Ghost Soldiers Read Online Free PDF Page B

approaching the RV at an angle. Gaping holes riddled the entire side of the RV, and though he saw no flames, smoke poured off the edges of the holes as if some kind of acid ate away at the metal. The rear tire had dissolved off the rim, leaving tendrils and patches of melted rubber on the metal and asphalt. The reek of the smoke made his eyes burn, and he hurried out of the cloud, thankful he didn’t have to breathe.
    The dead man near the RV’s steps had been ripped open, his chest nothing more than a gaping hole. A caul of blood hid most of his face, down to the heavy lines around his mouth and the sagging skin around his chin. More droplets of blood speckled his gray hair. Karl knelt near him, cradling the long rifle as he scented the wounds.
    Werewolves. No mistake.
    More than one, judging from the tangled scents and the range in length and width of the bite wounds and claw marks. Most wolf packs had firm laws against hunting humans nowadays, generally punishable by death. A complete opposite of vampires, who preyed on humans almost exclusively. He’d had dealings with the Blackstone wolves in Boston, and he couldn’t imagine them savaging a man like this. Hell, Karl had killed a werewolf for the Thorn once, a long time ago, but it had been a rogue wolf, half-insane with grief and loss, rage and pain. A mercy killing.
    But they’d shown no mercy here. They’d ripped the man apart like frenzied, mindless animals.
    He stood and opened the door to the RV, making no sound as he climbed the steps. The thick reek of blood ambushed him, smothering in its crimson strength. Blood painted the walls in tacky splashes. More scrambled scents were all intermixed and difficult to isolate, but through the mess he caught something foul, the corrupt reek of something much uglier than rogue wolves.
    Ghouls. Flesh eaters. He searched the RV, again wishing he had his SIG 9mm or one of Xie’s shotguns for clearing enclosed spaces. The sniper rifle was cumbersome and near useless in close quarters.
    He found what was left of an old woman’s body in the tiny bathroom inside the shower stall. Her body had been flayed, gnawed, her limbs and torso devoured of all fat and muscle and organs. Bailey moaned over the headset—a helpless sound of horror. He turned away.
    Ghouls? Rogue wolves? What the hell was going on? Karl left the RV and headed for the tractor trailer. It had plowed off the road and slammed into a tree, shattering the tree trunk and smashing the cab. The driver’s door hung partially open. He approached cautiously, rifle up and ready. Still no sounds from the surrounding forest. No insects. No night creatures scurrying through the underbrush.
    The truck driver’s severed head had rolled against one of the rig’s wheels, his green hat still pulled down low on his head. His body hung half in, half out of the truck cab, sprays of tacky blood staining the weeds and dirt, and more blood puddled beneath his body. The air stank of antifreeze, engine oil and diesel. Blood, of course. Metal. Terror.
    No ghouls though, and his body hadn’t been eaten. Why not? Why leave a free meal? Nothing here made sense.
    The tractor cab had been scorched and riven in places, and the upper side looked as if it had been attacked by the Jaws of Life. The sensation of magic lingered, seeming to sublimate off the metal, reminding him of the place where the vampire had been captured after killing the woman in the Yugo.
    â€œLooks like spell damage,” Bailey said over the com. “Magicslingers.”
    Karl stepped away from the truck and saw the last corpse.
    The man had been lashed naked to a road sign warning of the sharp curve ahead. The wire bound him to the sign so tightly it cut into his bare skin and neck. His head lolled to the side, and where the dead woman in the Yugo had looked to the trees, this man’s empty gaze fixed on a jagged mountain peak.
    â€œOh God…” Bailey whispered