God Of The Dead by M.C. Norris

Author:M.C. Norris [Norris, M.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2015-01-08T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The train whistle released a long and mournful scream that resounded for miles over the flatlands. Malcom watched their steam locomotive chug westward out of the station, and off into the starless gulfs. His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. They were alone, three hundred miles behind what felt like enemy lines. The feeling of abandonment, that separation anxiety, was not unlike that which he’d experienced over in Afghanistan, every time he’d watched a chopper flying away into the night, leaving him and his men with some terrible task to perform before they could return to whatever place they called home. Over there, at least, he was in the company of the world’s most elite Special Forces unit, armed to the teeth, equipped with cutting edge technology, multiple lines of communication. Here, there were no lifelines.

“Let’s go,” he said, straddling the seat of one the two mountain bikes that the engineers had provided them. “We need to get the away from this train station.” He waited for Cecile to clamber unsteadily onto her bicycle, and together they began to peddle¸ northbound toward the place called Zurich, Kansas.

The open road was nothing but a death trap. Only one two-lane highway ran for thirty miles from the train station in Hays to their junction point in Plainville. Their enemies could be encamped in every draw, glassing the road from positions atop the limestone bluffs. Out here, if they were spotted, they’d be captured and killed. It was just that simple. To be seen meant certain death, and those deaths would be anything but quick. Whether or not Cecile was right about being the Hunters’ primary target, their stripped and tethered bodies would still provide their captors with the same long hours of gruesome entertainment out here on the ashen plains, where no living thing would ever hear their screams.

“Let’s ride parallel to the highway, but keep distanced from it by at least a half-mile,” he said, veering westward, out across the open pasture. It was a dark night. The only lights by which to see were the hot pulses of electromagnetic energy that flared maleficently through the low canopy of clouds. These dull flashes were sufficient to maintain a course parallel to the tops of distant telephone poles.

Malcolm’s tires rumbled over the hard, packed earth, popping aggregate fossils of seashells. It appeared that this region, the heart of the so-called Great American Desert, was stricken with extended periods of drought. Ironic that, at time’s beginning this parched veldt was down at the bottom of a primordial sea. Burning pillars of electrons leapt from distant landforms to probe the sky. There was a chill in the air. It felt as though the weather might take a turn for the worse. Southern winds pummeled their backs, urging them onward toward their bleak destination.

“I think it’s going to storm.”

Malcolm heard Cecile’s voice, thin and tremulous over the vibrations of rocks beneath her tires. What could the Hunters possibly want with her? He

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