Wet Screams: Critter Catchers: Level Up, #2

By Hank Edwards

A small business in legal trouble.

A town harboring another deadly secret.

Two men once again called to fight a frightening creature.

 

Best friends turned husbands Cody Bower and Demetrius Singleton have seen a dip in their business since the zombie uprising earlier that summer. The family of one of the zombies dispatched by Cody has filed a civil lawsuit against him and their Critter Catchers business, and the case is causing more than a little stress. While it has yet to affect their relationship, it is definitely affecting their income.

 

When two people drown out at Parson's Pond, Sheriff's Deputy Lucia Durant comes knocking at their door asking for their insight. Reluctant at first to get involved, the two soon realize they may have no choice as mysterious incidents continue to occur throughout town.

 

Finally, with some help from their dependable friends and family members, Cody and Demetrius dig into the cases. As the date for a verdict on the civil case closes in, they come face to face with a dangerous and insidious monster which has set its sights on them and everyone they know.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mitten Ginger Media
• Release date: Jan 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223767992

Hank Edwards

Hank Edwards has been writing gay erotic fiction for more than twenty years. He has written over two dozen novels and even more short stories. His writing crosses many sub-genres, including romance, rom-com, contemporary, paranormal, suspense, mystery, and wacky comedy. Find out more at www.hankedwardsbooks.com.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Cody Bower was dying.

Sweat dripped from his nose, prickling across his scalp and under his arms. His heart pounded, and gasping for breath had set his throat afire. He’d flirted with death more often than he liked to count in recent years, but this time truly felt like the very end.

And all he could think about was Demmy. He’d been doing this, all of this, for Demmy. He’d been lucky so far, they both had, but it seemed Fate had finally caught up with him. This was one fight too many, his final battle. After this, Demmy would be alone. If only he could have one more night, hell, one more minute, with Demmy, Cody would bare his soul. He would say everything in his heart, no matter how vulnerable it might make him feel. All he wanted, needed, was a little more time.

Are you taking a nap, Bower?

Cody flinched. Keeping his eyes closed, he turned his head toward the sound of the voice that was, as usual, tinged with gleeful brutality. The plastic indoor/outdoor carpet scratched pleasantly across the back of his head, and he deliberately refused to contemplate how many soles and sweaty asses had touched the same spot.

Hey, Bower⁠—

I heard you. Eyes still closed, Cody gave a feeble wave. So what if I am?

This is interval training, not nap time. If you want nap time, go back to kindergarten.

Dear God, if only he could. He’d do things so differently. For one, he’d actually ask Demmy out on a date when they were in high school. Or maybe middle school. Hell, he could just swing for the fences and ask him out in elementary school. Be one of those couples who has always been together.

But that would have just given him more time to fuck everything up and lose Demmy for good. Some days, even after everything they’ve been through, it felt as if he were on the cusp of that anyway. Throw some monsters into the mix, and the probability of that happening really escalated.

Bower!

Gathering every ounce of strength remaining, Cody struggled into a sitting position. He glared at the handsome and so-very-in-shape Jordie, who wore tight shorts, an equally tight tank top, and had his long, thick hair pulled back into a man bun. Jordie glared right back.

I’m up, Cody said.

"You’re sitting, Jordie shouted back, then he turned his attention to shaming a woman doing her best on the pull up bar. It’s supposed to be a pull-up, Hannah, not a dangle. Come on!"

Cody groaned as he got to his feet. Everything hurt. Even things inside of things hurt. He glanced at the clock and groaned when he realized he still had twenty minutes remaining in this current torture session.

Bower, Jordie barked. Jump rope. Fifty in a row. If you miss, start counting over.

I’d rather deal with a herd of zombies again, Cody muttered as he moved slowly toward the jump ropes in the corner.

There were four people in Jordie’s seven fifteen a.m. interval training session, three men and Hannah, all in varying stages of fitness. Cody was happy he only had to start his jump rope session over twice, and when Jordie finally called, Fine, you’re all finished! Adequate effort today, he staggered toward the tiny locker room.

After his shower, Cody dressed in his usual Critter Catchers polo, cargo shorts, and work boots, and walked through the humid air down the length of the strip mall to where his truck was parked. After dropping his workout bag in the small backseat area, he opened the Critter Catchers office door and stepped inside. Demmy had placed a large coffee from Hollow Grounds on his desk along with a couple of mini danishes.

Bless you, Cody said as he slowly lowered himself into his desk chair with quiet moans and curses. He sipped the coffee and closed his eyes. Perfect.

How was Jordie today? Demmy asked. He sat at his own desk, facing him but with his attention on his computer monitor.

