Generation Lost (Gray Wolf Security #17)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“I’m telling you, Gaspar. I’ve seen your father do a lot of amazing things, but he had that man scared straight. He could barely move, barely breathe. I think he meant to hurt your father or me when he arrived, but he just walked away and said we’re done.”

Gaspar looked at his brothers as they prepared to board the boat. He shook his head, his chest swelling with pride. His father was unlike anyone on earth. Or at least anyone that he knew of.

“Gaspar! Gaspar!” yelled Code. “Before y’all leave, you need to know that one of our protagonists has left the building.”

“Xi,” said Gaspar and Grant together.

“How did you know that? I just heard because I had his passport flagged. He left to return to China with no return date expected.”

“Thanks, Code,” nodded Gaspar. “If we’re not back in three days, send someone to search for us. Our trackers are on, comms have been tested and are working, and the boat is loaded for a world war. Let’s just hope we don’t need to start one.”

“I’ll be on twenty-four-seven with Sly,” nodded Code. “Be careful.”

“Gaspar? Before you leave,” said Matthew, walking toward his son, “I’d like to give something to the boys.”

“Pops, we need to get going.”

“Five minutes, Gaspar,” smiled Matthew.

His son nodded as the huge group of men stepped forward. Matthew walked up to each one, kissing their forehead as was his practice, smiling at them, telling them how much they were loved and how proud he and Irene were of them. Every man was given a medal for Saint Michael, the patron saint of the military, called upon to protect during battle.

He gently placed each one around their necks, holding their hands between his own. When he turned to Gaspar, he smiled up at his son.

“Do you still have yours?” he asked.

“I still have it, Pops. I never take it off,” he said.

“Be safe and come back to your family. You’re needed, but those girls on that boat right now need you more. Get to them before they’re lost.”

“We will, Pops. We love you.”

“I know,” he smiled, nodding at him. Matthew watched each of the men board the specially designed boat. With unmatched speed, durability, stability, and weaponry, no one would ever see it coming. As always, Trak was the last to board.

“Trak? Remember the warrior you are, son.” Trak smiled at Matthew, his own grandfather standing beside the man. They watched until the boat was out of the bayou and on her way.

“They will return, Matthew.”

“I know, Nathan, but as you know, it doesn’t stop us from worrying.” Nathan nodded.

“Perhaps a walk would help,” he smiled.

Matthew laughed as they turned and headed toward the gardens. Franklin and the other male ghosts joined him, meeting near the hydrangeas for their usual meeting of the angelic and ghostly minds.

“I do believe they’re solving the world’s problems,” said Martha to Irene.

“Oh, I have no doubt. I think we need to get ready for them young women that will be brought back. With our guests gone back to their homes, we got room at the Sugar Lodge now.”

With space for all the men below deck comfortably, they worked on preparing spaces for the young women they expected to rescue. Most would be scared, dirty, and they had no clue what kind of medical conditions they would see.

Before they left, clean clothing was placed on the boat, along with medications, first aid equipment, and food. Gibbie handed each of the men a plate of Mama Irene’s jambalaya loaded with chicken and sausage, the rice cooked perfectly giving them the energy they would need.

“Everyone clear on their job?” asked Nine.

“Clear.”

Trak was seated in the corner, sharpening multiple knives and placing them on his body. He always preferred silence if possible. Coming through the entry of the lowest deck, they all looked shocked to see some familiar faces.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t want to be part of this?” smirked Zeke. “I never refuse a job where I can be beside my brother from another tribe.” Trak only shook his head, a sly grin on his face.

“I knew you were here. I could smell your cologne.”

“I’m not wearing cologne. That’s my natural beauty,” he said, slapping his leg to move over. Titus, Eli, Trevor, Noah, and Skull smiled at the group.

“Fuck, we’re not gonna have enough food,” smiled Miller.

“We’ll make do,” laughed Skull. “You bastards need the help. Nineteen men are better than thirteen any day of the week. We expect twenty-seven crew members, twenty to thirty women on board. We’ll manage them just fine.”

“Always glad for the additional help,” said Nine. “Noah, Titus, Max, Skull, Wilson, Rory, and Eli, watch your fucking heads on the bulkhead. Those fucking skulls of yours will sound like a damn church bell throughout the ship.”

“Hurtful,” frowned Noah. The others stared at him a moment, not used to the serious man having a sense of humor.

“Big boy is funny,” laughed Zeke. “It only took thirty years.”

“I have always been funny. Much like my friend Trak, I do not feel the need to advertise it.” That had Zeke rolling with laughter and the others joining in.

“Alright, children. Settle down,” said Nine. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes before that ship comes into view. Put your stealth suits on. Get ready to have wet underwear.”

“Yes, Da-ad.” The sound echoed on the boat, and Nine almost laughed, loving the sound of it.

“Fuck, you guys are annoying. But even annoying, stay alive.”