Homeward Bound (Journeyman Book 1) Read online

  Homeward

  BOUND

  JOURNEYMAN SERIES ONE

  by

  Golden Czermak

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel

  are products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously. All Rights Reserved.

  In accordance with the United States Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, or sharing of any part of

  this work without the permission of the copyright holder is unlawful theft of the author’s intellectual property.

  Cover Model: Caylan Hughes

  Cover Photography and Design: FuriousFotog

  Editor: Kellie Montgomery

  Formatting: Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs

  WARNING: This book is for mature readers only. Not for children. It contains adult themes, violence,

  coarse language, sexual situations, nudity, and paranormal themes.

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Main Cast of Characters

  Eric, I could not have done any of this without you. From the tireless nagging about words and plot lines, to the countless days and nights spent away from you cultivating not only this story but the Furious brand in general - your patience knows absolutely no bounds. For that, and especially your love over the past 18 years, I am forever grateful.

  FuriousFans, what can I say? There are way too many of you to name individually here, but I am frankly blessed, humbled, and amazed by all the support you have shown. It truly does mean the world to me and never would I have imagined being able to do any of this without it. The fact that there are, literally, millions of you around the world blows my mind each and every day. Here’s to new adventures, especially now with Gage Crosse, and of course more as the future becomes the present.

  Last but certainly not least, Caylan Hughes. I think your sheer presence and personality are enough to explain to those that know you, but in case anyone reading does not: You. Are. Gage. Back in November 2014, I never would have imagined when that bulky (haha yes, I went there) red-haired model showed up in that massive white truck, that such a great friendship would be kindled both in front of the camera and in real life as well. We’ve only just started my man, with Gage and with all the rest. Thank you for your friendship, your inspiration, your love, and more.

  THE NIGHT WIND WAS BITING as it gnawed through the drizzle that cloaked the rusty factory in gray. Lifeless leaves clung to withered trees while their skeletal branches tapped against the peeled metal and worn stone, rattled by the tormenting breeze. The place had a look of being long abandoned, but shadowed figures moving between the cracked panes of glass betrayed the dead air.

  At a distant side entrance, a beat up truck crept off the county road onto the middle-of-nowhere property with its lights off. Mud squelched under its aged tires while lightning cleaved the sky, illuminating “Danger” and “No Trespassing” signs tucked in amidst the overgrowth lining the narrow driveway. Three indistinct figures were sitting inside the 79 GMC quad cab as it slid off into the cover of dense brush. Its doors swung open as the vehicle came to a slow roll, then stopped shortly after.

  Joey Mosely was first out. He darted from the rear seat toward the back of the truck, light puffs of his steamy breath trailing behind like a train. The young man was in a wrinkled white tee, tight over his muscular chest, along with a pair of weathered jeans and a hand-me-down Member's Only jacket. Extending an arm, he pulled himself up into the truck bed, crouching in front of a large weatherproof box positioned underneath the rear window. Two additional boxes were on either side; all were tightly shut.

  Fingers like chopsticks felt around in his jacket pockets, touching the all too familiar softness and crunch of wadded paper. A frown met the first ball of gum wrappers he pulled out, the disappointment growing with the candy ones that came next, and yet more so with the countless sticky notes that somehow fit inside too, all useless since the ink had bled out long ago. Flinging them aside, he dove back in and thankfully after a few seconds found the hard metal he was looking for, removing it before inserting the oddly notched cylinder into a round keyhole at the top of the lid.

  Ancient glyphs of different shapes and sizes were painted along the outside. As the key turned and the tumblers moved, the symbols glowed with faint energy and the cool metal surface became warm to the touch. The lid slowly rose by itself with a whisper, like voices carried from long ago and a force blew through the opening into Joey’s chin-length hair, causing it to whip up briefly then flop back down to block his view.

  Sweeping away the stray black strands, he reached inside where a plethora of arcane weapons, items, and technological devices waited – tucked haphazardly amongst rich fabrics embroidered with even more charms and symbols. The contents seemed to glimmer eagerly with each flash from the passing storm, waiting to be picked up and used.

  Adrienne Elkins slipped herself out of shotgun position. The denim jacket she wore with her solid black top and jeans fit her late twenties figure quite well. She surveyed the area for any signs that their approach was noticed. The forest was dingy except for the now faint pricks of lightning and white light of the waning crescent moon that streamed down through the treetops. Thankfully, nothing indicated they were in any immediate danger; even the crickets chirped in chorus uninterrupted.

  Grabbing her Cougars baseball cap from the glove box, she tucked up her long brunette hair and then reached back into the door's side pocket. Out came a pair of plain daggers, the first one placed in a small ankle holster while the other found a home securely on her belt. Adjacent to it a larger one already dangled, its silver blade etched with three circular Solomon sigils and the Elder Futhark runes Thurisaz and Uruz along the handle. She took a long, deep breath of crisp air before she returned her attention to the surroundings. The night was brooding, different than usual.