Cody opened his eyes in time to catch Demmy’s grin before he managed to hide it. He said he misses you and can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

I’m sure he did. Demmy stood and leaned down to give Cody a gentle kiss. Must have been an especially tough session. I saw Hannah crying in her car when I got here.

Yeah, Jordie was feeling extra drill sergeanty.

I’ll be sure to double my warm up time tomorrow morning.

Cody grunted an affirmative as he took a bite of danish. It had been his idea for them to hire a personal trainer to help them get into better shape, and Demmy’s for them to do it in separate sessions. Something about one of them needing to be available for early morning appointments, even though Jugs was full time and could have covered. Cody didn’t think Demmy had a thing for Jordie, but figured it had more to do with giving them both a bit of personal space. And Cody appreciated that opportunity, since they lived and worked together.

We have a couple of appointments this morning, Demmy said over his shoulder as he walked into the break room. Jugs is handling one out by Harriettville, and you and I will take care of the other here in town.

Harriettville? Expanding our reach a bit?

Demmy returned with a yogurt. I had Jugs put some brochures out at the Farmer’s Market and Dobson’s Hardware over there.

How many boxes of brochures do we have left in the supply closet?

Eight.

Cody smirked. How many brochures in a box?

A thousand, Demmy said with a sigh and scooped up a big spoonful of yogurt. I overbought, okay?

Hey, I just asked a question.

Stop playing innocent. You knew perfectly well how many were in a box.

Who, me?

Whatever Jordie did to you today, I think you earned it.

Cody delivered his best stricken expression. That hurts.

I said what I said.

Demmy scraped up the last of the yogurt and licked the spoon clean, and something deep inside Cody shivered at the sight.

I’m starting to feel like there’s a conspiracy.

Demmy delivered an overly innocent look. Are you? Before Cody could reply, he stood up. We need to leave for that appointment, he said, carrying his empty yogurt container to the break room.

Conspiracy, Cody said to himself before popping the last bite of danish into his mouth.

The job was a squirrel removal. More precisely, the removal of multiple squirrels. The critters had taken up residence in a dark, dusty, cobwebby attic corner where the peak of the roof came down to meet the eaves of a pre-war bungalow. Access was possible through a waist high door in the unfinished upper floor. And there was no central air conditioning.

Cody was already sweating as he stood beside the truck and zipped up his coveralls. It was the middle of August, and a damp, hot mess of a weather system had settled over the area like an unwelcome relative. The weather forecasters were all blaming it on different things—the Allegheny Mountains to the southeast, a high pressure system dropping down from the north, climate change, or a combination of the three—but all were of the same mind that it was going to be hot, humid, and wet for a while.

And Cody was about to crawl around in someone’s attic for a couple of hours.

How much more glamorous could his life get?

God, this humidity is so gross, Demmy grumbled as he zipped his own coveralls. And we’re not even in the attic yet.

How do people live without central air? Cody asked.

Maybe it’s a pride thing. Like they can make do with fans and have no need for air conditioning because they’re tough.

Cody furrowed his brow. Isn’t our client a widow in her seventies?

My theory may need work. Or she could be one of those strong and fiercely independent penny pinchers.

Whatever her story is, this feels like something Jordie would dream up for a workout. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was his great-grandmother or something.

That got a snorted laugh before Demmy handed Cody a battery-powered headlamp. Armed with loop snares, nets, and a carrier, they headed up the walk to the front door and stepped inside.

It took them two and a half hours to get all six squirrels secured inside the carrier. Two and a half hours of muttered curses, dust caked to their sweaty faces, and a pause to swap out the batteries on Cody’s headlamp when it gave out right as he was about to snag the third squirrel.

After a final check around the attic for any more squirrels in hiding, Cody located the entry point in the eaves and secured it as Demmy hauled the carrier of chittering, scratching squirrels down the steps out to the truck. When he’d finished closing up the hole, Cody rolled onto his back and looked at the slanted roofline above. His muscles were starting to feel the morning’s workout, and he wondered if they had any ibuprofen in the truck. The attic was stuffy, brutally so, but quiet. It brought back memories of that fevered feeling before the Fourth of July, when he’d been bitten by the zombie and infected. He put his right hand over the scar on his left forearm, covered now by the sleeve of his coveralls. Sometimes the spot ached for no apparent reason, and he wondered if that magic potion the scientists at GRUNT labs had created on the fly had truly rid his body of every last drop of infection. Or maybe caused something completely different. He’d have to ask Zenona when he went for his follow up.

Hey, you okay?

