Thinning the Herd by Adrian Phoenix

corpse with its one bare foot. “C’mon. We’ve got to find Louis.” The laughter trailed off.
    Hal heard Desdemona’s light tread as she raced on ahead. He hurried after her, lengthening his stride. But he tripped, then stumbled. As he caught himself, he looked down.
    â€œAnother one,” he said, shifting the light away and back down the tunnel. A rank smell cut through the heady ganja odor. He nearly gagged. “Hippie again.”
    Desdemona halted, then turned around. Bright light dazzled Hal’s eyes as she aimed her flashlight his way, then down.
    â€œDon’t look,” he said. “It’s very ripe.”
    â€œI can handle . . .” Desdemona’s voice trailed away. “Gross,” she whispered, meaning it this time.
    Hal felt Galahad and Nick behind him, felt their tension like connected live wires, almost heard it buzzing around them. No one laughed. Hal stepped past the remains and continued on down the tunnel. This time Desdemona let him take the lead.
    The smell of ganja faded, buried beneath an ever-increasing fetid stink, the ripe-sweet smell of death, of decay and putrefaction. Hal tried to breathe only through his mouth. When he glanced back, Desdemona held a hand over her mouth and nose. Nick and Galahad looked unperturbed. All part of the natural cycle for them, Hal supposed. He shrugged. Animals really seemed to dig stinky things.
    With each new body they discovered—some clearly hippies, others clearly not—they went through a quick checklist.
    â€œBody,” Nick announced.
    Slowing to a stop, Hal glanced at Desdemona. She held herself very still, listening, her features tense. Hal hated to ask the next question. “Louis?”
    â€œNah.”
    â€œTarot card?”
    â€œNah squared.”
    Hal held Desdemona’s gaze for a moment, then continued to lead the group onward. So far they hadn’t found a single tarot card, nibbled on or otherwise, and Hal was beginning to think the cards had been the killer’s enigmatic signature after all, and not clues.
    The body count continued. After a while, they quit mentioning it when they tripped, stumbled, or walked over another body. Unless it belonged to Louis, there was no point. They were getting damned hard to look at this far in, and the smell was thick and greasy. Easy to imagine it clinging to skin, coating the insides of nostrils. Hal swallowed hard. His headache had returned, although not as bad as before. The aspirin had helped a little.
    His flashlight caught a flicker of color and his pulse picked up speed as he realized it was a tarot card. Going over to it, Hal bent and picked it up out of the dirt. Whole. No bloodstains. One of the Major Arcana. Temperance, in fact.
    Desdemona rushed to his side. When he flipped the card over to reveal the back design—an angel kneeling beneath the spreading branches of an oak tree—she gasped, then gagged. Her hand flew back to her face, resumed covering her mouth and nose. Her complexion took on a greenish tinge. She breathed in little shallow gulps. “That’s from Louis’s deck,” she said, her palm muffling her voice.
    â€œYou sure?”
    She nodded.
    Hal glanced at Galahad and Nick. “Looks like we’re on the right trail, boys.”
    â€œUnfortunately, that does seem to be the case,” said an unfamiliar voice from the darkness ahead of them, followed by the heart-stopping sound of a round being chambered.

10
    UNNATURALLY LONG CLAWS
    A shot ka-rack ed through the air. Dirt from the tunnel wall peppered Hal’s face.
    â€œGet down!” he yelled. Dropping his flashlight, Hal grabbed Desdemona, yanking her down to the ground with him. He heard soft thuds behind him as Nick and Galahad took his advice.
    Another shot thundered through the tunnel. Dirt sprayed into Hal’s face again—but from the floor this time. Close. Too close. Releasing Desdemona, Hal rushed forward,