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

what?  What were you shooting at?”
    “Elk.  There’s a cow and calf in town that I been chasing all morning.  Didn’t dare give it a try until the sun was up, but they’re plenty spooked now.  Haven’t been able to get a clean shot yet.”  Mr. Daniels finally picked himself up from the blundering position and brushed himself off.  “You all that’s left?” he asked, as he joined the officer on the station’s landing.
    “Not sure, but I’m afraid so.  I haven’t heard from anybody for about 36 hours.  How’s your family?”
    “There’s just me and th e wife.  We’re doing okay – hungry, of course.  I spent yesterday going through our neighborhood looking for food supplies.  Didn’t find much but had to ventilate . . . ” He suddenly stopped and tightened his hold on the Savage.
    “Relax Willie.  I’m not here to judge.  I’ve ‘ventilated’ a few myself and the sad truth is . . . we’re not done.  In fact, we may just be starting.”
    Daniels released the rifle’s forend with his left hand and allowed the barrel to pitch downward, supporting the gun’s weight with his right arm.  “When we gonna get some help?” he asked.  “Thought we’d have all kinds of police or military here by now.”
    “Me too, but I’m sure they’re on the way.  Just hang tough and take care of you and your wife.  That’s all you can really do for now.”  Lying didn’t come easy to the sturdy officer but there was no sense causing this man any more anxiety than he was already experiencing.  “Give me a minute to finish getting dressed and we’ll see about finding that elk.”
    A few minutes later, the police car rolled slowly through the streets of Banff with Willie hanging partially out the passenger window, his rifle at the ready.  “Holler out if you see ‘em,” Ziggy issued, from behind the steering wheel.  He’d grown tired of the riot gear and settled for aviator sunglasses with a mirror finish and a thin, linen mask.  A pair of cotton gloves protected his fingers from the cold, rather than his usual leather ones, knowing the lighter material would make shooting easier, if given the chance.
    “You got ‘ er,” Willie yelled back, not taking the time to pivot toward the driver.  He anxiously swept each passing street for signs of the animals.  “Nothing yet.  How ‘bout you?”
    “Nope – no . . . ” Zygmunt paused as they neared the park that paralleled the river.  “You see that?”
    “What?  Where you lookin’?”
    The officer brought the cruiser to a stop and pointed at the large, prominent structure in the middle of the grassed space.  “Over there, near the gazebo.  Looks like some predators got ahold of something.  We better check it out.”
    Willie made no attempt to step from the safety of the car.  “What do you mean, we?  I know exactly what’s over there and it weren’t no predator.  It was them damn Huskers.  They’ve left half eaten bodies all over town, some ripped to shreds but most hidden, like they were dragged someplace out of the way so they could eat ‘em.”
    “Very well, suit yourself but I gotta take a look.  Give me some notice if you see anything.”
    “Sure will, officer.”
    The scene was pretty much as Daniels had vaguely described it.  A partially ingested corpse lay at the bottom of the stairs, the face unrecognizable but clearly a big man.  He’d been dead a day or two, the cold helping to preserve the body and slow down the affects of decay.  Ziggy walked around what remained of the once powerful being.  He stopped and knelt to examine the head, being careful not to contact the frozen tissue.  “Hm, that’s new,” he whispered, presuming the cavernous wound in the man’s skull to be the result of a sharp, heavy weapon or something lighter, wielded by a very strong individual.
    Returning to his feet he noticed something else that was out of place on the floor of the gazebo.  He ventured up the few steps to