Free C.O.T.V.H. (Book 3): Extermination by Dustin J. Palmer Page B

large whiskey bottles filled with gasoline in his hands.  He stuck rags into both and whipped his Zippo lighter out of his pocket igniting them both.  The first, he tossed through the front door, the second through a window upstairs.  "Take that you blood sucking bitch!" he yelled at the house.
    "Cort!  You bastard!  You killed my sister!  I'll drain you like I drained your precious son!  I will kill everyone you've ever loved!  Everyone you've ever cared for!  I will make the boy my slave!" she yelled back at him.  “You will be the last, Cort!  I promise you!  YOU WILL BE THE LAST!”
    Both men watched through the doorway as the flames began to engulf the house.  The last sight Jake saw before Cort heaved him into the truck was the broken, deformed face of his dad staring back at him. 
     
     

 
    Chapter 4
    Cort
     
     
    Patricia, TX
    September 10, 2001 9:56am
     
     
    Cort pulled the red Ford out of the drive, his foot pushing the gas pedal all the way to the floor.  The pickup fishtailed down the dirt road as dark smoke billowed from the broken windows of the house behind them.  Jake turned in his seat unable to take his eyes from it.  Flames, fueled by the high West Texas winds, danced across the dry wood consuming all it touched.
    What the hell just happened?!   Cort screamed inside his head.  John!  Please god, not John!
    Cort had always known death.  It came with the life he’d chosen.  Hunters died, that was a cold hard fact.  However he’d never dreamed that John could be taken down.  He was one of the best Hunters to ever live.  It was almost too much for his mind to bear. 
    He knew without a doubt if Jake hadn’t been with him he never would have left that house.  He would have gladly met his end with Pearl at the end of his blade.  At least he would have taken her with him. But he had to keep Jake safe.  That’s what John would have wanted.  That was his dying wish.
    "We've got to go back!" Jake yelled.  "We can't just leave him there!"
    "You're dad's dead, Jake," Cort said, trying his best to remain calm but doing a poor job of it.  His hands gripped the wheel in a white knuckle grip.
    "Dead?  Dead!" Jake screamed.  “Grandpa, I saw him!  I saw his face looking back at us!  And we just left him there!  He’s still alive!  We have to go back!"
    Cort didn't say a word.  He wanted to reassure him that everything would be okay; he just couldn’t bring himself to lie.  Things would never be okay again. 
    Without warning Jake grabbed the steering wheel, jerking the truck off the road, across a small ditch, and into a bone dry cotton field.  Cort, fighting for control, slammed on the brakes.
    Before the truck had even come to a complete stop, Jake had opened the door and had fallen out.  Blood poured from the open wounds in his chest but he crawled, digging his hands into the hard dirt, trying desperately to get back to the burning house. 
    Cursing, Cort ran around and picked him up off the ground, realizing for the first time the extent of his injuries.  "Jake, damn son, you're bleeding all over the place."
    Laying him gently on the front seat, Cort ripped the shredded vest off then unzipped the body suit.  He couldn't believe what he saw underneath.  It was as if Jake hadn't even been wearing body armor. His chest and right shoulder were pouring blood from eight different wounds.
    Cort tossed the vest into the backseat and pulled the body suit down to Jake’s waist, then grabbed the first aid kit from under the front seat.  "We've got to take care of this Jake, but this . . . this is way beyond my skill."  He did his best to stay calm as he cleaned the wounds with alcohol causing Jake to yell out in pain.  He hastily bandaged the wounds by wrapping one large gauze roll around his chest several times.  “That will have to do for now.”  Cort said wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his hand.
    "Grandpa . . . please . . . we can't just leave him," Jake