Demmy’s voice brought him back, like usual. Cody lifted his head and looked down the dusty, cobweb-covered length of his body to where Demmy was on his hands and knees half inside the tiny door into the attic.

I’m fine. Just enjoying some time in the sauna.

Why don’t you come out of there before you pass out and I have to drag you out by your boots?

Sounds a little kinky.

You won’t enjoy it, trust me. Come on. Let’s get paid and get rid of these squirrels.

Cody rolled to his side then got to his hands and knees and crawled out the half door into the equally hot room beyond. Once downstairs, Demmy collected a check from the woman whose white hair was combed back from her forehead and cut short. Add to that her small, cold blue eyes that could have been chipped off a glacier, and Cody definitely thought she had the potential to be some kind of relation to Jordie the sadist.

Outside, they both sighed as they peeled off their sweaty coveralls. The squirrels scrabbled around inside the carrier as Cody secured the coveralls inside an old duffel he once used to cart his football uniform between school and home. Over two decades worth of his funk was inside that duffel, and now Demmy’s was being added to it. Pretty much a perfect description of their relationship that, for some reason, had him halfway hard. Huh.

Once behind the wheel, he gave himself a moment to enjoy the blast of the air conditioner, then looked over at Demmy.

Usual spot to let the squirrels run free?

Demmy nodded as he wiped sweat from his forehead. I think so, don’t you?

I’m too overheated to form an opinion.

Cody Bower without an opinion? I’m making a note of this date. Demmy tapped at his phone.

You know what? He tried to think of a comeback and gave up with a feeble wave. Forget it, I’m too overheated to even sass back.

Demmy tapped at his phone again, apparently making another note.

Keep it up, funny guy, Cody said, easing the truck away from the curb. When he turned onto Main Street there was little traffic. Not that their small town of Parson’s Hollow ever dealt with much in the way of traffic, but he had noticed a difference lately.

Weird not having to worry about her, Demmy said.

It was, of course, as if Demmy were reading his mind. Cody had been thinking about the Widow Monroe. She’d died—twice, if he were to get technical about it—just before the Fourth of July, and she had left Cody her behemoth of a car. Without that Cadillac peeling away layers of the ozone as she either sped or puttered down the street, depending on how she was feeling, the town just seemed to be any other small Pennsylvania town.

Yeah. Who’s going to drop in out of the blue and save us from monsters?

You say that as if you’re expecting us to find another monster case, Demmy said.

Cody glanced at him. You say that as if you’re expecting we won’t find another monster case. You know what kind of luck we have.

Bad, Demmy said with a sigh.

The baddest.

They were quiet after that. The tires hummed along the asphalt as the road took them out of downtown through the neighborhood of small homes built before the war, some before the first World War. Their home—or, rather, Demmy’s Aunt Amelia’s home which she had offered to them a few years ago—was in the mix of houses, and Cody liked the warm and comfortable feelings brought up by the thought of it.

Main Street turned into Route 118. This stretch of road, though still considered Parson’s Hollow, was maintained by the county, and therefore a little more rough around the edges. The hum of the tires shifted to something more like a whine, but Cody didn’t mind. It was a familiar sound that spoke to his body, gave him a sense of place.

He and Demmy had yet to speak, and Cody enjoyed the comfortable quiet. It was the result of decades of friendship which had built into a love so much deeper than Cody had ever hoped to find. Sometimes, thinking about them like that helped him understand why he’d been so slow to see it for what it was all those years ago.

Cody slowed and turned onto Morley Trail, a one-time logging road used by a lumber mill gone out of business long ago, and which was now a single lane dirt and sand trail that wound through stands of hardwood and pine trees. Morley Trail meandered around Parson’s Pond, coming back to join itself just before the connection with the paved Route 118. The pond was, in actuality, a small and rather deep lake, but nobody had ever called it Parson’s Lake because that didn’t roll off the tongue like Parson’s Pond.

He drove slowly along the trail, navigating the familiar ruts and dips, until he reached the customary spot with enough room for him to pull the truck off onto firmer ground. The squirrels chattered and cried, and Cody was anxious to be rid of them. The dust from the attic felt as if it had mixed with his sweat to create a kind of paste that clogged his pores and left him feeling even warmer.

I feel gross, Demmy grumbled as he lowered the tailgate.

You took the words right out of my mouth, Cody said. And now that I heard myself say that, it kind of turns me on.

There isn’t much that doesn’t turn you on.

Demmy hopped up into the truck bed and knelt to release the bungee cords holding the carrier in place. The squirrels ran around the confines, making a sound that was like a combination of a grunt and a scream as their claws scritch-scratched across the plastic surface.

