CHAPTER NINETEEN
Alexa gagged. The interior of the prefab was filled with carcasses.
Hanging on meat hooks attached to the ceiling were at least a dozen coyotes in various stages of decomposition. The nearest one was crawling with maggots.
Alexa took a step back, covering her nose and mouth.
Stuart took a step forward and peered inside.
“No people, just wolves,” he said.
“Coyotes,” Alexa corrected, retreating a little further. “How can you stand the smell?”
“Ever come across a mass grave? I mean a mass human grave?”
“No.”
“Once you’ve smelled that, you can take anything short of that.”
Alexa grimaced. The smell of a decomposing human being was the worst smell imaginable, hitting hard against a person’s most basic instincts. She had smelled that more times than she cared to count.
