Page 367 - Hunter - The Vigil

“Two of the Suburbans are taking off.”

Humphrey nodded. “Let them go. They’re not the ones we want.”
Reluctantly, Vince nodded and continued to watch the third SUV. Sure enough, 10
minutes later, the six Russians returned, carrying a pair of shrouded fi gures. “They’ve
got two bodies with them,” he said. “Probably the old guy we saw when we entered the
apartment, plus the man Raimundo shot.” He glanced at Humphrey. “Are they —”
“Sacrifi ces,” Humphrey said. “We cost them a lot of food earlier tonight. Their masters
will expect them to make amends.”
Vince watched the men load the bodies into the back of the Suburban. As the SUV pulled
away from the curb, Gabreski eased the van onto the street and headed after them.

To Vince’s surprise, the Suburban led them back to the warehouse. Heedless of the
bodies and slipped quickly inside.
yellow crime-scene tape covering the building’s doors, the Russians unloaded the two
“They’re heading for that damned hole,” Vince grumbled.
“Back in Moscow, the ghouls made their home in the city’s sewers,” Humphrey said.
Vince thought back to the broken bricks jutting from the walls of the rough-hewn pit.
But were they actually bricks, he wondered, or cobblestones? “They’ve broken into the
the 1900s.”
city’s old sewer network,” he said. “Those tunnels have been abandoned since at least
“We’d better get moving, then,” Humphrey said. “Unless you want to spend hours hunting
these things through a pitch-black maze.”
Within minutes, they had gathered their weapons and headed out into the early-morning
snow. They all carried rifl es supplied by Raimundo’s gang: M-16s and AK-74s, along with
a couple of clips of ammo per person. Vince knew from experience that the bullets they
fi red could drill a hole through plate steel at 30 yards.
Gabreski took the lead as they reached the warehouse. Using the night-vision goggles,
he peered through the open doorway and looked for signs of movement. Seeing none, he
stepped inside and made his way to the pit.

The Russians had lowered a pair of aluminum ladders into the hole. In the pale green
glow of the goggles, Vince could see the hole was about 15 feet deep, and connected to
a brick-lined tunnel that ran underneath the building.
tunnel.
Shouldering his rifl e, Vince made for the nearest ladder and descended into the
The air inside the passageway was cold, and stank of rotting meat. A faint glow down
the passageway to the right suggested the receding light of lanterns or fl ashlights.
Moving carefully and quietly, Vince set off after them.
As it happened, they didn’t have very far to go. The stench of decay grew stronger.
Vince fought to keep his gorge down. He’d been close to rotting bodies before at one
before.
murder scene or another, but this was far worse than anything he’d ever encountered

He realized he was getting closer to the glow up ahead. The Russians had come to a
stop. Faint voices echoed through the darkness.
Vince raised his weapon. Crouching low, he continued to edge his way forward.
Up ahead, the tunnel seemed to widen into a larger chamber. Vince could see the glow
in Russian.
of lantern light fl ickering on old, stained, brick walls. A man’s voice said something
A voice answered. It was guttural and deep, and completely alien. Vince’s skin crawled
at the sound. Suddenly, the rifl e in his hands seemed entirely inadequate.
A small part of his mind pointed out that he didn’t have to go any further. He could
turn around and make his way back to the surface, and forget everything he’d seen.
He didn’t have to die like Darnell.
But he would be damned if he let those bastards get away with what they’d done.
Tightening his grip on the rifl e, Vince crept to the end of the tunnel.