Oh, settle down, Demmy said in a calm tone. You’ll be free and running through the woods in a few minutes.

Lucky rodents, Cody said. He sighed and wiped a hand across his grimy-feeling forehead.

Demmy slid the carrier toward Cody, who hefted it from the truck. They walked out into the woods a good distance, and Cody set the carrier down between two large oak trees. A gentle breeze rustled the green leaves overhead, sunlight sparking between them. The breeze was apparently prejudiced against those forced to obey gravity, because there was no hint of air movement at ground level.

Okay, little ones, have a good life, Demmy said, popping the carrier door open. The squirrels streaked off across the ground and darted up different trees, chattering between themselves from branches high overhead.

Watch out for hawks and bears and stuff, Cody said.

Good life advice.

Demmy closed the carrier door and picked it up and they returned to the truck. Cody lifted the carrier over the side of the bed, then secured it in place with the bungee cords so it wouldn’t bounce around on the drive back. When he’d finished, he leaned an elbow on the top of the truck bed’s side wall and found Demmy looking across the trail toward the glittering surface of Parson’s Pond.

Wanna go fishing? Cody asked.

No, Demmy said, turning to him with a tired smile. But…

Cody raised his eyebrows. But…? He looked around in an exaggerated manner though they were completely alone, and leaned in as he lowered his voice. I’m way too sweaty and gross to fool around in the truck.

Oh, yeah, me too. But… Demmy moved a step closer and lowered his voice as well. We could go skinny-dipping to cool off.

Cody’s surprise hit him with the same timing and impact as his arousal. Demetrius Barnaby Singleton-Bower, you wicked scamp.

I mean, we could get back in the truck and drive to the office and check voicemails and emails and see if Jugs is there, and then after that go back home and shower. Or… He looked over his shoulder toward the water, then back at Cody. We could take a quick dip and cool off before doing all of that.

I am impressed, aroused, and alarmed all at once. Cody took his hand, leading him across the trail and through the trees toward Parson’s Pond. How often have you been swimming out here?

A few times, Demmy said. When I was a kid. Actually, I think all of them have been with you.

I was out here a lot in the summers, Cody said. Mostly with my brothers. Roman was an asshole even back then, dunking all of us and splashing us in the face and telling us stories about things that lived in the pond that would bite our feet or dicks or swim up our assholes or dicks.

Sounds like a lot of things were supposed to happen to your dicks.

That’s what it’s like to have brothers. Cody squeezed his hand. You dodged that bullet.

Yeah. But I missed out on a lot, too.

Sure. But I’ve got lots of experience to share with you. Cody made a face and cocked his head. But not in a brotherly way, because that wouldn’t be right.

Demmy laughed. No, it wouldn’t.

I just meant in a lover kind of way, where it’s not inappropriate for our penises to touch.

You know, it’s okay to stop talking sometimes.

They reached the edge of the water and stood to look across the smooth surface, still holding hands. Demmy’s smaller hand felt so good and natural in his, Cody didn’t want to release him. The sun shimmered along the water, gleaming like fire, and for a moment Cody thought jumping in might burn them alive rather than cool them off.

No one comes here that much anymore, Demmy said. At least not that I’ve seen all the times we’ve released animals out here.

Yeah, kids are all up in their Instagram feeds or Snapchats or WhatsApp. They don’t have time to do kid stuff.

Is Snapchat still a thing?

I don’t know, Cody said. I’ll have to send Summer a text and ask.

Demmy grinned at the mention of Cody’s niece. She’s going to college soon. That’s crazy to think about.

I try not to. Cody faced him. Still want to skinny-dip?

An adorable blush tinted Demmy’s cheeks as he looked along the bank of the pond. I really do. I just don’t want to get caught.

But getting caught is part of the fun.

Maybe for you. Demmy waved a hand up and down in front of him. You look like that. All tall and beefy and handsome.

Hey. Cody tugged him in close and, despite how dirty and overheated he still felt, gave him a strong hug. You’re the most handsome, sexy, generous, caring man I know. And you’re my husband, so I should definitely know these things.

Yeah, all right. Demmy squeezed him in return, then pulled back and smiled. It was full of excitement and mischief, and Cody knew he’d remember that moment forever because Demmy rarely looked this excited. At least, not without mention of a monster in their midst. So, do we just strip right here?

I don’t see any changing rooms.

After he delivered a gentle—and well-deserved—smack on Cody’s arm, Demmy turned away and pulled his t-shirt over his head. Cody’s heart pounded as he sat on a rock to untie the laces of his boots. Even after all the years of friendship first,