Gabriel's Sacrifice (The Scrapman Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  Reader’s Comments

  Gabriel’s Watch,

  Book 1of the Scrapman Trilogy

  "Gabriel's Watch is not like your average day dystopian, this one has an untouched and utterly unique story line."

  – Alexandra Harris (goodreads)

  "Gabriel's Watch is unlike any book I have ever read. The premise is entirely original - a refreshing turn of events in today's literary world of zombies, vampires, and werewolves."

  – Tracy (goodreads)

  "Poetically written, this novel winds together science fiction, drama, action, and romance. Its unique and fascinating story line is truly unforgettable."

  – Danielle Tara Evans (goodreads)

  "This is a FANTASTIC read! Noah Fregger is a really talented author who has created a dark world that will pull you in and then spin you around and around leaving you wanting more and more! I was glued to every page and left stunned in the end. Gabriel's Watch is a morbid roller coaster ride that will tug at your heartstrings!"

  – Lucy Hayes (goodreads)

  "If you are looking for a Science Fiction story that doesn't hold true to the boring stereotypes that drive most of us away from the genre, this is the story. Not only do you get to see incredible feats in depth of character but you also are thrust forward into a world of amazing creation."

  – Angelica (goodreads)

  "Whenever you think you know what's going on, you find out you never did."

  – S.E. Dee (bluebicblog)

  “This book was captivating. The author has a wonderful mind and shows the creative ability to keep me so intensely occupied by the story and it's tale that it's kept me up two nights in a row reading.”

  – Michael McCombs (amazon)

  “Rarely does a book capture my mind entirely; and never does a book employ my mind and heart. Gabriel’s Watch did both. Wow. I cried –big ol’ crocodile tears, I cheered, and I rejoiced at multiple points throughout the book. It was just sooooooo good.”

  – Jslim (amazon)

  “READ THIS BOOK! It's fantastic, and I can't wait for the 2nd book of the trilogy. There's nothing not to like. The writing is very well done, the plot is engaging, the characters are solidly built, and the story has twists in it that may give you whip lash.”

  – Neulen D. Raisley (amazon)

  Gabriel’s Sacrifice

  Book 2: The Scrapman Trilogy

  Part one: Rise of the Bogeyman

  Noah Fregger

  T-16 Publishing

  Palo Alto, California

  Gabriel’s Sacrifice

  Book Two: The scrapman trilogy

  Part One: Rise of the Bogeyman.

  By Noah Fregger

  © 2014 Noah Fregger

  First Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. This is a fictional work, which takes place among imaginary people. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental

  Dedication

  For my wife, whom, despite every stitch of my imperfection, never ceases to stand beside me.

  Table Of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Author’s Notes

  Prelude: Five-Finger Discount

  Chapter One: The Rifleman

  Chapter Two: The Pale-One

  Chapter Three: Friggin’ Ninj a

  Chapter Four: Friend

  Chapter Five: You’re Adeamyn

  Chapter Six: General Zaroff

  Chapter Seven: Loose Cannon

  Chapter Eight: Trojan Horse

  Chapter Nine: Breakfast

  Chapter Ten: Regards

  Chapter Eleven: Self-Inflicted, Apocalyptic

  Chapter Twelve: Humble Consolation

  Chapter Thirteen: New purpose

  Chapter Fourteen: Trick of the Sun

  Chapter Fifteen: The Bogeyman

  Chapter Sixteen: Houdini

  Chapter Seventeen: Hunt Her

  Chapter Eighteen: Won’t Feel a Thing

  Chapter Nineteen: Far Better Than Fine

  Chapter Twenty: Check Mate

  Chapter Twenty-One: The Bait

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Breath Enough to Scream

  Chapter Twenty-Three: The Hammer

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Back-Stabbing Constituents

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Scooby Doo

  Chapter Twenty-Six: The Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seventeen: Enemies Closer

  Chapter Twenty-Eighteen: Change the Future

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Echo

  Chapter Thirty: Just Reward

  Chapter Thirty-One: So This is Perfection

  Chapter Thirty-Two: The Ghoul

  Chapter Thirty-Thirty: Death … Redefined

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Always Been Your Purpose

  Author’s Bio

  Book 2: The Scrapman Trilogy

  Chapter One: The Silhouette

  Chapter Two: Garuda

  Chapter Three: Fortress of Destitute

  Chapter Four: Nice Ring to It

  Chapter Five: The Door

  Acknowledgements

  Foremost, I'd like to thank the lovely muses in my life, my wife, Kristina, and daughter, Lila. You both live with an honorary "space cadet." Thanks for your patience (which I thoroughly test) every time you need to repeat yourselves, due to my wandering thoughts.

  Thanks to my mom, Mary-Ann, who continues to lend me her intellect (on which I ricochet my numerous ideas). You're as much an asset as ever.

  Thanks to my editor and grandfather, Brad Fregger, the man that trudges through this thing every step of the way. Again, it's your passion, excitement, and keen perspective that helps drive my creative side.

