The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set by Ernest Dempsey (non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

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 looked 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