Read C.O.T.V.H. (Book 3): Extermination for Free Online Page B

movie about angry killer birds over a guy that exterminates bugs any day of the week."
    "You two continue your little movie debate while I go and make sure this house is a den for bloodsucking vampires.  Is that okay with you two?  Unbelievable." John said unable to keep from laughing.  He shook his head in amazement and reached over Cort, opening the glove compartment pulling out his .45 Colt M1911.  Stepping out of the truck he tucked it into his waistband then covered it with his shirt.  He grabbed a clipboard and white hardhat off the seat between him and Cort then slammed the door shut.  With his flannel shirt he could have easily passed for a construction foreman or possibly someone that worked for the gas company.  "Be right back," he said, pulling the hardhat over his hair.
    Jake watched closely as John walked up to the front door and knocked several times. After no answer he tried to peer in the window then walked out of sight around the back of the house.  Jake looked over at his Grandpa who was still focusing all of his attention on the birds above.  Jake shifted nervously in the back seat.
    "Don't worry son.  Your dad is fine.  He's just making sure this is the right spot. Believe me you don't want to burst in guns blazing and wipe out some poor family up watching Saturday morning cartoons," Cort said finally pulling his gaze away from the buzzards.
    Before Jake could ask him to elaborate if he meant Wes Turner, John came back and opened Jake's door.  "Looks like the place."
    "Really?  What was your first clue?  The smell of rotting flesh or the six thousand buzzards chewing on the shingles?" Cort said.
    John ignored him.  Jake climbed out of the truck and began coughing uncontrollably. He could literally taste the stench.  John reached into his back pocket and pulled out a red bandana and tossed it to him.  "Tie that around your face, it will help."
    Cort reached into the cab of the truck and pulled a little container of salve from the glove box.  "Dab some of that under and inside your nose."
    Jake did as he was told and the cool vapors filled his sinuses, slightly softening the stench, he then tied the bandana over his mouth and nose.  Cort and John didn't even seem to notice the smell.  Jake wanted to impress them so he sucked it up and pretended it didn't bother him either.
    John walked around to the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate pulling Jake’s duffel out.  Jake unzipped it, pulling his body armor suit out.  He slipped into it then zipped it up over his chest.  He moved around trying to break it in.  “You would think at some point this thing would stop itching so bad!” he complained, pulling the suit away from his crotch.
    Next John pulled the gun cases out.  He loaded The Cleaner with triple-ought buckshot and handed it to Jake.  Jake cocked the lever and added one more shell then slung it over his shoulder.
    Both of the older men opened their own cases and checked and loaded their weapons. John carried Jake’s former gun, a Mossberg 500 12 gauge pump, while Cort strapped a large gun belt around his waist.  On one hip he carried his six-inch barrel .357 Colt Python.  On the other hip sat his foot long, bone handled Bowie knife.  His new and untested M16, he left in the case but open where he could get to it if the need arose.
    Cort noticed Jake staring up at the large house and walked up to him laying a hand on his shoulder.  He squeezed it tightly.  "Don't worry Jake.  You'll be all right, just remember everything you learned from us and from your trainers."
    Jake nodded, not taking his eyes off of the terrifying task before him.  He’d run countless breaching drills during his training.  But this time it wasn’t going to be Drill Sergeant Ortega or Sgt. Major Castle waiting for him with a dozen traps to leave him swinging in the air, or trapped in a hole in the floor.  No, this was real.  Somewhere inside that house, hidden in a closet, or a