  A huge thanks to my friend and fellow author, Nicholas Sansbury Smith. It was your constant encouragement that ultimately got me back on the writing wagon, showing me that every week I spent without a word on the page was "a waste of time and talent." Couldn't have said it better myself.

  Thanks to Sarah at Sprinkles On Top Studios for creating me this killer cover! It's the wrapping in which this roller coaster gets around.

  And, lastly, thanks to the readers for all your support and kind words. It's a true gift, seeing my story have an impact on you, rejoicing when the emotion I've grafted into it gets reciprocated. That, by far, is my favorite part. Thanks so much for stumbling upon this little world I've created.

  Subscribe to my newsletter at (News from Noah Fregger) to stay in the scrapman loop!

  Please feel free to contact me with any questions or if you’d like notice when the next installment of the Trilogy is complete: [email protected]

  Author’s Notes

  This sequel has been a long time coming; and I appreciate your patience thus far. Considering the depth and length of story I needed to squeeze between these pages, I've decided to split this second installment into two separate parts (two novels, in essence).

  If you're new to this trilogy, I highly recommend picking up the first book, Gabriel's Watch, before continuing on. Although this is a prequel and stands fine on its own, I fear it will ruin many of the surprises I've left for you in the first installment. To rob you of that experience would be most tragic.

  For the rest who are up to speed, telling this side of the story is essential before I bring you book three; and it will also answer many questions in the process.

  So enjoy this darker side of the story, one that Miles was unable to tell to its fullest. And, at the end of Part
One, you’ll find that I’ve delivered the first five chapters of Part Two.

  Without further ado, I bring you Gabriel's Sacrifice, Book Two of the Scrapman Trilogy, Part one: Rise of the Bogeyman.

  Vengeance is just:

  Justly we rid the earth of human fiends

  Who carry hell for pattern in their souls.

  But in high vengeance there is noble scorn:

  It tortures not the torturer, nor gives

  Iniquitous payment for iniquity.

  The great avenging angel does not crawl

  To kill the serpent with a mimic fang;

  He stands erect, with sword of keenest edge

  That slays like lightning.

  GEORGE ELIOT

  The Spanish Gypsy

  Prelude:

  Five-Finger Discount

  The queen of diamonds–that same vacant expression. The cardstock on which she was printed had grown oily over time, the greasy remnants of every person to ever handle her. She was not a welcomed addition to the hand the hunter was currently working on. He lifted his eyes to view his three companions. If in a similar predicament, they were doing well to conceal it.

  Jackson matched the hunter’s gaze, offering a toothy grin. “Your move there, Boss.”

  “Indeed … ” The hunter hesitated. “Gonna have to sit this one out, Fellas.” He placed his lousy hand face down on the wooden table; but that humble action was met only by the sound of a withdrawn firearm.

  “State your business!”

  The hunter looked up to discover Jackson pointing the weapon off into the distance.

  “Stay where you are and state your business!”

  The hunter followed its angle and found a man approaching them. The man stopped and raised his hands slowly.

  “I was told I could have a few minutes inside your establish-ment … for the right price.”

  Jackson looked to the hunter. “Wudya think, Boss?”

  “Let him come,” he said. “Let’s see what he brought us.”

  “Well, come on then!” Jackson shouted.

  The man obliged, lowering his hands and coming to join them. Tucked beneath his arm, the hunter noticed something wrapped in cloth, its end moistened with something resembling blood.

  “That’s far enough.” The hunter rose from his chair. “Lay it down on the pavement and open it.”

  The man dropped to a knee and did as was instructed of him, then stood as the hunter approached to examine it.

  “Interesting.” The hunter smiled. “I see you’ve come for the five-finger discount.” The thing was covered in reddish skin, its fingernails undercoated with dirt and grime. The man brought him the hand of a hybrid, the very thing the hunter had been requesting … but something was off. “And you killed her yourself?”

  The stranger nodded, a bead of perspiration venturing down his brow. He was younger than any patron to arrive before, just a teenager–features average and forgettable. His auburn hair and eyes, in correlation with his slightly overweight frame, made this young man the equivalent of any barista or fast food employee to ever skip the hunter’s mind. It was his youth, however, that set him apart in this scenario.

  “Well, I’m afraid you were misinformed,” the hunter stated. “I require a right hand, but you’ve brought me a left. I’m afraid you’ll have to go back and cut off the other hand.”

  The young man shifted his weight nervously. “Any way you can cut me a break?”

  “Cut you a break?” The hunter chuckled. “Was she hard to kill?”

  The young man nodded. “She was fast.”

  “I see.” The hunter looked over his shoulder, back at his men. They were waiting on him. This stranger was earning their undivided attention. They looked on, steadfast–three at the table and another six along the eastern wall. “I’ll give you two minutes, then–for two items.”

  The young stranger, seemingly wise enough to know he had no room to negotiate, agreed.

  The hunter scooped up the appendage and beckoned the new patron to follow. Jackson and the others met him with untrusting eyes. They were about as exclusive as a pack of wolves.

  “Calm yourselves, Fellas,” he requested. “We’re all on the same side.”

