Monkey's Uncle

  Drunk Monkeys 2

  Monkey’s Uncle

  Apocalypse, shmocalypse. When you need a world saved right, you call in…the Drunk Monkeys.

  India Pelletier is a nurse at a clinic in Mexico. All she wants is to make a difference in people’s lives. When a doctor shows up to help, she thinks he was sent by the charity she works for.

  Twins Oscar and Yankee are part of the elite Drunk Monkeys special ops unit. Their mission? Save the world by finding the scientists who created the deadly Kite virus. When they track a doctor to India’s clinic, they never realized they’d find more than they bargained for in the feisty, resourceful nurse.

  Unfortunately, an unknown traitor still lurks in the shadows. With passion blooming between India and the brothers, will the Drunk Monkeys root out the mole before he strikes? Because India will be a monkey’s uncle before she’ll give up Oscar and Yankee…or pass up a chance to help stop Kite from destroying the world.

  Genre: Futuristic, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Science Fiction

  Length: 62,680 words

  MONKEY’S UNCLE

  Drunk Monkeys 2

  Tymber Dalton

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  MONKEY’S UNCLE

  Copyright © 2014 by Tymber Dalton

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-137-2

  First E-book Publication: July 2014

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Monkey’s Uncle by Tymber Dalton from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Tymber Dalton’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Dalton’s right to earn a living from her work.

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  DEDICATION

  To Hubby, who helps keep me sane, and still loves me and doesn’t freak out even when I leave sticky notes around for stories that say things like, “Don’t forget castration punishment.”

  Love you, honey! :)

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This is book two in the Drunk Monkeys series, and is Oscar and Yankee’s story. The books in the series are best read in order. All titles are available from Siren-BookStrand.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Author's Note

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  About the Author

  MONKEY’S UNCLE

  Drunk Monkeys 2

  TYMBER DALTON

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  “That damn, batshit crazy asshole fucker in charge there in Pyongyang is the one who stirred the shitpot. Then Beijing made him lick the goddamned spoon and nuked his fucking ass. Problem is, when they did that—not saying they weren’t justified, mind you—our first and best chance to reverse-engineer this clusterfuck went up in a mushroom cloud. All the rest of us could do was fucking bend over and pray for lube and a reacharound.”

  —Gen. Robert K. McCammeron (Our Last History? by Willard M. Sterling. Interview date May, 2143)

  “In the time since we first became aware of the virus, and the subsequent events that have followed, we’ve come to understand that we have no idea why, much less how, they [North Korea] created it. Unfortunately, when Beijing wiped Pyongyang off the map, they also wiped out any hope we had of creating an effective vaccine in a timely manner to prevent transmission to a majority of the world’s population. It’s estimated that within another five years, over ninety percent of the world’s population will either be dead or infected unless we get lucky and figure it out.”

  —Dr. Arnold P. Almer, CDC (Our Last History? by Willard M. Sterling. Interview date April, 2143)

  “In terms of [Kite, the drug’s] addictive nature, it makes meth look like baby aspirin.”

  —Kimberly Coates, PhD, University of Florida (February, 2143)

  “Well, fuck.”

  —President Charlotte Kennedy’s reported reaction upon learning that China authorized the use of nuclear weapons against North Korea on July 29, 2142, in response to Pyongyang allowing thousands of people they supposedly infected with the Kite virus to flood across the border into China several days earlier.

  “The Drunk Monkeys? Those crazy motherfuckers don’t exist. And boy, are they good at what they do. Thank god.”

&nb
sp; —Gen. Joseph Arliss (June, 2143)

  * * * *

  Long story short…

  It’s now April of 2143, approximately two weeks since we last left our globe-trotting group just arriving in Hawaii from Australia.

  When you mix a determined network researcher who wants to become an on-air reporter—code name Pandora—with a military Special Operations and Tactical Infiltration Force unit determined to fulfill their orders to save the world—SOTIF1, nicknamed the Drunk Monkeys—you might be shocked to find out they’ve defied all odds thus far.

