“Got it,” Barb said, retargeting to the left of the domed area. The Old Ones were soaking up the fire to get to the party, pouring through the opening on the far side of the dome.
She had nine magazines in ready pouches. She’d laid three of those out on the rocks, ready to hand. She ran through those in less than a minute, then scrabbled for more in her pouches.
The only thing that kept them alive was that the Old Ones were choked by the opening to the dome, the narrowness of the passage and the two shooters on the top. None of them even got across the domed area. But the entire area was covered in ichor and deliquescing Old Ones by the time she slid in her last magazine.
“We don’t have the ammo for this,” Attie said. “I’ve only got two hundred more rounds of forty-five.” With thirty rounds per magazine, that was only eight and a half mags. One more heavy firefight.
“We’ve reduced their numbers, at least,” Barb said, her face tight. “But you’re right. We don’t have any clue how many more of these things there are. We need to pull out and regroup. If we’re going to do it this way, we need more people and more ammo.”
“That means we have to go back in that damned mud,” Janea said. She’d been unhappily covering the back door alone during the fight.
“Would you rather be eaten?” Barb asked.
CHAPTER TEN
“This whole caving thing is throwing off my sense of time,” Barb said as she dragged her aching body out of the cave opening above the Boone house. It was nearly three in the morning and raining.
“Ah, clean water,” Janea said as she stood up gratefully. With the exception of the serpentine keyhole passage, the entire trip had been either crawling or on hands and knees. “I need a shower, a real meal and about two days’ sleep.”
“We’ve got all three available,” a voice above her said.
“Holy Freya!” Janea snapped, raising her weapon and triggering the light.
“Ouch,” the ghillie-covered man said, raising an arm to shield his eyes. “That smarts. Mind taking that light out of my eyes?”
“Who are you?” Barb asked, pointing her own light to the side.
“Just a passing stranger who wondered what might come out of the cave,” the man said. “We’ve basically taken over the neighborhood. You can get a shower, and a meal, down the hill. Oh, welcome back, by the way. Although I just lost some money.”
“Delta Force,” Graham said to the first question asked when the team found him. “They’ve sent in a full squadron and are covering this opening as well as a couple of others. There’s a battalion from the 82nd that’s setting up in Goin, a SEAL team on the way from the Little Creek, and the National Guard is in the process of fully clearing the area. We’ve taken residence of most of the houses in the neighborhood. There’s even another SC team here. You can head over to their house for showers and some rest. What happened? Did you find the Gar?”
“I don’t think we even got close,” Randell said. “But we were running low on ammo.”
“That bad?” Graham said.
“That bad,” Barb said, shrugging. “The cave was filled with them. I’m not sure how many we killed. A bunch. And I’m pretty sure there were more. We heard some scrabbling behind us on the way out.”
“Look, we’ll do something like a full report in the morning,” Janea said. “I’m whipped. And not in a good way. Sergeant Struletz? Do me a favor and after you get cleaned up, come over to the SC house. I need to worship. Oh, wait, you’d find that a sin, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Struletz said, unhappily. “And I don’t think that ‘I figured I could just confess’ would sit well with my priest.”
“Master Sergeant?” she said. “Married, right. Okay, Randell?”
“So I’m third choice?” the FBI agent said.
“I could go find a Delta if you’d prefer,” she said.
“Nope,” Randell said, raising a hand. “Be there with bells on. I’m not planning on converting, though.”
“Sharice,” Barb said happily, as Barb and Janea wandered into the kitchen of the house. “I’d hug you, but you don’t want to get this muck on you.”
The homes in the neighborhood still held most of the furniture and possessions of the owners. They had been seized under eminent domain, but the rules were “use carefully.” After the emergency was over, the owners would be back and the government would pay for any damages. Assuming the entire region wasn’t swarmed by Old Ones.
The old witch, who these days rarely left the compound of the Foundation, was one of Barb’s favorite people. Elderly, wise and accepting, she was also one of the most powerful Wiccans in the world. If anyone besides Barb could handle a skru-gnon, it would be Sharice.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Sharice said, smiling brightly. “And there is the cat,” she added, looking at Lazarus. He’d stopped to clean himself, as he’d been doing repeatedly since getting out of the cave. “I have some premium cat food around here for you. Vivian!”
“Yes, mistress,” a plump young brunette said, coming into the kitchen. “Welcome back, questers! Merry moon and a fair day.” She bobbed a curtsey and smiled. Like Sharice, she was wearing a paisley dress, and was about covered in silver jewelry.
“Merry moon,” Barb said, nodding to her. “We met in Chattanooga but I never got your name.”
“Vivian Le Strange, Janea and the redoubtable Mrs. Everette,” Sharice said. “Vivian is one of my proteges. Dear, if you could find a can of something for this poor stray that has wandered into the house? And then get started on something for our weary questers. They are not vegan. Steak and eggs?”
“Sounds great,” Barb said. “And thank you. Showers?”
“Upstairs,” Sharice said, standing up and waving to the door. “I’ll wait for you to eat before plying you with questions.”
“This is not good news,” Sharice said, sipping her tea. “The Gar could not have produced so many Hunters if it was not well fed. And it must have been in existence for some time.”
“We’d gotten that far,” Barb said. “The FBI is trying to figure out where all the food is going.”
“What you may not have considered is that the Gar is reported as continuously growing,” Sharice pointed out. “If it has been in existence on this plane for that long, if it has been so well fed as to produce hundreds, at least, of Hunters…it must be very large. The facility to hide such a thing would be, in turn, large.”
“It could be in a cave,” Janea said, doubtfully. “But most of the ones around here are pretty small.”
“That’s a piece of data,” Barb said. “One the FBI needs. Damn, I was looking forward to sleep…”
“That is interesting information,” Graham said, yawning. “This area doesn’t have a lot of large structures. How large are we talking about?”
“A building that has at least twenty thousand square feet of open area,” Barb said, shrugging. “It could be a very large barn. An old factory. A warehouse.”
“Figure it’s going to be a barn,” Janea said. “Running a bunch of cattle or pigs into a factory is going to raise questions. If you run a bunch of cattle into a barn, nobody’s really going to notice that they’re not coming out.”
“The problem being, none of the farms around here have been buying a lot of cattle,” Graham said. “Fewer than normal. There’s been a long-term drought in the area and there’s a bit of a glut. The price is actually down.”
“Who is buying?” Barb asked.
“Mostly feed-lots and slaughterhouses,” Graham said. “And that’s often more or less one operation. Most of those are over in the Midwest. There are a couple in the area. But a slaughterhouse is a big operation. Lots of workers. It’s not a one-man thing.”
“Special Agent, I got into this whole field when I stumbled upon an entire town that had been converted to the worship of Almadu,” Barbara said.
“And we’ve been ignoring the slaughterhouses,” Graham said, slapping his forehead. “We figured this couldn’t be a whole bunch of people involved.”