Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
It was dusk by the time Raven reached the outskirts of Haven wildlife refuge.
She skirted the perimeter of the park outside the fence until she neared the front gates of the refuge, then crouched in the underbrush near the front of the lodge. Her pack weighed heavily against her spine, but she feared going anywhere without it.
Cautiously, from her position hidden in the bushes outside the fence, she listened and waited. Crickets whirred in the long grass. An owl hooted from somewhere nearby. The air smelled of smoke.
A few dozen motorcycles were parked along the drive at the park entrance. The semi-truck had arrived. The rear of the truck was backed up to the food storage buildings, the rear doors hanging open, the interior empty. The men hadn’t begun loading yet.
About forty Headhunters crowded around the ten picnic tables in front of the Grizzly Grill. All were men except for one or two hard-looking women. They mostly did the cooking and cleaning, it seemed.
Loud voices drew her attention. She forced her anger down and shifted her focus to the group of Headhunters.
Scorpio wore a collection of three fox pelts across his broad shoulders.
The lush red tails rippled down his back.
He stood in front of the large grill, turning slabs of meat.
Damien stood next to him, his back to Raven.
The delicious scent reached her nostrils. She could guess the meat.
Beside the grill, Vaughn held a chunk of grilled meat in his bare hands, ripping out chunks with his teeth. Juices dribbled down his chin. Scorpio laughed and took another swig of bourbon. Cobb slumped at a picnic table, picking at his teeth with a twig.
Dekker wasn’t eating. He wasn’t smiling or laughing or swearing with the others. He paced in front of the picnic tables, his movements languid but his shoulders tense, his body coiled as if ready to spring, alert as any predator. His eyes blazed with bloodlust.
She spotted the men she’d wounded yesterday hunched at one of the picnic tables. Their wounds were bandaged, probably from the first aid kit in the lodge. They nursed bottles of bourbon they’d stolen from the restaurant’s bar.
Would the Headhunters search for a hospital after they left the refuge? Were there any functioning hospitals left?
Right now, she didn’t care. She hoped their wounds developed gangrene. She prayed they died horrific, agonizing, slow deaths, screaming for their mamas.
One of the picnic tables was loaded with piles of guns—mostly semi-automatic rifles, handguns, revolvers, and a few hunting knives sheathed in leather.
On the last picnic table, several raw pelts were stretched to dry. Timber wolf pelts. She recognized Echo, Loki, and Suki’s dark gray fur.
Anger scorched through her, turning her veins to ash. The foxes had never hurt anyone. The wolves were primal beauty and grace in motion.
They were all beautiful. The Headhunters had slaughtered them.
Her stomach lurched with grief and anger. She forced herself to stay focused, to tamp down her rage. At least Kodiak and Sage’s pelts were missing. As were Electra’s and many of the other animals. Hopefully, they’d made it far enough away to be safe.
Luna’s mournful howls echoed from the direction of the tiger house. The Headhunters must have locked her in Vlad’s chamber.
Raven couldn’t wait any longer. Though the sky was darkening into twilight, it wasn’t completely dark yet. The Headhunters would finish eating and drinking shortly.
They’d soon be in the mood for killing.
They’d butcher Luna. Then they’d come for Raven.
Raven shifted her position, moving to her hands and knees, and crept along the fence line, cautious with each movement.
If they heard her, it was all over. Luckily, their raucous voices were loud enough to cover any accidental sounds she made.
Keeping low to the ground, she traced the perimeter fence line back to the location of the maintenance shed. After checking to make sure the electrified wires were still disabled, she clambered back over the fence and raced low across open ground until she reached the shed.
Slipping inside, she rose to her feet as she strained her ears for any change in the noise coming from the picnic area. The loud, boisterous voices continued.
She fumbled for a lighter from the dusty top shelf, stuffed it in her cargo pocket, and wiped her grimy fingers on her pants. She grabbed two containers of gasoline and backed out of the shed.
Ignoring the meat house, she made her way to the food storage building. She drenched the weathered wooden siding in gasoline, then peeked in the single window to make sure no one was inside before entering.
The stench of rotting fruit filled her nostrils. Undaunted, she poured gasoline over the pallets and shelves, the bags and boxes and containers full of precious, life-sustaining food.
Food that could feed her for over a year. It was also food the Headhunters desperately wanted. If she couldn’t save it, then she would take it from them. They wouldn’t have a reason to stay with the food destroyed.
Even more importantly, burning the food also served the crucial purpose of a much-needed distraction. If the Headhunters were drawn to the fire, they wouldn’t be paying attention to the tiger house.
The oily stench of the gas churned her stomach. Dizziness wavered through her. She fought it off. After she’d finished, Raven backed out, splashing a trail with the last of the gasoline. She tossed the container aside and pulled the lighter out of her pocket.
Twilight had fallen in earnest. The sky deepened to rich indigo. Bats whirled and darted above the treetops. The first stars winked to life. The wind picked up, carrying with it the tang of ozone. Dark clouds glowered thick and low over the horizon.
Raven glanced upward. A storm was headed their way, after all. In a couple of hours, the rain would come. The storm would ensure the fire didn’t spread further than the refuge.
She didn’t hesitate. She lit the lighter, dropped it onto the saturated grass, and leaped back.
Flames whooshed to life.
The fire raced along the trail of gasoline straight into the food storage building. The fire licked the walls hungrily. Swiftly, it flared into a blaze, consuming the old wood, eating through the boards, burning through the gas-soaked interior with startling fury.
Raven watched the fire for a moment. Heat seared her face. Her eyes watered. She blinked and coughed. An acrid stench stung her nostrils, her eyes.
The air went blurry with the intensity of the heat. Crackling and popping sounds filled the air. Wood splintered and heaved. Everything bathed in a flickering orange light.
Thick black smoke rose in a billowing column. A signal, a warning.
Panicked shouts rose over the crackling roar of the fire.
Time to go.