PEER Services Prey for a Madman

By Scott Rothra

“I do not wish to see this man in my courtroom or any courtroom ever again!” So, with the blessings of a Federal Judge, The support of multiple federal agencies and local law enforcement, PEERS Services set about locating and executing "by whatever means necessary" a sociopathic killer by the name of Eugene Melville. Eugene is hiding in a Southern swamp known as 'Melville Valley' - a forbidding place filled with deadly booby traps, secret camps and a community sworn to protect him.
PEER Services (Private investigation, Errand, Escort, and Retrieval Services), is a family of adventuresome characters who thrive on adrenaline. Ken and Derek are brothers, highly trained and have a gift for their jobs. Ken, known, as a Guardian, and Derek, known as a Ghost, find creative use for their various talents as they fight to survive the hellish world of this madman.
“...A ruthless killer armed with high powered weapons, booby-traps, and a small army with a full week’s head start? What can go wrong...?” It was a lucrative job. But Ken and Derek quickly learn that surviving to collect this paycheck will mean successfully testing every skill they posses. Let the adventure begin...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott Rothra
• Release date: Dec 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465987051

Scott Rothra

Greetings! My name is Scott Rothra. Thank you for reading my first book. I hope that it was as enjoyable to read as it was to write. As a native of Arizona, I've spent my life roaming the Southwest and its wide open spaces. Folks here are a fiercely independent bunch. Skills such as constructing a weekend cabin out of pallet wood, to building a go-cart out a hospital bed are common place. And camping, shooting, hunting, fishing, boating, racing, dancing, and singing are rights of passage for every kid. But the most honored skill is the ability to craft a good story. Next to a campfire is the perfect place for telling tale. I remember as a child, sitting in hunting camp listening to my father and uncles spin yarns of their childhood and share adventures of the past. I’m not sure if it was the backdrop of the vast Arizona skies or black and endless mountain woods, but the stories always seemed to get more exciting with every telling. The fish were always bigger, the shots longer, the race faster, the beer more plentiful, and the girls more beautiful with each telling of the taie. And so, my superheroes were born. Not in comic books or movie theaters, but in the adventures of my own family. I cheerfully extended these inspirational stories to my kids and gladly added adventures, fact and fictitious, of my own. That is what led me to writing this book. I turned a wild campfire tale into a Christmas present. It was great fun. And I had to promise more adventures to come. Again, I hope that you enjoyed this first of, what I hope, are many campfire tales to come. I’m also sure that you’ll agree, while superheroes may seem bigger than life, they pale in comparison to the characters that inspire them. “To my family, you’ll always be my heroes...” Sincerely, sar ~~~~~~~

Book preview

PEER Services

Prey for a Madman

By Scott Rothra

Smashwords Edition

Published by

Scott Rothra on Smashwords

PEER Services Prey for a Madman

Copyright 2011 Scott Rothra

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

To my family and especially my boys, always remember, you are always my heros.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons (living or dead), or places, events or locales is coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and fictitious.

Adult Reading Material

PEER Services

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - The Job

Chapter 2 - Fun and Games

Chapter 3 - Meeting Day

Chapter 4 - The Ride

Chapter 5 - The Game of Tag

Chapter 6 - First Contact

Chapter 7 - The Kitchen

Chapter 8 - The Clean-up

Chapter 9 - Revelations

Chapter 10 - To Catch a Ghost

Chapter 11 - Chance Encounter

Chapter 12 - Counter Assault

Chapter 13 - Remodeling the Uncle’s Cabin

Chapter 14 - The Cellar

Chapter 15 - Counter Strike

Chapter 16 - The Plan Unfolds

Chapter 17 - The Labyrinth

Chapter 18 - A History Lesson

Chapter 19 - Hometown Game

Chapter 20 - The Set up

Chapter 21 - Night of Apocalypse

Chapter 22 - The Escape

Chapter 23 - The Rescue

Chapter 24 - Night of the Banshee

Chapter 25 - Let’s Finish This

Chapter 26 - A Fresh Start

Chapter 1

The Job

I do not wish to see this man in my court, or any court, ever again! said Judge Sharp as he slammed his hand on a small stack of periodicals. He slummed into his high back leather chair and fidgeted a moment.

The high ceilings, rich wood surfaces, and enormous book shelves were a testimony to the wealth and power of the man who ruled this chamber.

