Survivalist - 20 - Firestorm (14 page)

“Frau-I mean Sarah-ahh, I know you are not a fool, that you are a good person who only wants the best for Michael and myself, and for Annie and Paul and Natalia, and for yourself and your husband,” Maria said, at last smiling.

Sarah looked at her, an earnestness in her voice that Natalia could not deny. “If we can help each other, maybe gam some fresh insights. Thafs all I wanted.”

“I don’t think anything will really be resolved until there is a resolution to the war,” Natalia interjected. “If you think about each of us, our situation, ewrything is hinged on the war and always has been. Before the Night of die War, Sarah, you and John were putting your lives back together. He’s told me.” Sarah only nodded, looking down, as if studying the toe of her right slipper. “And if it weren’t for the war, we wouldnt be co-existing now. We would have died-Sarah, Annie, myself-centuries before you were born, Maria. Sara and Annie and I would not be contemporaries. I would be living in Russia or still working in Latin America-“

1 might never have met Paul,” Annie interrupted, then laughed, her eyes finally smiling. “I m horrible, but if this was the only way-out I would have been a little girl and he would have been an old man by the time Fd grown up.”

“Michael would have been dead half a millenia ago,” Maria said, almost bemused-sounding. “And if there had been a war later, and I had still been born and become an archeologist as I am, I might-” Her shoulders shook.

“I wonder if John would have made me pregnant,” Sarah said suddenly. “I mean, for a while, I used to think that maybe he just got me pregnant to apologize for letting you-” She looked at Annie, “-and jour brother grow up. But I dont think so, now. But, the baby-I would have never-“

Natalia stood up, placed her hands in the pockets of her robe, looked at Annie, Maria and Sarah in turn as she spoke. “I think the thing is diat the war—for good and for bad—is the inescapable catalyst in all our lives, all our relationships.” She reached down and took one of the non-carcinogenic German cigarettes from the table, tit it in the flame of her Hghter, exhaled smoke as she continued to talk. The war dominates life for us and will, as long as it goes on. We can say and do all we want, and there will be some changes; but, in the final analysis, none of the changes will make any real difference. Wfe were all thrown together by 4ns and until ifs over, what can we do? I don’t know.” None of the other women spoke. Tm going to bed. Maybe dungs will look different tomorrow, hmm?”

Natalia started for the bedroom.

But then the voice came over the radio.

The wind blew cold and still heavier overcast of snow laden gray-black clouds was moving in rapidly from the north.

The green wash was long gone and, replacing it, was a very intense pain and cold, his body shivering and, each time a spasm came, the pain across his back that much more acute.

“I believe, Herr Lieutenant, that the bullet somehow damaged bone in your right shoulder blade. This is why, Herr Lieutenant, the pain is so intense.”

Horst Hammerschmidt grimaced as another spasm came upon him, focusing his eyes and all his concentration on Sergeant Schlabrendorff s weathered face. “Casmir-I am giving you an order. Word must be gotten to the High Command concerning this new weapon we have witnessed. You will ride Rommel. Any radio transmissions might be intercepted. You must leave me and go at once.”

“But, Herr Lieutenant!”

Snow fell into his eyelashes and he blinked it away, the spasm lasting longer than one had ever lasted before. But he could not show that to Schlabrendorff, for as much as his sergeant was the best of soldiers, bis sergeant was also his friend, like a second father to him in many ways. If Casmir Schlabrendorff suspected that the pain was worsening, he might not leave. “It is also the best thing for me, Casmir. If you ride Rommel like the wind, you can be back for me with help in just a few days.”

“Herr Lieutenant-there are-“

“There are too many excuses, Sergeant. You have your orders. Leave me with what supplies you can-” Most of their supplies, including the climate controlled tents which were used to survive the bitter cold of the night in these high altitudes, were lost, aboard pack animals at the rear of the column. “And as much ammunition as you can spare as well.”

Casmir Schlabrendorffs always sad looking eyes seemed sadder now. He only nodded …

Rommel moved uneasily. If there were another man Hammerschmidfs horse was used to, it was Schlabrendorff, but Rommel was rarely ridden by anyone except Hammerschmidt, hadn’t been for months.

