Ice Hunt (50 page)

“Let’s go!” Kowalski yelled, taking the lead.

The wounded beast collapsed to the ice, its lungs burned away. Flames still danced from its lips and the two nostrils high on its head. It didn’t move.

Kowalski gave it a wide berth just in case. Tom waved for the others to follow. Jenny ran alongside Craig and Dr. Reynolds. Free now, Bane raced ahead, joining Kowalski at the front. Behind them, the biology group kept pace with Tom.

The party fled through fire and ice, running full tilt.

Kowalski had their last Molotovs. He kept a fiery path blazing ahead of them. The grendels scattered out of their way.

Then a scream…

Jenny turned and saw Antony down, one leg plunged through a hole in the ice. Tom and Zane helped draw the panicked boy out.

Kowalski had stopped, waiting for them a few yards down. “Sucks, doesn’t it!” They would all have to be careful of such sinkholes. A leg could be easily broken…or a neck.

Zane helped his friend to his feet.

“Shit, that’s cold,” Antony said.

Ice cracked behind him. Up from the hole, a grendel burst forth, battering from below. It lunged and snatched the boy’s leg, biting deep. Zane and Tom were thrown backward as the ice shattered outward. The half-ton beast dropped back into the hole, dragging Antony with it.

He didn’t even have time to scream before he was gone.

Amid cries and shouts, everyone raced forward haltingly. With the snow covering the ice, it was impossible to discern the thinner patches.

“They’re pacing us,” Ogden said, panting. “Tracking us under the ice by our footsteps.”

“We can’t stop,” Kowalski said.

No one wanted to. They continued onward, but more slowly. Kowalski bravely took the point. Everyone kept to his footsteps, not wanting to take any unnecessary chances.

Jenny had seen polar bears hunting seals in such a manner, pouncing up from below to nab their unsuspecting prey. The area must be riddled with iced-over breathing holes, permanent cracks in the ice protected by the pressure ridges around here.

They would have to be careful.

Jenny spotted a mound of snow rise as something heavy pushed up from below. She heard the crinkle of breaking ice from beneath it. The grendels were still following them.

“Around the next ridge!” Tom called from the back. “The station’s parking lot is just ahead!”

They cautiously increased their pace.

Jenny rounded the bend and saw he was right. The jumble of peaks opened into flat ice. They were almost out of the treacherous pressure ridges.

As they made for the opening, gunfire cracked through the whine of winds. Kowalski reached the edge and raised his arm, halting them all while he scanned ahead. More gunfire sounded close by, a real firefight.

Tom pulled up next to them. “Someone’s fighting the Russians.”

“Could it be the Delta team?” Amanda asked Craig.

He shook his head.

Kowalski hissed to them. They all moved forward, gathering together. He pointed an arm. Just ten yards from their hiding place rested a Sno-Cat, with snowmobiles and other vehicles lined up just past it.

Beyond the parking lot, Jenny spotted two figures out on the ice, firing toward the peaks to the left. Gunfire answered them, spattering into the short ridge that sheltered the pair.

It was impossible to tell who was who. Though the snowfall from overhead had died away, the winds continued to blow surface snow in scurfs and eddies, obliterating detail.

Bane suddenly lunged forward, breaking away from the group. He raced between the parked vehicles, heading out toward the open plain.

Jenny made to leap after him, but Kowalski grabbed her elbow and hissed. He pointed an arm.

Beyond the firefight, the glowing entrance to the base shone in the stormy gloom. Figures appeared, limned against the light, pouring out from inside. A major battle was about to begin.

She turned her attention, but Bane was gone, lost among the parked snow craft.

The gunfire grew more intense.

“Now what do we do?” Tom asked.

5:14 P.M.

From his position behind the ice ridge, Matt watched as Washburn was tackled, swamped under three men. She kicked and fought, but it was no use. More soldiers moved out, flanking the entrance. Additional men took up sniping positions within the shelter of the entrance hall.

It wouldn’t be long until Matt and Bratt were outflanked and shot. Matt covered the men near the entrance, trying to keep them from edging into a position from which they could shoot directly at his group. Bratt did the same with the group hiding among the tents.

But they were running low on ammunition.