Rain spattered against the windows and a grey daylight added to the dark mood of the moment. An enormous black walnut desk created a stage on which a scattered and tattered stack of news articles silently trumpeted the distress once suffered in this little kingdom.

Judge Sharp tipped his glasses to the end of his nose and glared for a moment at the two gentlemen seated before him.

He declared in a loud, clear, courtroom voice, Eugene Melville has been tried, convicted, and duly sentenced. Had he been found legally sane, he would have been put to death.

With that said, the Judge stood and rounded the desk as he pulled a pipe from his dark designer suit - his tall frame creating a towering presence in the long, narrow room.

He seemed to search for a thought that was somehow written in the air as he gazed to the ceiling. With a low dramatic tone he concluded, However, our fair state does not believe in killing a man who has no sense of conscience. After all, if there is no remorse, no screams of repentance as we flip the switch, where is the justice?

Sharp pulled a small decorative box from his desk and from it a match. With a practiced stroke on the underside of the box, he lit the match and then his pipe.

After a quick puff he said, So, we placed him in a mental institution.

For a brief moment he sat on the corner of his desk, puffed at his pipe and appeared to mentally drift away. Judge Sharp suddenly appeared very old and very tired as he wistfully mused, That’s were it would have ended, if not for that little nitwit of a social worker.

With a long stretch of his arm, he reached passed the tattered and weathered headlines on his desk that announced such things as, ‘Another Body Found in Toulouse Trash’ and ‘200 Men join Toulouse Swamp Manhunt.’ He opened a briefcase and pulled a thick vanilla folder.

Leslie Zelbeck, he said with a slap of the folder on the desk. …age 24, graduated Arizona State University with a Masters in Social Work. He took a moment to remove his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose, as if in pain. He continued, She decided that Eugene had made good progress and had him placed in the general population. Two weeks later, Eugene killed 8 men while escaping in a mass riot, which, just for the record, he started.

With a vigorous thud, the judge slammed the thick file shut. He was silent for a moment - then grinned impishly at the two men seated before him.

He leaned in and with a self-assured baritone growl said, I have reviewed Ms. Zelbeck’s file. She believes that Mr. Melville has had an emotional break through! An epiphany! She states that he has found a sense of conscience and guilt. The Judge stood and loudly proclaimed, I take her at her word and find Eugene Melville sane. I also find him guilty of, oh let’s say, 173 counts of first degree murder and aggravated assault. That’s every last man, woman, and child that have disappeared in the tri-state area in the last 10 years. I also sentence him to death by what ever means necessary.

The two men seated in the chamber traded a glace. It was more than evident that this very rich, very powerful man had also become very angry and perhaps desperate. And that made him dangerous in his own right.

Judge Sharp once again settled back into his high back leather chair where he continued his thought, And gentlemen, anyone found aiding Mr. Melville shall also be found guilty! Guilty of accessory and conspiracy to these murders, this is also punishable by death.

He then leaned forward, pointed with his pipe and said, Mr. Haul, I am hiring you because you and your associates are reputed to be expedient and discrete. Mr. Melville has returned to his home in Toulouse Township and I am running out of time. The press is hounding me for information and I do not wish to see this man get anymore publicity.

I am also tired of him killing our best and brightest law enforcement officers. Oh, it’s not their fault. They simply follow their training and their sense of duty - they die because they care. I, my friends do not care! I have no more pity for this man than I would a rabid dog! His life may have been a tragedy, but I still want him dead. So that’s the job. Find Mr. Eugene Melville and kill him. Do it quietly and kill that crazy ass family of his while you’re at it. That clan of inbreeds has cost this state more money and bad publicity than Sherman’s march. I’ll keep the press quiet as long as I can, but if the story breaks that you’re on the case, the job is over.

The Judge once again walked around the end of his desk and stood before the two seated men.

Do we have a deal gentlemen?

The room began to warm. It had stopped raining and the sun shone through the windows. The smell of leather and polished wood permeated the air. This was truly a place of wealth and power. Decisions of life and death were made here daily.

William Haul Sr., or Gudgen as his family called him, suddenly felt very much a part of this place. He suddenly realized that his little company, P.E.E.R. Services, had reached a new level.

Gudgen looked up at the judge and grinned, then turned to his youngest son, Rick Haul, now in his late thirties, and suggested, I guess we better call the boys.