  It was then that a beast of a man lumbered out of the driver's seat, his heavy black boots sinking into the soggy soil. Dressed in a tight gray tee and a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off, his muscular yet intricately inked arms stretched as he swaggered toward the front of the truck in a pair of absurdly snug jeans. Glancing at his baby, a gloved hand ran fondly down the brown and white hood; she still had plenty of go left in her, the old girl. Halting to take in the gloom around them, he rapped his husky fingers on a thigh-mounted custom MK23.

  “Gage,” Adrienne said softly, not wanting to jar him out of any deep thought. “Joey's got some new gear for us in back. He…” She stopped, noticing his right hand tapping on the gun. “Seriously? You brought it with you to a clearing… again?”

  Without a word, he turned and winked a green eye at her.

  She rolled her hazel ones in return.

  Lifting his hand off of the holster, he ran it slowly through his thick mop of black hair.
There was just enough wetness for it to fall perfectly into place when he was done and he looked over toward her, head cocked. “I always thought that cap had a fitting description of you written across the front, darlin’,” he said in a deep accented voice, a finger pointed squarely at his forehead.

  “Untrue,” she shot back without any hesitation. “You know I like my men older, more experienced. I don’t think you know much about that, right? Experience? Perhaps with some, you’d manage to hit something with that weapon of yours.”

  He glanced over, seeing a little more sass in her step. “I can hit plenty of things with my weapon, gorgeous. Especially if they’re moving at the speed you do,” he said casually.

  There was silence as she shook her head, the slightest hint of a smirk escaping from beneath the brim of her cap.

  He moseyed to the tailgate as Joey greeted them, holding three sets of what looked like head bands.

  “So my man, what do you have prepped for us tonight?” Gage asked. Leaning forward, he rested those large arms on the edge of the truck like a big kid eagerly awaiting toys.

  “Mostly the same old cutty, stabby, keep-the-biters at bay fare,” Joey responded, casting a lingering stare at Gage while he rubbed on his dark beard, much thicker than his own. His arms looked truly massive pressed up against the tailgate. Shaking his head, he coughed before struggling to continue. “But I… uh... thought we could give these new guys a whirl.”

  He raised the gadgets to show them off in more detail. They were circular headbands, each outfitted with a battery pack, small microphone and several rows of light emitting diodes. “I’ve been working on these for the past few weeks: voice operated UV lights. Perfect for any tight spots we may encounter in there.”

  “How do they work?” asked Adrienne, shifting herself over to the back of the truck next to Gage for a better view.

  Joey handed them each a unit then flipped a switch on his battery. There was a brief pop and a hum which lingered for a few seconds before fading.

  “Well, as you know,” he said, “we always seem to get caught in some kind of close combat situation when fighting these guys. Hell, when we’re fighting pretty much anybody. With these, we should be able to loosen their grip if we get pinned and things get particularly… necky.”

  “Some of us like necking,” muttered Gage, throwing a glance over towards Adrienne, “and being pinned. Isn’t that what you told me the other day, Ady?”

  Her middle finger shot up. “Yup, I recall mentioning just that.”

  Joey laughed then squatted, looking down at the truck bed.

  “If you two kids are done,” he said, pulling his hair into a loose bun and placing the device on his head. “Now let’s say you do get caught in a tight spot, all you’ll have to do is say these magic words and you should be set: ‘light 'em up!’”

  The unit beeped and in an instant the floor was bathed in an otherworldly blue light, the air buzzing gently.

  “Oh, this is good!” Adrienne said, reaching in to pat his shoulder. “Nice one J!” Yet again Joey didn't fail to impress with his tech prowess. He was always the hard worker, even more so since the loss of his dad about this time last year. She started to ponder: had it already been a year since that fateful night? The blue began to fade away at the edges of her vision and it grew dark as sights and sounds, horrible in memory, threatened to rush in.

  Then came the screams… Noooo!

  She snapped back and her gaze now twinkled in the moonlight. She brushed away what could have been an overflowing tear, wondering if anyone had noticed, and smiled.

  “Thanks!” he beamed. “Deactivate.” The lights on his unit flickered, then faded and the area became bleak once again.

  “Good work, my man,” said Gage, his words unexpected. Adrienne and Joey exchanged puzzled looks, waiting for a smart ass chaser to the compliment. It never came. Instead, Gage thumped a fist on the tailgate. “Now let’s finish up and get to business.”

  They had come to rural Houston that night to complete a clearing of a local vampire coven, which was a focus-grouped way of saying ‘exterminate the damn place and everyone inside of it’. The Order of Journeymen, despite years of gradual dissolution and dwindling numbers, still prided itself on committee-approved correctness, often with a panache for the superfluous and verbose.