  Then again, maybe you’re not shocked at all.

  There are fifteen names on “The List” being circulated worldwide. Doctors, scientists, researchers—all linked to the creation of Kite the virus and Kite the drug, which—long story short—led to China going all crankypants and nuking North Korea out of existence.

  Or TMFU, as the military dubbed it. Short for The Massive Fuckup.

  They do love themselves some acronyms, those military wonks.

  The Drunk Monkeys, following Pandora, located one Dr. Phe Quong in Australia. He was on The List.

  He received a code name, too—Q.

  Hey, the Drunk Monkeys are practical men and realize that, sometimes, simplicity is best.

  Unfortunately, the Drunk Monkeys have discovered a mole in the military food chain between them and General Joseph Arliss, the man they directly report to. Now the SOTIF team—along with Pandora and Q—have escaped from Australia to Hawaii and are planning their next move, as well as their next target acquisition from The List.

  Their standing orders until further notice? To locate as many people as possible from The List, keep them safe, and put them together so they can create a vaccine for the Kite virus.

  Since the men and women of The List were responsible for the Kite virus in the first place, it’s a pretty reasonable assumption for anyone to make that those jokers might be able to create a vaccine for it, too.

  Meanwhile, back in the States, there’s one Reverend Hannibal Silo, head of the Church of the Rising Sunset. He’s starting to stick his slimy fingers into things. He also wants to get his hands on a Kite vaccine—so he can control it. If he can do that, he knows it’ll cement his religious empire, bring his desire to become President of the United States to fruition, and secure his legacy to create a new world of his choosing.

  And thus we pick up where we left off in their adventures…

  * * * *

  The monkey business is just getting started…

  “So, where to next, boss?” Oscar stared at the table where the world map was spread out.

  Next to Oscar stood his twin brother Yankee, his arms crossed over his chest. Lance and Vance Lyons, who were rarely called that since becoming part of the elite SOTIF unit, were only distinguishable from each other by the fact that Vance, AKA Yankee, had a small scar on the left side of his jaw.

  Across the table, Papa and Alpha, the commander and second-in-command of their unit, both stared down at the map.

  They’d reached the end of their second week in Hawaii. Dr. Quong, now codenamed Q, was still working on trying to synthesize a vaccine for the Kite virus.

  The men gathered around the table didn’t bother looking up at the soft moan filtering from the bedroom closest to them.

  Oscar didn’t blame Doc, Tango, and Pandora for having wild monkey sex whenever they could, considering the circumstances.

  He just wished the men would shove a gag, or one of their cocks or something, in her mouth when they did.

  It was eleven o’clock at night, Hawaiian time. They all knew their hideout would only stay secure for so long before they’d have to flee the islands. The Kite virus hadn’t yet reached the state’s shores, but everyone realized it was only a matter of time before some boat managed to sneak infected refugees ashore, or an unauthorized airplane landed with people testing blue.

  And then all hell would break loose.

  The last place they could afford to be stuck when that happened was on the Hawaiian islands, quarantined in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, without access to more supplies or any practical way of finding the other scientists on The List.

  Q’s family had already been moved to safety from Hawaii to a different location, which only Papa and Alpha knew.

  Well, and Bubba, their guardian angel of intelligence back in Chicago. He knew because he’d helped arrange things. A computer whiz and now a patron saint of sorts, he was a friend and coworker of Pandora’s who’d turned out to be former special ops and military intel himself, working under General Arliss while he’d been enlisted. He was also now their only trustworthy, and highly secret, go-between with a direct line to General Arliss. With a mole in the official food chain between them and the general, they’d been ordered by the general to go OTG—off the grid—until further notice.

  In addition to Bubba’s help, Alpha had a CIA spook buddy in Hilo, who’d gotten them all new IDs, including Pandora and Q.

  Papa reached out and touched his finger to the map, along the western coast of Mexico. “How’s your Spanish, boys?” he asked.

  “Fuck,” Yankee muttered next to Oscar. “I hate tacos.”

