Free The Spook House (The Spook Series Book 1) by Paul Emil

finding them all, you fail. If you don’t find any, fine. Just make sure you’ve searched the whole house before coming out and reporting that.”
    He added, “Remember! If you fail, you die.” We looked around each other.
    “… in the field!” the handler quickly added. “Drill it like it’s real. If you fail in the field, you die, or your fellow soldiers die. If you fail here, you live with the shame. And you get demoted. But you’re not going to fail, are you? You’re going to get in there and clean it out. The next Bin Laden could be in there, so go get him!”
    The handler’s speech may have worked if we were a football team about to play a game, but it had little effect here in front of this monstrosity masquerading as a house.
     This is what the military’s about. It’s about getting troops to do things they otherwise wouldn’t do. Right now, none of use wanted to go into the dark house. It seemed to radiate a vibe that said, “Stay away!” It would be like a child who had never been in the woods before coming across a mountain lion or a big bear. Even if the child had never learned to fear such an animal, the sheer size of it and its teeth and claws would trigger a warning alarm. The human survival instinct would shout, “Don’t go near that!” That’s how we felt now.
    So even though we were supposedly on our way in our “military careers,” as they put it, the brainwashing wasn’t complete. This task was putting everything in doubt. The handler sensed it.
    “I should add that there is a sizable pay increase with the promotions you’ll be receiving. Also, there is an unofficial competition among the supervisors. We like to bet how long it will take a team to clear the house. Maybe you’ll set a new record.”
    “What’s the record?” Boudreaux asked.
    “I can’t tell you,” the handler said. “It could affect your job performance. Besides, this isn’t a timed test. Just get it done.”
    The money, not surprisingly, improved some of the guys’ attitudes. Then there was the competition angle. That motivated a lot of people in the world. But I saw a more sinister side to it. I’m sure the handler’s words were carefully prepared in advance. He spoke casually as if this was all just a routine training exercise. We weren’t facing the unknown.
    It sounded like the previous teams had made it safely out without any trouble. This test happened so often the supervisors bet on it.
    But that story, just like everything else I’d seen and heard here, didn’t feel right. But I could already see the change in the group. The brewing rebellion was quelled. Its would-be leader, Dubois, was silent now.
    So that was it. I shuddered. I knew what was happening. We were going into the house.
     
    –––––
     
    I felt like a boy about to jump into a cold lake – scared to take the plunge, but once I got in, it probably wouldn’t be so bad. I’d get used to it, and maybe even enjoy it. After clearing a house in training or doing a pop-up run, I usually felt a wave of relief pour over me. And like a kid at a cold pool, the sooner I got in, the sooner I could get out.
    Growing up in the Midwest, I swam in my share of lakes. While they could both be refreshing on hot summer days, the experience of swimming in a lake was totally different than swimming in a pool. A lake had its benefits. You were out in nature and the water was pure. You didn’t have all of the concrete around or the chlorine smell.
    But it was scary too. Most lakes were cold and dark. You couldn’t see the bottom. There were fish and God-knows-what-else in there. Of course, there was a feeling of safety in numbers. If there were a bunch of people splashing around in the water, it was less likely that I would be singled out and targeted by “the thing in the water.” Of course, I didn’t expect to be attacked by anything. But the feeling was always there. It was a primal fear in the brain. The presence of others reduced