Free Rise of the Huskers (The Raven Falconer Chronicles) by Dennis Larsen Page B

skiers, travelers and holiday shoppers were equally quiet and unencumbered.  The city’s power, non-existent for days, pushed those still hanging on to search for homes with gas or propane heat.  ‘Adapt and improvise’ were keywords repeated over and over again around kitchen tables and fireplaces throughout the small community.  It had been some time since the last snowfall and temperatures had stabilized near zero.  Puddles that were liquid by day froze overnight, creating mirror-like hazards to be avoided first thing in the morning.  The locals knew the routine but visitors, too often, learned the hard way with resultant broken bones and bruised rumps.  A thermometer, designed to look like a candy cane being held by a grizzly bear, hung on an exterior wall outside a souvenir shop kitty-corner from where Nathan sat, rubbing the scruff of beard that covered his face.  It itched and irritated the self-proclaimed leader but he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it, other than to scratch when the urge hit.
    A lack of humidity and warmer temperatures had proven beneficial for the Huskers, hunting had been good and the pack was ‘learning’.  Learning the way a wolf cub watches its parents track, surround, attack and consume prey.  The assault on his group in the early hours of the night had caught Nathan off guard.  They’d battled for supremacy before, losing some along the way, which neither mattered to him nor gave him pause, but there was something about the blatant attack that troubled him.  He tried, without success, to comprehend the range of emotions that raged just below his consciousness.  Fear, anger, excitement, lust and a consuming hunger to satisfy them all – right now, was boiling up inside him as he watched movement in the building across the way.  Had he been restored to his full capacity after the infection he would have recognized the neurological and hormonal rush to be the result of a salacious desire for power and revenge.  The carnal impulse placed him just above the animal order his followers so perfectly mimicked.  Nathan, still more beast than human, thirsted for the next intoxicating release of endorphins to flood his system and make him ‘feel’.  He’d felt it the night before, chasing and killing the hikers, then again when he’d taken the woman in the shower, and he would feel it again, soon.
    Light suddenly jumped out at the Husker from across the street but did not envelope him.  The distance protected Nathan from view and the moon’s gentle glow did little more than provide an amber haze to the surrounding darkness.  A door had opened and a slender woman with dark hair, ext ending from under a stocking toque, had stepped out onto a landing.   She was quickly followed by a larger, male figure carrying an assault rifle.  He watched the two interact, their silhouettes easily outlined against the backdrop of the partially opened door and the indoor lights.  Rich, oxygenated blood pulsed through his arteries, the plasma picking up speed as his breathing synchronized with his thumping heart.  A landslide of heightened senses and arousal spurred him to action and he dropped to a knee.  Seconds later the hatchet was freed from his side, the metallic end pressed to the ground, supporting his weight.
    Lurking in the dark he looked like a monster, ready to pounce and destroy, every muscle taut and nerve raw.  H ours passed as he watched and waited for just the right opportunity to sweep in and strike.  The projected, rectangular beam of light abruptly narrowed and then disappeared, being sucked back into the building from whence it had come.  Nathan lowered himself to the ground and began the long crawl over the slick, wet surface of the road until his belly felt crystalline blades of grass scratching and digging at the tender flesh.  The stalker army-crawled another ten meters before he knelt on one knee to survey his surroundings.  When he did, an intense