  “Since when?” Oscar asked.

  “Since that last time we went back to Philly to visit Mom, when we went out and got shitfaced and ate at Taco Terrace.”

  Oscar snorted. “That was the tequila that made you sick, asshole, not the tacos.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Quack, Lima, Foxtrot, and Kilo were all outside taking their turn on watch. Everyone else, except for the four of them and Q, was grabbing rack time.

  Another soft moan drifted from the bedroom.

  Well, excluding Doc, Tango, and Pandora. Technically they were in a rack, just not sleeping at the present moment.

  Yankee and Oscar, along with Roscoe and Niner, were due for watch in less than an hour. Yankee and Oscar had been camped out on the floor of the shared bedroom, with Doc, Tango, and Pandora getting the bed.

  Which explained why the lovebirds were now taking advantage of their alone time, before Quack and Lima wanted to grab floor space to sleep.

  Twenty-two of them shoved together in a four-bedroom house wasn’t exactly torture when the men of the Drunk Monkeys were used to surviving in adverse conditions.

  Yankee knew this likely might be their best safe house for the duration of their time OTG.

  He certainly wouldn’t bitch about it.

  “By air or by sea?” Alpha asked.

  Papa scratched at the stubble on his chin. “I haven’t decided yet. We already know we can secure passage on a boat. It’ll just take us a lot longer to get where we need to go. Air would be a lot faster, but it’s not like Victor can pilot a fixed-wing large enough, and with enough fuel capacity, to get us all there safely.”

  “Not to mention,” Oscar quipped, “that the military or civvies here in Hawaii might notice and object to something that size suddenly going missing.”

  Papa smiled. “Yes, there is that.”

  “By boat, you mean another military ship?” Yankee asked.

  “Not another one. The Gramble-Goodley.”

  “You think your uncle can risk it again?” Oscar asked.

  Papa shrugged. His uncle was the captain of the neobattlecruiser that had secretly whisked them to safety from Australia. Currently, it lay anchored in Pearl Harbor. “I talked to him earlier today. He said they’re sending them out to patrol the California coastline, up and down past Baja, to watch for refugees.”

  “I think that answers the question quite definitively, doesn’t it?” Yankee observed.

  “Just thinking things through,” Papa said. “You know the drill.”

  “Did Q ever regain contact with Dr. Patel?” Oscar asked.

  “No,” Papa said. “Bubba’s working on it on his end. We can’t count on a safe house there. However”—his finger lazily circled the town of Colima, Mexico, on the map—“we have reason to believe Dr. Peter McInn
is might have made his way to Mexico and be in this area. The intel’s good as of twenty-four hours ago. Bubba trusts it.”

  “Mexico’s a large place,” Oscar said. “Did he just throw a dart at the western coast, or does he have a reason to believe McInnis is headed to that particular slice of hell?”

  Papa smiled. “Bubba has a hunch.”

  Chapter Two

  Yankee didn’t have to go wake up Roscoe and Niner for their watch. They emerged from the bedroom they were sharing with four other guys less than thirty minutes before their shift was due to start.

  “I hope we get off this rock soon,” Niner griped. “I don’t like it here.”

  Oscar stared at him. “What the fuck’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with it?”

  “I don’t like feeling trapped. At least in Australia, it was a big damn place. These islands are tiny. Vulnerable. You don’t feel it?”

  “I feel it,” Yankee agreed. “I’m just not in a hurry to vacate the digs.”

  The house they currently occupied sat alone on a hillside, nestled inside of and practically hidden by a thick jungle of trees. The road below was easily visible, however, and the winding driveway leading up to their hideout had no other occupants living along it.

  Someone approaching their location would be easily spotted before they got too close to the house.

  They’d also better have a damn good reason for dropping by unannounced.

  The men started their watch shift, Yankee and Oscar in the front, Roscoe and Niner up above on the hillside behind the house. It was close to one o’clock in the morning when Yankee heard Oscar let out a soft whistle.