Buku Saint Justice: A Christopher Wren Thriller by Mike Grist

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Saint Justice: A Christopher Wren Thriller by Mike Grist

Author:Mike Grist [Grist, Mike]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Mike Grist

Published: 2019-06-16T16:00:00+00:00

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Saint Justice: A Christopher Wren Thriller by Mike Grist

33. CAMP

Wren advanced, wrapped in the low sounds of the forest. The thought crossed his mind that a Saint sniper might try to pick him off from a distance, but the chances of a bullet finding a clear path through the forest was minuscule.

They would have to be near to even see him, and if they were near Wren would hear them. He would smell them, and he was hearing and smelling nothing.

 

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Saint Justice: A Christopher Wren Thriller by Mike Grist

Author:Mike Grist [Grist, Mike] , Date: June 19, 2019

,Views: 78

Author:Mike Grist [Grist, Mike]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Mike Grist

Published: 2019-06-16T16:00:00+00:00
33. CAMP

Wren advanced, wrapped in the low sounds of the forest. The thought crossed his mind that a Saint sniper might try to pick him off from a distance, but the chances of a bullet finding a clear path through the forest was minuscule.

They would have to be near to even see him, and if they were near Wren would hear them. He would smell them, and he was hearing and smelling nothing.

Soon the trees gave way to a low bank of ferns interspersed with saplings, and he hunkered down to study the back of the main hall. A log cabin structure, it was more dilapidated than he’d anticipated. Burn marks of deep, silvery soot ran up its sides. The roof was missing in places. Beneath the two large windows lay heaps of wreckage, as if the building had vomited its contents onto the soil. A long ventilation duct poked up in the midst of broken chairs and charred wooden desktops like a lost periscope.

Wren crept low through the ferns. Even now, after years of rain and sun, he could smell the burn still. He touched the log wall, where the fire had bitten in then gone out. Perhaps it had rained. Someone hadn’t done their job.

From the back corner he peered across the open center of the camp, exactly as in the satellite image. To the right lay the dirt track leading in, with beyond that the tennis courts and a few small outbuildings. Straight ahead was the fire circle, still picked out with benches in a rough circle, then more trees and a path leading to the cabins. To his left lay another building, probably a canteen or admin block, then another down by the lake.

There was no movement, no sound, no scent other than the natural flow of the forest. Wren waited until it felt right, then stood up. If a bullet was going to come it would come now, but none did. They might be near, might even be closing in now, but there was nothing he could do about that.

He stalked swiftly down the front of the building and into darkness through the open door. The interior was coated with a dusty mantle of moonlight. It was not what he’d expected. A typical summer camp hall would be a large open space, used for communal eating, for the end of camp dance, for indoor games when it rained.

This was a narrow lobby with a door to either side. The walls were scorched through in places, revealing dark, large rooms to either side.

Wren stepped in further. The floor creaked and shifted; thinned by the fire. He shifted his weight closer to the wall, to the building’s foundation beams, and advanced. He was sweating now in the humid, airless interior. Above the door to the left there was a sign painted onto the wall. Wren picked out the fire-scarred word ‘Church’.

Through the door lay a black, hollow space. The walls were fringed with ashy wooden benches. Cinders lay underfoot as he advanced.

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Buku Saint Justice: A Christopher Wren Thriller by Mike Grist

Rp149,000.00

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