The two men stood up. Gudgen took Sharp’s hand and said, Mr. Melville will not bother you again, Judge. We have a deal.

Rick, seemingly less impressed and far more skeptical, spoke up and asked, How are we gonna prove that the job is done?

Judge Sharp grinned and said, That’s a good question. When you’re ready, call my assistant, Sean. He’ll make the arrangements to identify and dispose of the body. Upon verification, Sean will also make arrangements for the final transfer of funds. We already have your account numbers. The funds will be transferred directly into your account.

The Judge stepped away from the gentlemen and advised, You will also be assigned a liaison from the sheriff’s office. She will provide you with any further information or assistance you require.

Gudgen turned to Rick and said, Well….?

Rick’s head sank to his chest. He knew that this was bad. He thought of the first time that he entered a carnival fun house as a kid. The dark dead ends, twisted mirrored walls, horrible music - what ensued was anything but fun. He cast his gaze to a magazine on the desk that read, ‘Hunt Continues for Swamp man of Melville Valley…’ It depicted, in comic book fashion, a sketch of two law officers, one caught in a savage snare trap while the other was attacked by a slime covered monster.

Rick sighed deeply. He looked up with a smile and said, Oh, what the hell. A swamp psycho with high powered weapons, booby-traps, and a full week‘s head start! What can go wrong?!

Rick turned to Gudgen, slapped him on the shoulder, and announced, Sounds like an E-ticket ride to hell to me! What are we waitin‘ for?

Gudgen then turned to the judge and said. We‘ll be needin’ Mr. Melville‘s file.

The judge handed over a box of files, slapped the two men on the back and chit-chatted with them as he escorted them from the office. His assistant, Sean, entered the office from a side door and stood beside the desk.

Sharp closed the chamber door, turned to Sean and said, Call the governor. Tell him that the operation has begun. Have him put the other teams on alert. This pack of hillbillies will draw more attention than a group of sorority girls at Mardi Gras.

Sean pulled an index roller from a drawer and began to thumb through it.

The Judge continued, Call the NSA as well. See that the media is contained - make it national security or something. I want a communication lockdown! Nothing goes in or out without us knowing.

Sean nodded and turned to the phone as the Judge again wistfully turned his gaze into space and muttered, Lord help us all....!

Chapter 2

Fun and Games

Heart pounding against his chest, Ken exploded through the side door of an empty apartment. His lungs ached and pleaded with him to slow down, but there was no time. A quick scan and he was off again - across the room, down the hall and into another empty room. Rounds spattered against walls and door jambs, fired from his adversaries, as Ken ducked and turned. Visions of cottontail rabbits flashed through his head as he dodged and twisted.

‘Damn, this sucks!’ he thought as he quickly scanned for yet another exit. The next room had only one entry, a small doorless closet and a window. His pursuers were now in the hall where he could hear those chattering warnings. Ken knew it would be suicide to jump through the window and emerge onto the street, as a small army had surely encircled the building by now.

He had one chance. He pulled a grenade from his vest and tossed it into the hall. But, to his stunned amazement, an arm appeared at the doorway and tossed in yet another grenade into his room.

‘Ah, Crap!’ he thought as he bolted for the closet and threw himself against the back wall. Ken crashed through the thin construction and quickly rolled to the side as the two grenades went off simultaneously. He lay for a moment to catch his breath. He himself was unscathed but, like music to his ears, could hear the curses and moans of his pursuers. There was no time to go back and finish them off. More would be coming and he had to complete the mission.

Hey Bro, ya still alive?! came his brother, Derek, over the headset. That last blast sounded a little nasty!

I made it. responded Ken as he rolled to his back and gasped for air. Mark me down for three more. I’m headed for the roof. Larry, how much time do I have?

Larry, Ken’s cousin, came back, None! Kennedy and Omar just entered your building! Dude, they look pissed! You need to get outta there!

‘Crap! This just keeps getting better!’ Ken thought. He kicked up to his feet in one fluid motion.

Without hesitation he bolted for the door and into the main hall outside the apartment. He needed to get to the stairwell. From there, he would get to the roof and to his final destination.

As he plunged into the hall, Ken heard the urgent voices of his latest and most deadly adversaries coming up the south corridor. He recognized them immediately - Kennedy and Omar. A bolt of fear shot through him as he realized just how close they were.