  Opening a glass door, the hunter allowed the young man to enter the building. Darkness dwelled there, thick and viscous, so the hunter cast it out with the switch of a flashlight. The young man yelped in surprise as a woman became instantly visible before them, blood trickling from the edges of her lips.

  “Holy shit!”

  And the men outside erupted at his expense.

  “What’s the matter?” the hunter asked with a smirk. “You don’t like zombies?”

  “I just … wasn’t expecting a poster of one.”

  The hunter nodded, tapping the picture of the undead girl. “I used to love that show–watched every seasons of it.” He looked back at the young man, who still seemed a bit jittery. “I used to look forward to the apocalypse every Sunday night.”

  “And now we’re living the dream.”

  “No zombies though.”

  “Just aliens.”

  “And they were some tall bastards, too.” They passed the poster, along with the final threshold. “Alright.” He handed the stranger the flashlight. “You got two minutes to find your two items. If you want clothes, you head straight back; food, you go right, past the registers. You’ll find batteries there, too. I’ll meet you back outside in two minutes.”

  The young man nodded.

  “Go.”

  Two minutes? The timing was tight, but it was enough to work with. Ethan allowed the man his directional spiel. It seemed like something he did with all who came baring the proper payment. But Ethan didn’t really need it. He and this department store went way back. He could probably switch off the flashlight and make his way through the utter blackness just fine.

  Ethan swept the light across each familiar aisle, dodging items that were either dropped or discarded. Unlike the barren shelves of other stores in the city, these shelves remained remarkably stocked. The store had been preserved in the wake of the war–claimed, guarded and protected. It was only opened to the rest of the survivors just recently, due to their hatred of the hybrid species. And as news of the offer swept through the city, a great many seemed to be accepting it.

  Five items for a right hand–proof of death–a rather macabre form of currency.

  Ethan headed straight for where he knew the food to be. There he gathered a tub of powdered Gatorade–something to make the rain water taste substantially better, at least for a time. He then helped himself to a bag of Oreos, tearing it open and shoving a handful into his mouth. They were slightly stale, but still sensational.

  Nearing the end of his second minute, Ethan grabbed another unopened package of the Nabisco cookies and started his trip back to the entrance, being sure to clear his teeth and lips of any chocolate debris–the telltale marks of his defiance.

  His true defiance, however, was not in the rebellious consumption of cookies, but rather the very way he’d earned his entrance in the first place.

  Ethan didn’t kill the hybrid girl. Ethan could never kill anything.

  At the cunning age of sixteen, his life to date was best described by various RPGs and pizza deliveries. Without the wherewithal of a predator, Ethan still considered himself clever enough to play the part, a sheep in wolves clothing, if you will.

  He’d found the hybrid’s dead body, her right hand already severed by whomever killed her. So Ethan took her left, and threw up twice while doing it. But his deception was well worth the prize he currently carried, and well worth the dual regurgitation to get it.

  He switched off the flashlight when the sun illuminated enough of his surroundings, then stepped outside. There he found the assembly of men again. But this time they were not engaged in a game of cards, as when he’d arrived. They were all facing him–silent and patient.

  “Find what you need?” the leader finally spok
e.

  Ethan nodded, visibly nervous, revealing his two items with shaky hands.

  “Pat him down, Jackson.” The leader squinted. “Let’s make sure he’s not playing us for a fool.”

  The man called Jackson approached him–the same man with the gun. Ethan raised his arms, allowing him to inspect his legs and midsection.

  “Speaking of fool,” the leader continued, “I was looking at your hand and noticed something odd.” He lifted the hybrid hand, and uncurling the fingers, revealed a puncture wound at the center of its palm. “Why did you stab her here?”

  Ethan shrugged. “I didn’t. She musta done it herself somehow.”

  The men laughed while the leader merely smiled, a smile that only increased the uneasiness brewing in Ethan.

  “Is that so?” he teased. “It would be hard for her to do that … when she’s already dead, right?”

  Shit. “What?”

  “This puncture was made post-mortem, Idiot.” The leader tossed the hand to the side. “So at what point are you gonna start telling us the truth?”

  Fuck. “I am.”

  “Really?” The leader tilted his head slightly. “What’s your name, Kid?”

  “Ethan.”

  “And how old are you, Ethan?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Just a little younger than my son.” The leader stretched his arm toward a boy on his left; and there was a definite resemblance between the two. He surely was the spitting image of his father at the same age–a walking representation of his narcissism. They were a sickeningly handsome, blue-eyed, square-jawed pair. The boy looked at Ethan, disapproval hardening his perfect features. “But, unlike your father,” the leader continued, “I taught him honesty and integrity.”

  Ethan said nothing–thought it better to keep silent.

  “But that’s fine. You don’t have to tell us the truth. I can tell it for you.” He took a step closer, pointing back to the reddish hand. “You didn’t kill this hybrid, as you’ve claimed. You found her body after she was already dead and took her left hand, because the right was taken by the one who actually did the slaying–the same person who left the puncture wound in the palm.”