-range simulation program. Hopefully that prepared them, otherwise it could lead to Eugene being a potential friendly-fire target.

  Everyone had a job this evening. Constantine was working with Second and Fourth in their assembly line. They were spraying each person down with their version of scent eliminator. Constantine had the pleasure of inspecting. According to Constantine, his sense of smell was five times more accurate, and even stronger than the werewolves. That was really scary since a normal cat could already smell fourteen times stronger than a human. Wolves’ sense of smell was about one hundred times stronger. Eugene did the math in his head. If all the facts he had were true, Constantine could smell a person at least three miles away.

  “Why do you look constipated over there?” Constantine asked Eugene.

  “I’m still processing how accurate your sense of smell is,” Eugene admitted.

  “Don’t. It will blow your mind and give you a headache,” Constantine told him. “Fortunately for me, that gift didn’t come all at once or I would have passed out. Thankfully, I’m able to control it now. Living in this confined space with a bunch of humans could get disgusting fast.” He scrunched his nose up.

  “I don’t know if I ever want to imagine that.” Chills ran down Eugene’s arms. The idea of smelling every body odor, every release of gas…it made him shudder. It also made him want to puke.

  “Breathe, child. It is too early for you to be passing out,” Constantine told him. “By the way, what are you supposed to be doing?” He narrowed his eyes at Eugene.

  “Shorty and I are supposed to be the ones delivering the goods, since they know me and all. Bob sent me over here to get ready,” Eugene explained.

  “We got less than forty-five minutes and your plan for getting ready is standing around.” Constantine’s mouth fell open and he shook his head. “Boy, get your ass in that room and go get changed,” he growled.

  “Change into what?” Eugene asked as he scrunched his forehead and looked around.

  “I don’t care. Superman, Batman, or Shaft. You name it, just pick one. But you are not going outside to a show down representing us while you look like that.” Constantine pointed at Eugene’s lab coat.

  Eugene was pretty dirty. He had stains all over his jacket and his hands were covered in some strange-looking blue slim. Luckily there wasn’t a mirror around. He had a feeling his face looked even worse.

  “Eugene, we got this assembly under control. Go shower and get ready. You are the face of this operation,” Constantine told him. “We left you clothes and some gear in your room. Hurry up.”

  Eugene felt a little lost, out of place, and like he wasn’t pulling his weight. Unfortunately, he knew Constantine was right. Eugene had seen Isis get ready for a mission, and her appearance played as much of a role as her skills. Isis looked like a cross between Lara Croft and Trinity from The Matrix. That thought gave him a brilliant idea: he was going to be Morpheus, or maybe Blade. It didn’t matter which, he just needed to look smooth and lethal. Eugene ran to his room to shower with a new focus.

  Bob’s apartment was loud. Eugene had no idea who was playing music, but Barry White screamed from the speaker system. With a smile, he ran to his room, then headed for the bathroom, but he stopped in his tracks when he spotted the clothes Constantine had left on his bed.

  Eugene had no words. He had expected a suit, but this was the suit of a life time. It was a custom made William Westmacott Ultimate Bespoke. That little number was over seventy-five-thousand dollars. Eugene was afraid to get closer until he spotted a pair of House of Testoni shoes. Last time he checked, the starting price for those babies was thirty thousand. Not the most practical shoes for battling werewolves, but he sure looked good.

  Eugene sucked in a breath. His clothes had to cost more than some houses in Texas. Eugene had an admiration for classic suits and great shoes, but he never thought he would have the opportunity to wear one. Isis had mentioned Constantine had more money than God and the most expensive taste in the world. She hadn’t been kidding. Forget Morpheus or Blade, Eugene was going to be channeling his inner Bond—James Bond that was.

  “Yes!” Eugene shouted to himself. “If I’m going down, at least I’m going to do it in style.” Excitement quickened his steps as he rushed to the bathroom. He couldn’t wait to try on his clothes. This had to be a dream and he was living it.

  Eugene stepped out of the apartment at eight forty looking like royalty. He even walked with a swagger that would put most models to shame. Reapers was deserted, except for the regular residents.

  Bartholomew stood next to Bob, Constantine, and Shorty, and his eyes found Eugene first. The boy genius let out a long whistle.

  “Looking fly, E.” Shorty told him. He was also wearing an expensive suit, just not to the level of Eugene’s.

  “Feeling fly, Shorty,” Eugene replied. “You are looking pretty stylish yourself.”

  Shorty grinned, then they gave each other a high five.

  “I told you I knew about measurements,” Bartholomew told Constantine.

  “Not bad. Not bad at all.” Constantine was sitting on top of the DeathMobile. That was Isis’s name for Death’s Mustang. It was hard to say if it was greenish, yellow, or just a pale puke color. The description of Death’s horse from the book of Revelation came to him, and he grinned. Nobody could say Death didn’t have a sense of humor.

  “One more time. Shorty, you will be driving Eugene in the DeathMobile,” Bob said, jolting Eugene out of his thoughts.

  “What? Are you crazy?” Eugene shouted.

  “Eugene, you are representing the Horsemen. They need to know we are a unified front,” Constantine said. “What better way to make a statement than to have one of Pestilence’s Interns arrive in Death’s horse? It’s all about symbolism, baby.” He grinned like the mad hatter.

  “Shorty, if you put a scratch on this baby, we are both dead,” Eugene told Shorty as serious as he could.

  “Oh trust me, E. We are driving down there like this car is in a funeral parade. I’m not taking any chances,” Shorty told Eugene.

 

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