Ken exploded into a sprint toward the north corridor. He was running for his life, running blind and on pure instinct! His brain worked far beyond his body, looking for options and anticipating moves. Ken knew that to survive the next few minutes meant an all out free run across ‘The Kill Zone.’ It also meant no mistakes, as his nemeses Kennedy and Omar, who were now in pursuit, were sure to make none!

Woowhoo! ‘Kings of The Kill Zone’ versus ‘the Bloodwolf Prince!’ This’ll make for some great T.V.! came Larry over the radio.

Shut up! cried Ken. I need to concentrate. How long can you guys hold out?

Derek came back, Don’t worry about us bro. We got four of us left to hold the position. You just get to their command center so we can finish this!

Make that three of us. came a small voice over the radio. It was Amanda, another cousin to Ken and Derek. They just took out Joey.

Joey! He had the rocket launcher! shouted Larry. Without that we’re swamped in five minutes!

Knock it off, guys! shouted Derek. Ken, you just finish the mission. We’ll hold ’em as long as we can.

You can do it Ken! came in Amanda.

Wax’em Capt’n! came back Larry. Show’em the way of ‘The Bloodwolf!

Get’em boys! Woowhoo! came the chatter over the radio.

Ken was now under a new kind of pressure. To save the last of his team, he had to survive and finish in the next few minutes. He managed to stay two flights ahead of Kennedy and Omar as they ran up the stairwell, but Ken was now completely winded. He could tell from their shouting that Kennedy and Omar were fresh. He had to end this and end it quickly before his chest exploded. He tossed another grenade down the stairwell.

KA-BOOM! Followed by cursing and shouts. But Kennedy and Omar kept coming.

Bursting through a door on the roof, Ken wasted no time racing to the edge of the building and jumped. It was a leap of faith as he did not take time to estimate the distance. He soared for what seemed an eternity, only to hit and rolled on the adjoining roof with only two feet to spare. He sprang up as enemy rounds spattered all around him. His opponents were closer than ever.

Kennedy and Omar never stopped. Ken heard them hit the roof and scramble to their feet, but he was already setting up for his next leap.

Ken turned left and without breaking stride, hurdled himself blindly, praying that he had remembered correctly that there was a low building beside this one. As he soared from the edge, he was thankful to be correct, but suddenly realized that the building was a full story shorter. He became extremely focused as he flew and fell all at the same time.

This is gonna hurt. he thought as prepared for the landing.

Pow, rumble…went the roof as Ken hit and rolled in one smooth motion. Yup, that hurt. he said to himself as he sprang to his feet and headed across the roof. Over pipes, across AC units, and spidering up the corner of the adjoining building to the next roof, Ken never looked back for fear of losing a single step. Rounds and rockets blurred past him and spattered around him, but none found their mark. Ken quickly turned south and had one more building to reach.

There it was his objective - a simple balcony visible just below on the next building. ’Second window from the right and straight on till morning…’ he thought to himself. He had a clear pass, but it meant jumping the whole street!

This is gonna be close… he thought as he raced for the edge. With a last mighty step, he leaped.

Opponents from below and above were all firing wildly. Rounds and rockets came from every direction - the street, the windows, the roof tops. The world felt in slow motion as Ken sailed through the air, utterly focused on the postage stamp sized landing point over a rail and under the balcony above. It was an insane maneuver that few others in the world would consider, let alone attempt under fire.

Rounds flicked past his nose and ears. The air felt alive with ammunition, but Ken gave a battle cry, reached with his toes, and hit squarely on his mark. In a single fluid motion, he sprung through the window - glass exploded as he hit and rolled into the room. He quickly gathered himself, pulled up his short rifle and waited for his pursuers. Suddenly, the exit door behind him swung open. Ken instinctively rolled, turned and fired. His would be attackers never stood a chance. They staggered back into the hall. They were done.

Ken jump to his feet and stopped. This should have been the HQ, but it was another empty room. Something was wrong.

Outside on the street, the shooting had stopped. There was shouting. Orders were being given to flood the building with personnel. Others called for rocketeers to get into position. He has to be stopped… Ken heard.

I’ve gotta be close. he thought.

Ken, their pullin’ off us. shouted Derek over the radio. You’ve got ’em scared.

Crap! They’ve got me scared! shouted Ken. I’m feelin’ a little cornered right now. I’m in the room but there’s no base! I’ve got time to check one more apartment and then I’m screwed! I figure I’ve got about three minutes to put this together before they have enough personnel to put me away!

