Down a Dark Road (When Heroes Flew Book 4) by H. W. "Buzz" Bernard

Author:H. W. "Buzz" Bernard [Bernard, H. W. "Buzz"]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn River Publishing
Published: 2023-05-08T16:00:00+00:00

GUNSKIRCHEN LAGER

UPPER AUSTRIA

14

Gunskirchen, Austria

May 4, 1945

Bowerman held the Jeep at such a slow speed that the bumps and dips in the track they followed went unnoticed. Jim thought he caught movement deep in the pines once and lifted his Colt .45 into firing position. But nothing materialized. Maybe a soft breeze had merely moved the branch of a tree and caused a shadow to dance in the sunlight. He lowered his weapon. Bowerman continued to ease the Jeep along in the barely visible ruts.

Finally, the track became impassable, blocked by pines that stood like dark, towering spikes in the duff-covered forest floor. Bowerman parked the Jeep after turning it around, just in case they had to make a rapid exit back along the path they’d been following. The men dismounted.

Jim drew a deep breath. Stopped. Wrinkled his nose.

“What on earth?” he whispered.

A whiff of a stink unlike anything he’d ever encountered seared his nostrils.

“Not an ammo depot, that’s for damn sure,” Bowerman muttered.

“God, must be an old slaughterhouse around here,” Mo said, his words barely audible.

A puff of a breeze wafted the reek away and the men moved on, pushing deeper—cautiously—into the pine forest. The thick canopy of the trees held the woods in deep shadow, a dimness that seemed unnatural on a bright spring day, almost as if they had entered uncharted land, a place devoid of light and life.

Jim thought of a medieval history class he’d taken at the University of Oregon. In ancient times, maps often carried sketches of mythical beasts to represent the guardians of unexplored territories. To warn of such dangers, mapmakers sometimes entered the inscription “Here Be Dragons.” He wondered, idly, strangely, if they were stepping into a place where “there be dragons.”

The men continued silently through the eerie dusk, treading softly over the pulpy floor of the forest. Jim sensed they had, indeed, entered a land where mythical creatures lurked, though he couldn’t imagine for the life of him in what form they might be. He knew only—but had no idea why—that they were there.

Again, a fetid breath of air drifted over the men. They halted, puzzled, repulsed, unsure of what lay ahead.

Then a dragon stepped from the gloom. No, not a dragon. A human. No, not a human. Jim stared, stunned, realizing he couldn’t classify it. A former human, perhaps? Skeletal. Crepe paper skin. Unwashed, Filthy. Stinking. Tatters of cloth hanging from its frame like wind-shredded flags on a stormy coast.

It—Jim had no idea whether it was a man or a woman—stumbled toward him, bony arms outstretched, hands gnarled, fingers curled like talons. Its mouth moved, but only a dry rasp reached Jim’s ears.

More cadaverous beings materialized from the gloaming, some hobbling, some crawling, others walking, then falling, then picking themselves up only to fall again. All around them, motionless bodies lay in the forest. Not a few. Hundreds. Corpses.

Jim holstered his weapon, took a step back, unable to speak.

And then the stench swarmed over him. Permeating. Deep. Choking. He gagged, retreated another step.

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