  This particular coven was small, estimated at no more than six vampires, yet they managed to raise a host of questions being at the epicenter of seventeen unexplained deaths and three disappearances across the counties in the area. The attacks were getting more brash and the collateral damage drifted ever further into the public eye. The latest kidnapping was no exception, with County Sheriff Mike Blake missing for over a week.

  Lucky for the team, the heightened awareness of a missing elected official along with an ample amount of local press investigations made things easier for them. With a little detective work and lots of greased palms, they were led to this derelict plant.

  Joey removed a series of small grenade-like items from the box, passing a few carefully to Adrienne before clipping the rest to his belt. A couple of knives were also pulled out and he tossed Gage some ammo clips, painted blue, along with a few vials of holy water. Although most of the traditional folklore about supernatural creatures was false, some of the elements were tried and true.

  Joey hopped over the tailgate and pressed a small button underneath the rear bumper. For a brief moment, the truck seemed to shimmer from within before returning to normal. He reached back into the bed and pulled a baseball bat off a side mount, a sharp blade slotted into the barrel.

  “Hope Bolo gets lucky tonight,” said Gage.

  Joey looked at him, slapping the handle to his palm and returned a thumbs up.

  Gage turned his attention to the magazines, ejecting a spent gray one from his gun and slapping in one of the new blues, tucking away the spares in his holster pockets. He checked his phone for the time and noticed the battery had drained quite a bit before switching it into vibrate mode. That’s when he noticed Adrienne pacing in his peripheral vision.

  “What're you thinking?” he asked, approaching her from behind. A large, calming hand touched her on the back.

  She had just adjusted her belt for what had to be the hundredth time, then looked down the same path he had earlier. She placed her hands on her hips. “I’m not sure,” she said gently. “Something seems off. Not necessarily the situation…” she paused at that notion, letting out a scant chuckle: killing vampires had become the norm, “but the why”.

  “If it makes you feel better, I agree,” he said, folding his arms while also looking down into the dark. “It's been what, a couple months at least since we've heard of any blood-sucking in the area? In fact, the same amount of time since we’ve heard of any supernatural shit going down. It’s been all quiet, then outta nowhere we have this beastly feast right in our backyard.” He shuffled, looking uncomfortable even for the mighty Gage Crosse. His knuckles cracked as he went on. “Hell, I thought we had driven them all out west toward Pine Springs…”

  Joey stepped up beside the two of them and Gage took in the faces that were with him, looking to one, then the other. Who would’ve thought he would be with anyone, especially a team, for over a year? Certainly not the self-expressed loner himself.

  It hadn’t been all rainbows, roses, and unicorns by any means (well, there was that one unicorn about eight months back). The nights were still as long and as harsh as they’d ever been, though he supposed notably less than the pre-company days. They had all been through much together and he was certainly glad to have them by his side. He gazed at Adrienne for a moment longer.

  Especially her.

  “But,” he snapped, “we can dwell on all that afterwards.” He strode to the back of the truck one last time. A serrated steel machete lined with combat sigils caught his attention. Yanking the blade out of the box, he closed it up tight and tossed Joey the key.

  “You both ready?”

 
They nodded and looked to him for direction.

  “Alright then! Let’s do this!” he said, taking point as they walked together into the dark.

  AFTER A SHORT HIKE, the trio arrived outside the crusty building, more ominous up close than it was from afar, searching for the nearest way in. Much to Gage’s disappointment there wasn’t a gaping hole they could simply waltz through, but Adrienne soon spotted a door off to the right in a smoker’s area, coated in brown vines and rust.

  Joey knelt in front of the entrance while the others covered him. He reached into a side pocket in his jeans and pulled out several lock picking tools, nimbly working to refine his breaking-and-entering skills. “This is so much easier with a video game controller,” he said in frustration as the door didn’t yield right away.

  A rustle came from the bushes; Gage honed in on the sound, but it turned out to be just the wind.

  “Voila!” Joey said proudly after a few more moments. “Master lock picking skill achieved.”

  Gage pushed the corroded door open slowly to minimize the sound of moaning metal and ushered them inside once there was a gap large enough. One after the other they entered the darkened room.

  A few windows lined the crumbling walls, damp and sweating with black mold, while rows of benches and tables ran down the center. Refrigerators and microwaves on the far side rested against flaking safety posters and corporate notices that had long gone unread. In the corner stood two vending machines, one full of expired snacks and the other stuffed with cobwebs and spider spawn.

  “This is definitely the right place,” whispered Adrienne as she pointed to the open fridge doors. Inside were trays of blood and assorted body parts, marinating at room temperature on the powerless shelves. If anyone had been hungry, they definitely weren’t now as a bitter stench of vinegar and death wafted into their noses and stung their throats.

  Joey made his way toward a hallway to the left of the entrance, rounding the corner straight into a massive spider web that completely covered his face. Its maker dangled right at the corner of his eye and quickly he shoved it into the wall, smearing bug guts across the factory’s posted injury record. From the looks of that weathered document, this place hadn’t won any awards for a safe work environment. Ever.