Keep givin’ em hell bro. I’m on my way. came back Derek.

We’ll get you out, Capt’n. came back Larry.

I’m comin’! shouted Amanda.

Ken waited another few seconds, hoping that Kennedy or Omar would attempt the same jump. But, it appeared that they had other plans. A window crashed in the apartment next door. Another crashed in the apartment on the opposite side. It was Kennedy and Omar. They were in the apartments on either side of him. He was seconds from being trapped.

Ken scrambled to the exit door and was greeted with fire power from the apartments on either side of him. He returned fire, but quickly realized that he was wasting time. He glanced at the hall and noticed that the door across and to the right from him was painted red. ’That has to be it…’ he thought, ‘but, how to get there.’

Ken thought for a moment, took three leaping steps back from the open door, threw down his gun, looked squarely at the wall across the hall, picked a small point in the center, let out a battle cry and raced across the room. Behind him a pair of rockets flew through the window. In front of him a pair of grenades rolled to the front of the door. He couldn’t stop. This was it! He leaped over the grenades and across the hall, smashing through the wall and into the next apartment. Ken rolled to the left and flattened out as the rockets and grenades devastated the hall and apartment behind him.

The sound was deafening and Ken’s eyes buzzed as he staggered to his feet. He plopped into the single chair set before a large table in the back of the room. On the table was a large red button on a little silver box. Ken took a large breath, placed his hand on the button just as Kennedy and Omar scrambled to the hole in the wall. They cringed and drew a deep gasp as Ken pressed the button.

That was easy. said the little box.

Horns blew and lights flashed! Confetti cannons erupted and announcers went wild as they announced, Wow! What an ending! Team Bloodwolf! Our new Regional Paintball Champions! The stadium crowd roared with approval. What an exciting game ladies and gentleman! These athletes really gave it their all here tonight! Wow! Nationals competitors, get ready ‘cause you’re gonna have their hands full with this bunch. I’d like to see anyone top this series. We will be getting down to the podium to meet our champions right after these messages…

Ken was laughing with Kennedy and Omar as Derek entered the room. They each gave a congratulatory gesture and comment. It was a good match, they all agreed, that could have gone either way. Each made promises for next year’s match as they parted ways.

You’d better get down to the podium, said Derek to Ken, they’ll want their five minutes of conversation.

Ken smirked and said, I hate that part. Why can’t we just collect our pay and go home?

You know that’s not how it’s played. There’s a bunch of little kids dying to meet team Bloodwolf and ’The Bloodwolf Prince.

You say that like you hate me?

Derek laughed and said, No bro’, it’s all good. Our sponsors like the press and we need the hook. Just promise me you won’t start believing your own hype. Otherwise, I’ll have to kick your ass.

Ken sputtered and said, Really? All by yourself?

No, I’ll get Joey and Larry to help me. smiled Derek.

Just then Larry called from down the hall.

We’re down here! shouted Derek. But, don’t use the door! It’s still booby trapped!

What? said Larry.

Suddenly, the doorknob on the bright red door began to turn. Ken and Derek looked at each other and immediately dove behind the table. The paint bomb attached to the door exploded into the hall and across the room. Larry was immediately covered in paint.

Derek looked at Ken and said, O.k., I’ll get Joey and Amanda to help me kick your ass.

The two chuckled as the paint covered Larry muttered, Son-of-a-bitch!

After the speeches at the podium, the young competitors made there way through the festival outside.

Man, I can’t eat another bite. said Derek as he tossed the last of his Philly cheese sandwich into the trash.

Dude, that’s blasphemous! objected Larry as he contemplated snatching the greasy tidbit from the top of the overflowing can. You can’t toss a classic piece of Americana like that! It’s…it’s un-American!

Oh, come on guys! My muscles are startin’ to tighten up. Lets keep movin‘. I just wanna stay loose. growled Ken.

I got a loose movement for ya. said Larry as he lifted his leg to pass a substantial amount of gas.

Oh, my dear God! Dude! moaned Derek as he rolled his eyes and grabbed his nose. Look, you scared that little kid over there! He pointed to a youngster who had obviously been startled by the eruption in Larry’s pants.

The guys laughed and proceeded through the narrow avenues of the hastily cobbled bazaar.

Under a sea of canopies, a thick greasy mist combined with sticky humid air to create an oily sweat soaked film that clung to