“I’ll try to draw their fire,” Bratt said. “Make for the vehicles. Try to grab one and head out.”

“What about you?”

Bratt shied from the question. “I’ll do what I can to hold them off you for as long as possible.”

Matt hesitated.

Bratt turned to him, his eyes fierce. “This isn’t your war!”

And it isn’t yours either,
Matt wanted to add, but now was not the time for debate. He simply nodded, acquiescing.

Bratt turned his attention, pulling out a grenade from a pocket. He pointed and signaled his plan. “Ready.”

Matt took a deep breath and pushed himself from his belly into a crouch, keeping low. “Go!”

Bratt lobbed the grenade. He didn’t have the arm to reach the group in the tents, not against the winds blowing out from the ice mountains. But he did a damn good job anyway. The explosion of ice obliterated the view.

That was Matt’s cue. He took off at a full sprint. Behind him, Bratt twisted to fire at the men positioned near the station entrance.

The plan might have worked, except that the Russians by the tents had managed to load their rocket launcher. Matt heard the fizzling blast, followed by the telltale whistle.

He dove and twisted, skidding a few yards on his shoulder. The sharp ice shredded his parka. He watched Bratt turn, ready to leap away, but the distances were too short, the rocket too fast.

Matt covered his face, both to protect himself and not to watch.

The rocket struck with a resounding blast. The ice shuddered under Matt. He lowered his arm and pushed up. Their temporary shelter was now a smoking hole of steam.

There was no sign of Bratt.

Then a boot landed beside him, thudding in the snow, sizzling against the ice.

Horrified, Matt rolled away. He shoved to his feet. Not allowing the man’s sacrifice to be in vain, he ran for the vehicles.

5:16 P.M.

Jenny stared at the lone figure running across the ice. He wore a white parka…one of the Russians. Then a gust of snow and steam blanketed over him.

“We have to move out now,” Craig said beside her, drawing her attention. “Use the distraction to grab what vehicles we can.”

“Who can drive a Cat?” Kowalski asked, pointing to the sturdy vehicle. It was only ten yards away.
So close…

Ogden raised his hand. “I can.”

Kowalski nodded. “Tom and I’ll grab a couple snowmobiles to act as flankers and decoys. The Cat should hold the rest of you. I’ve got two Molotovs left.” He tossed one to Tom. “We’ll do what we can to keep the Russians off your asses.”

“Let’s do it,” Craig said.

The group bolted toward the nearby Cat. Tom and Kowalski divided and ran for two Ski-Doos.

Henry reached the Sno-Cat first and yanked the door open. Zane and Magdalene clambered into the front seat while Henry tried the engine. It sputtered, then caught. The noise seemed loud, sure to draw the attention of the Russians now that the firefight had stopped. Hopefully the soldiers were still deafened by the rocket explosion. And if not, there was always the perpetually howling wind to cover the sound.

Jenny searched for any sign that they were heard. But the cloud from the rocket attack continued to mask the area. The winds blew the steamy smoke toward the station’s entrance, keeping the view blanketed. But it would not last long.

She heard one Ski-Doo engine wind up, then another. Tom and Kowalski had found their mounts.

“Inside!” Craig urged, pulling open the rear door for Amanda and Jenny.

As Amanda grabbed the edge of the doorframe, sharp barking cut through the engine noise.

Jenny stepped around the rear of the Cat.
Bane…

She searched, then spotted movement. A figure lumbered from the snow fifty yards away. The lone Russian in the white parka. She hissed to Craig.

He came over. Amanda paused in the open door.

Jenny pointed to the armed figure, who seemed unaware of them. He had been close to the explosion. Probably dazed and deaf.

“We’ll have to take him out,” Craig said.

Then Jenny spotted another figure, dark and low to the ground. It was Bane. The wolf mix leaped at the man, bringing him down.

Craig saw it, too. “It looks like we won’t have to deal with the man after all. That is some mutt. A real attack dog.”

Jenny watched with a frown. Bane was not that sort of dog.

She watched the man wrestle the dog, then sit up on his knees and hug him, pulling the dog tight. She fell forward two steps. “It’s Matt!”

5:18 P.M.

A sob escaped Matt as he clutched Bane.
How had the dog gotten here? All the way from Omega?
It seemed a miracle.