Schlabrendorff looked uneasy in the saddle. Hammerschmidt called up to him from the improvised shelter beneath which he lay in the rocks high above any trail. “Remember, Casmir. Rommel will not fail you. Like you, he is a good German soldier.” Horst Hammerschmidt forced a smile.

“I will return for you, Herr Lieutenant. I swear it.” And Casmir Schlabrendorff pulled himself more erect in the saddle and saluted.

Pain washed over Hammerschmidt, nausea on its crest, faintness below the surface as he pushed himself up on his left elbow and raised hisrighthand, returning the salute. “I place my life, but, moreimpor-tandy, the life of New Germany in your hands. I feel in perfect safety, Sergeant.”

Hammerschmidt snapped down the salute as smartly as he could, Schlabrendorff doing the same.

“Like the wind, Herr Lieutenant. like the wind.” And Schlabrendorff, a fine horseman, drew in Rommel’s reins more tighdy for an instant as he wheeled the animal, then, Rommel rearing slightly, Schlabrendorff moved his knees, easing pressure on the reins. Rommel bounded away across the plateau. The flat rocky expanse right angled and stopped less than a mile distant, dropping down into a rough excuse for a trail leading downward. As Schlabrendorff rode off, Horst Hammerschmidt began to succumb to the pain, but he heard over the drumming of Rommel’s hoofbeats, “Like the wind!”

John Thomas Rourke, his heavier winter gear left in an office provided for his use, was stripped down to black sweater, black BDU pants and the double Alessi shoulder holster for his twin stainless Detonics pistols. The only items of arctic clothing he still wore were the boots, and bis feet felt heavy and warm inside them as he stood, arms crossed over his chest, at the foot of the hospital bed.

A German doctor, attending the man in the bed, was rousing the man gently. John Rourke, Michael and Paul all recognized the figure: Vassily Prokopiev, when last seen by any of them designated field commander for the KGB Elite Corps, a decent man with honor.

John Rourke wondered if honor was what had brought Prokopiev here, injured, recovering from frostbite, speaking out of his pain of some urgent message, brought John Rourke and his son and his friend as well.

Prokopiev’s eyelids fluttered and his head moved, as if awakening from ordinary sleep. “Herr Doctor, I have administered a mild stimulant. He should be fully awake and able to converse in a matter of moments. He will still be quite weak and, drifting in and out as he has been, there is the significant likelihood that he may, to some degree or another, be rather incoherent.”

Tm aware of the possibilities, Doctor,” John Rourke nodded to his fellow physician.

Michael sat down on the small chair nearest to the bed, Michael and Prokopiev friends of a sort, comrades in an experience in the Second Chinese City which John Rourke knew neither Michael nor the Soviet officer would be likely to ever forget. Because of that friendship, it would be best that Michael’s face should be the first face Vassily Prokopiev would see.

“Little one-“

The German physician, still beside the bed on the side opposite from Michael, looked up and said, “He was discovered with a Wild Tribes child, the age nearly four years as best we can tell, but the child quite small, malnourished. It appears that the young man did his very best to keep the child alive, even at risk of his own life. He alternates between asking about the child and asking for you. Sometimes, he is quite lucid, sometimes not. The fever he had was very stubborn to combat, but he is progressing nicely now.”

“And the child?” Paul asked.

“The child is well. A hardy little thing, certainly. There is, as yet, no idea what to do with her. It is assumed her parents are dead. Her skin is rough, a little leathery, but typical for the Wild Tribes people. She seems genetically normal, as are many of them from the Wild Tribes, usually the weaker ones.”

“Little one-“

John Rourke watched Vassily Prokopiev’s face intently. A Soviet officer of the Elite Corps, a message, protecting a child against God only knew what horrors before the Germans found him. What was he doing here?

Little one-“

Still in their nightclothes, Natalia and Annie and Maria huddled around the primary radio. As Natalia looked up, she could see Sarah returning from the storage area where the auxiliary radio was kept.

“He’s speaking in German. It’s clearer now. But the signal is so terribly weak. Before, I wasn’t even sure of the language,” Natalia declared. Then she looked at Maria Leuden. “You agree?”

“Yes. German, definitely. Perhaps a downed pilot?”

“That makes sense,” Annie nodded.

