Rise of the Huskers (The Raven Falconer Chronicles) Read Free

wasn’t there earlier or we would have noticed it.”
    “For sure, wasn’t there this afternoon.  Is it the same color as your dad’s?”
    “I don’t know.  It’s at the wrong angle.  I better walk over and take a look.”
    “Raven, are you nuts?  That corpse is likely a Husker and there’s blood everywhere.  I don’t think we even dare drive through that crap.  It’ll contaminate my Jeep for days.”
    “We’ve come this far.  I need to find my dad.  I’m going to pull a little closer . . . ”
    “Damn it, Rave.  Listen to me.  I know you’re hurting but infecting you . . . me, the others won’t help your cause.  Your dad’s not here; he could be anywhere.”
    Raven shifted uneasily in her seat, suppressing the urge to lash out and verbally assault her friend.  She knew what Mick was saying was true, but the overwhelming need for closure pressed her on.  “I get that.  I really do.  Let’s just take a little closer look.  I won’t get near the blood.  Maybe there’s a way around it without getting it on the jeep.”
    Mick shook her head in disbelief as Raven rolled the Jeep forward.  “Stop!  That’s far enough.  Raven, I love you and will do anything for you but this is insane.  This was a nasty fight.  How do we know the virus isn’t airborne or dripping from trees?  I’m not going any closer.  If you need to explore beyond this point, I’m afraid you’re on your own.”
    “Fine,” Raven said, slamming the Jeep into park and jumping from the driver’s door.
    “Rave!  For heaven’s sake, Raven, don’t get any closer.”
    The fair-skinned girl walk ed slowly toward the body, slipping the mask over her mouth and nose.  She tried to avoid the crushing urge to breathe rapidly; fearful she might hyperventilate.  Mick watched from the safety of the cab, praying her friend would come to her senses and return to the Jeep.  “Come on, Rave,” she whispered.  “There’s nothing more to see here.”  A loud bark suddenly erupted from the back seat, where Pooch had been frantically pacing.  Her head was now thrust over the front seat, tongue hanging oddly askew until she spotted Raven.  The dog’s attention was immediately focused on the meandering figure, watching intently, and barking at the very moment she sensed Raven was in danger.
    Seconds later, Raven responded to what she’d seen, as well as the warning from the girl’s new mascot, and ran the few meters back to the Jeep.   Plunging into the driver’s seat, she whipped the mask from her face and declared, “It’s Benny!  I’m sure of it.  It’s Benny Necula and the bumper is definitely my dad’s.”

Chapter 2
    RCMP Officer, Zygmunt Nowicki, snored, sucking great gulps of air down his windpipe only to expel them moments later with a series of lip-smacking ‘poo – poo – poo’s’ .  He suddenly flinched, rolling onto his side, bringing the noise to a standstill but perpetuating the sensation that he was lying in an irrigation ditch in Afghanistan.  The veteran’s knees jerked awkwardly as he reflexively crawled through the mud and stench, searching for a safe place to hunker down while bullets whistled overhead.
    Shouts filled the air, “I’m hit!  Medic, I need a medic!”  Ziggy pressed his head firmly into the pillow’s soft folds, imagining his helmet sinking into the saturated mud of the earthen trough.  Sweat filled his eyes, adding to the overall discomfort of the oft-recycled nightmarish event.  In his mind, he pushed a mounting fear aside and raised his brow to the edge of the embankment, searching the horizon for movement, friend or foe.
    Instantly, a loud, single report from a large caliber rifle shook the officer, rousting him from the unfortunate dream.  Dazed and more than a little confused, he scanned the cell in which he’d spent the night locked behind steel, reinforced bars, with the key safely tucked under his pillow.  Nowicki kicked the blankets off and swept