He heard a small cry in the wind, but he couldn’t tell from where. He glanced up. Then he heard it again. Someone was calling his name.

Bane dashed a few steps, then turned back to Matt, clearly urging him to follow.

He did, one leg numbly stumbling after the next. He trudged after the dog, not believing his luck.

And he never should have.

Again a characteristic whistling wail pierced the winds.

Another rocket.

The Russians must know his goal. They were going to take out the parking lot, cutting off any means of escape.

Matt stumbled after Bane, meaning to catch the damn dog, drag him down. But the wolf kept running ahead. He raced among the first of the vehicles.

“Bane! No!”

Ever obedient, Bane stopped and spun back to look at him.

Then the rocket hit, blasting Matt back from the force of the concussion. He landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him. He felt the wash of heat from the explosion roll over him.

He cried in his heart and aloud. “No!”

He sat up. The parking lot ahead was gone, a blasted ruin of ice and torn vehicles. At the center gaped a hole clear to the ocean below.

Matt covered his face with his hands.

5:19 P.M.

Jenny must have blacked out for a fraction of a second. One moment, she was standing by the Sno-Cat, calling out to Matt—the next she was on her back. She sat up, the world spinning slightly.

Her ears ringing, she lay some twenty feet from the Sno-Cat. She remembered the jolt as ice bucked under her, throwing her high. Across the way, the Cat was crashed on its side, toppled over by the force of the explosion.

Matt…

She flashed back to seeing him just before the attack. The fear drove away her momentary daze.

Jenny struggled to stand. Craig was doing the same ten feet to her right. Surprisingly, Amanda was already up. She stood by the Sno-Cat, seemingly unfazed.

Beyond them, the ice field was obliterated, swirling in steam. A large hole had been blasted through to the ocean below. Wreckage of vehicles lay all around, thrown and scattered like so many toys. There was no sign of Matt or Bane, but steam still misted thickly.

Closer, Jenny saw Tom sprawled in the snow, pinned under his snowmobile. The young ensign was not moving. A trail of crimson flowed from under him.

Oh God…

She spotted Kowalski’s vehicle halfway up the neighboring pressure ridge, on its side, motor still chugging. But there was no sign of the seaman.

“We need to help them,” Amanda said.

Jenny stumbled over to her.

Amanda turned. Her words were slurred more than usual. “The blast…” She shook her head. “It almost fell on top of me.”

Jenny placed a hand on her shoulder. It must be terrifying to see that play out without a single sound.

Craig joined them.

Through the Cat’s windshield, figures moved. Ogden bore a gash on his forehead. He and Magdalene were trying to calm Zane. He was dazed, flailing, half conscious.

“We have to get them out,” Jenny said.

“The door’s jammed,” Amanda said. “I tried…I couldn’t…maybe all of us together.”

Craig stepped away from the toppled Sno-Cat. “We’re not going to have the time.” He stared out beyond the blasted pit in the ice.

As the winds blew the steaming mist from the blast zone, a line of figures in white parkas were setting out across the ice, weapons ready.

Craig turned to them. “The cleanup squad. We have to get away from here before they spot us.”

Jenny stared at the spread of ruined vehicles. “Where?” She pointed to the pressure ridges. “Back into grendel territory.”

Craig shook his head, trying to map out some plan. “The Delta team could be here in twenty minutes…if we could hole up till then.”

Amanda had been following their conversation. “I may know a better way. But we’ll have to hurry. Follow me.” She turned and started away, heading out from the parking lot.

Jenny stared from the figures in the Sno-Cat to Tom’s limp form. She hated abandoning them, but she had no choice. Especially unarmed. Her fingers rested on her empty holster. Frustrated, guilty, she turned away.

As Jenny started after Craig and Amanda, the sound of engines whined into existence behind them. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted a pair of headlamps glowing beyond the fog and mists. They sped off to the side in tandem, circling around the zone of the rocket attack.

Hover-cycles
.

She ran faster.

Thirty yards ahead, Amanda vanished around a shelf of ridgeline. Craig followed. As she reached the ridge, Jenny skidded to a stop. She cast one look back at those she was abandoning. Movement drew her eye. Tom, still buried under his bike, weakly lifted an arm.