“What do we do about it? I tried getting out on the second radio and there wasn’t any luck. I can’t tell if it’s Soviet jamming or weather conditions or what; and I checked the antenna lead all the way until it disappeared into the access shaft,” Sarah Rourke added.

Natalia looked at the radio again, her head starting to ache from straining to hear through the headset. “If the man on die other end of this transmission is a downed pilot, he’s in trouble-or at least logic would make us assume that. With the cold outside, that could mean he’s in danger of dying. On one hand, we have no choice but to go out and attempt to find him. And that shouldn’t be that hard. I can adjust a walkie-talkie to the proper frequency and as the signal strength increases, well eventually find him. If he’s getting through and we’re unable to get out, he must be very close, despite the weak signal. He could be low on power. On the other hand, this could be some sort of ruse to get us out of the Retreat. It could be Rausch out there, waiting for us.”

“We cannot leave the man-” Maria insisted.

“I know that,” Natalia nodded. “This is your house, Sarah? What do you suggest?”

Sarah licked her lips. “Two go out and two stay. Annie and Maria can-“

“No, damnit!” Annie snapped. “Look-you are not wandering around climbing rocks in sub-zero temperatures with the baby. Natalia and I should go.”

“She’s right,” Natalia nodded, standing up, smoothing her hair, the headphones playing havoc with it. “She is.”

Sarah touched at her abdomen. “You’ re right. But I don’t have to like it. Youll need a code phrase in case there’s something wrong.”

“Yes,” Natalia almost whispered. She thought of the black jumpsuit hanging in the closet. If it belonged to some other Natalia, she hoped it fit anyway.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say to the three of us,” John Rourke told Vassily Prokopiev. Prokopiev’s eyes looked slightly glassy, but he sounded normal enough. Rourke had looked at his chart and supposed the glassiness was a result of medication. Five centuries ago, Vassily Prokopiev would have been dead, quite likely, or in the best case scenario have lost several limbs at a minimum. But treatment of frostbite and exposure-related injuries had advanced considerably. The prognosis on the chart was a good one for restoration to normal health.

Prokopiev nodded. His speech was a little slurred, but seemed otherwise lucid as he spoke. “I was called before the Comrade Marshal.”

“Antonovitch?” John Rourke and Paul Rubenstein queried almost in unison.

“He spoke to me of his desire to end war, at first end war with war, but how then he had realized that his desire could not be fulfilled as he had originally hoped, that instead there would be the destruction of mankind.”

“What-” Michael began.

John Rourke told his son, “Let him finish, Michael.”

Prokopiev nodded again. “Particle Beam technology. The Comrade Marshal told me that it is so advanced now that the Particle Beam weapons can be mounted in helicopter gunships, on tanks, made in whatever size or power range is needed, even as machine guns for the infantry.”

Rourke shivered as Prokopiev went on, in his mind seeing Reed as the Army Intelligence officer had climbed the masts for the Particle Beam Weapons at the Soviet Womb in Colorado, with his dying breath trying to raise the American flag in a symbol of defiance. “The Comrade Marshal told me that no power on earth would be able to stand against these Particle Beam devices except by use of nuclear weapons. In New Germany nuclear weapons are under development. There is still the Chinese nuclear arsenal somewhere out there and the Soviet community beneath the sea has such weapons as well. Once the new Particle Beam weapons are used in the field, nuclear weapons will be used against them and this will bring the end of mankind.

“The Comrade Marshal,” Prokopiev went on slowly, “gave to me a small cannister, so small that it is Utile larger than a spool of thread. There is film contained inside that cannister which has the plans for the Particle Beam devices. I am to give this film to you. He told me that he trusted that you will do the right thing with it. I am to tell Major Tiemerovna a message as well, that the Comrade Marshal says she was right about him after all, that he was not born to Karamatsov’s work. And I am to tell you, Doctor Rourke, that he believes that this changes nothing between you and him. He would kill you if he had the chance and-I quote him-‘I will expect the same courtesy from him.’ “

John Rourke leaned heavily against the hard plastic footboard of the bed. “You don’t have this capsule anymore, do you?”

“It is in the half-track truck. It was safer there. The child-You understand.”

“Yes. You must tell us, Vassily, where this truck can be located. We must find the capsule and I must get its contents to allied scientists in the hopes that we can somehow find a defense, even if it means crafting these weapons ourselves.”