When he was done, Smith shut the refrigerator door and took one last look around the room to make certain he hadn't forgotten anything. Satisfied, he closed the storage room door, locking it up tight once more. In the dark closet, the old fridge chugged softly.
Chapter 20
The deer carcass lay in the wet grass at the soft shoulder of the road.
There had been a feeding frenzy. Virtually all but head and legs were gone. As Remo and Chiun sped by in their rented car, Remo saw many footprints amid the scattered brown fur around the creature. Although the prints looked human, they were softer, with the weight more toward toe than heel.
"That's the third one we've passed in two miles," he commented grimly.
The Master of Sinanju had remained silent for the past few miles, concern for his pupil weighing heavy on his shoulders. But when his eyes strayed from the dead deer to the road ahead, a spark of life lit his dour face.
"Your persistent stubbornness is too stressful on my delicate senses," the old Asian announced from the passenger's seat. "Stop for a moment that I might collect my frazzled nerves." He tapped an urgent fingernail on the dashboard, pointing to a tiny strip mall that was speeding toward them on the right. "There is a good spot."
Remo followed his teacher's extended finger. "That's a real estate office, Little Father."
"Is it?" Chiun asked innocently. He pretended to see the sign for the first time. "So it is."
For a time two years ago the old Korean had been on Remo's case to buy a house in Maine. The rocky coast and bitter winter reminded him of his native Sinanju. Remo thought he'd won that battle when they'd moved into their new town house in Connecticut.
"We're not stopping," Remo said firmly.
"A good son who did not cause his father in spirit to worry for his well-being all the time would stop."
"We're not buying a house in Maine. Case closed."
Chiun watched the building zoom by. He sank back into his seat, folding his arms inside his sleeves. "You are an evil man, Remo Williams. We are already in the emperor's potato province. What harm would come of looking?"
"Walking out with a deed for one thing," Remo said. "Look, Chiun, I'm happy where we're living now. Living in Connecticut is close to Smith, but not too close. We've got a couple of airports nearby. It's convenient. Maine is too far off the beaten path."
"I am not surprised that you would be content with our current accommodations." Chiun sniffed. "I have never known a pig to complain about the quality of the mud he is wallowing in. I, on the other hand, am not happy. For one thing, it is only a matter of time before squatters take up residence in the home adjacent to our own. At my age I do not need to worry about Gypsy horse thieves keeping me awake until all hours of the night with their smelly cooking and rowdy tambourine banging."
The other side of their duplex had remained vacant the entire time they'd lived in Connecticut. The Master of Sinanju had done yeoman's work chasing away any potential neighbors. But since their work for Smith sometimes kept them away for extended periods of time, the old Korean had been growing more concerned that the empty town house next door would be rented while they were away.
"I'm not worried that we'll get neighbors," Remo said absently. He had caught sight of something up ahead.
"Of course not. You would let any undesirables move in. It is up to me to maintain the quality of our neighborhood."
Remo was about to say something on the nature of racism, freedom in America to live wherever you wanted and Chiun's definition of undesirables, which included-on a good day-everyone in the world who wasn't Korean and-on a bad day-them, too. But he was too distracted to speak.
At their approach, the thing that had caught his eye had turned into several things. As they rounded a bend in the road, the several became several hundred.
In the passenger's seat, the Master of Sinanju's spine became more rigid as he sat up stiffly in his seat.
The winding road passed by a dairy farm. On both right and left wide grazing fields stretched to dark woods.
Intermingled with the smell of manure was the stench of death.
"Holy cow;" Remo said softly.
Throughout the predawn fields were scattered the carcasses of hundreds of dead dairy cows. The animals lay in mottled grass, sightless eyes staring up at the brightening sky. Flanks were chewed; bellies were gaping black wounds.
Fences had been broken near the road. Some of the cows had been tossed out by a tumbledown stone wall.
A battered truck was parked at the side of the road. Three farmhands were struggling to load a dead cow into the rusted back. Two more of the animals were already sprawled on a blanket of damp hay. With a final heave, they shoved the dead animal into the rear of the truck.
The men watched in suspicion as Remo and Chiun drove by.
A lone dead animal was dumped a few dozen yards down the road, its milky white eyes staring blankly at oncoming traffic. A sign near the gutted cow pointed the way to the Lubec Springs bottling plant.
"That's not just White that did all that," Remo commented as they passed the last cow. The farmland fell away as woods closed in darkly around them.
"Animals seek their own kind," Chiun said. "In this they are like men. She has created more like her elsewhere. Did you not think that she would here, as well?"
"I guess," Remo said. "I just didn't think there'd be so many. That was a hell of a lot of dead cows back there."
As they drove, he found himself more and more studying the deep forest that lined the road.
He found the turnoff for Lubec Springs. They parked their car near a house that seemed abandoned and headed up the road to the bottling plant.
"Perhaps we should not have parked so close," the Master of Sinanju suggested as they walked the forest-lined road. "The animal may attempt to flee if it feels threatened."
Their steady, gliding feet made not a sound on pebble or sand as they slipped like shadows through the dim light.
"She won't run at the sound of every car," Remo said.
"Unlike you, she retains a hint of human intelligence. She surely knows the difference between a car engine stopping and one that has driven by."
"Maybe," Remo said. "But even if she's skittish, it looks like we don't have to worry about the rest of them taking off."
His senses were trained on the woods around them. Remo had been aware of them ever since he parked the car. A rustle of fallen leaves, the soft crack of a twig. Stealthy sounds that-except for the two men walking along that lonely Maine road-would have gone unnoticed by human ears. The sounds of animals circling prey, closing ever tighter. Their numbers continued to swell the closer Remo and Chiun came to the bottling plant.
Remo spent a few moments picking out individual heartbeats. He lost count at three dozen, finally giving up.
"Okay, so there's even more than we thought," he said as they walked along. He pitched his voice so low only the Master of Sinanju would hear.
"Do not include me in your assumptions," Chiun replied, making a show of ignoring the woods around them. "And I will remind you once more to have a care."
"Relax," Remo said testily. "So there's more than we bargained for. Four, four dozen. Big schmiel. In case you forgot, I have met these things before, you know."
Chiun nodded gravely. "And it is apparent that my memory is better than yours. I recall the first time your belly was split open. In your second encounter, your chest was torn apart."
"Blah-biddy-blah-blah-blah," Remo said. "I lost some ground, but I rallied in the end."
"Only after your Sinanju training all but disappeared."
"That was only the first time."