Hard Line

by Clare, Pamela

  “What about you?” She could tell he was suffering, too, his face lined with pain.

  “I’ll be fine.” He set his empty cup down and drew her close with his good arm.

  For a time, they stood there in silence, sharing body heat.

  “We should get moving.” He kissed her forehead. “You can do this, Samantha. In five minutes, you’ll be in the life pod.”

  Samantha nodded, but she couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding.

  He didn’t bother covering his face this time, so she didn’t either, the two of them moving back the way they’d come, the chisel in Samantha’s pocket, her hands clutching the body warmer taped to her chest as she steeled herself to face the cold once more.

  Thor opened the door, frigid air flooding in, making Samantha gasp. “Don’t rush. Move efficiently.”

  She followed him back down the stairs to the main hallway of the LO Arch, the flickering lights adding to a growing feeling of dread. “That way.”

  They moved quickly, the cold stealing back into Samantha’s bones.

  Thor opened the door to the Beer Can, motioned for her to wait while he cleared it. “Okay. Let’s go. Time for a workout.”

  Was it ninety-nine steps or seventy-seven?

  Samantha couldn’t remember, her body starting to shiver again. “W-we could take the freight elevator. It’s f-faster.”

  The car stood empty and wide open, available for them.

  “Hardin might hear it and know exactly where we are. It’s safer to walk.”

  “W-why did I know you were going to s-say that?”

  Thor’s radio squawked.

  “Isaksen, Jones here.”

  “Jones, this is Isaksen.”

  “Be on the lookout. That bastard just raided your room. He took your rifle and some ammo. He’s acting like he’s in a hurry. I’m betting he knows you’re there.”

  Thor muttered something in Danish, shivering now, too. “B-blow those doors, get your gear, and find him. K-keep everyone else locked down, including the R-Russian team. I’m taking Samantha b-back to the machine shop. If he’s coming this way, he’ll c-cut us off at the top of the stairs. I’m t-turning off my radio so it doesn’t give us away.”

  “Copy that. See you soon.”

  Thor turned off the radio, slipped it into his pocket. “We n-need to hurry.”

  Then, from the top of the stairs above came the creak of cold, steel hinges.

  * * *

  Thor had just put his foot on the first stair when he heard the door to the station open four stories above them.

  Hardin.

  If he and Samantha tried to make it back to the machine shop, the bastard would see them. He might even get a clear shot. With only a split second to act, Thor grabbed Samantha’s wrist, pressed a finger against her lips for silence, then drew her with him beneath the stairs and into the open freight elevator.

  Footsteps on the stairs.

  Hardin seemed to be in a hurry.

  In one corner of the elevator, Thor saw a pile of quilted moving blankets. He grabbed them and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’ll c-cover you with these. Curl up in the corner. You’ll be warmer. Stay quiet and still, no m-matter what happens.”

  She lay on her side, drew her knees up to her chest, her gaze on his until he covered her with the first blanket. She mouthed the words, “Be careful!”

  Thor did his best to disguise the shape of a human being beneath the blankets, placing the last on top, still folded. After that, he pulled off the Mylar blanket that was taped around his body and shoved it beneath the blankets with Samantha, knowing it would give him away and hamper his movements. Yes, it would make his hypothermia worse, but he was beginning to think it was over for him anyway. His heart pounded as if he’d been running, and he felt out of breath—both signs of serious blood loss.

  He stepped back into the opposite corner and waited, hammer ready. If Hardin came at them, he would have one shot at neutralizing the fucker. After that…

  If he’d been here by himself, uninjured and armed, Thor would have taken Hardin from behind as he walked into the LO Arch. But, given the situation, it would be tactically wiser to let Hardin enter the LO Arch and then bolt up the stairs—or take the elevator, which would get them up to the station faster.

  The footsteps drew closer.

  Thor fought another wave of dizziness, his body wracked with chills, whether from hypothermia or fever, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter. All that concerned him was getting through the next few minutes alive so he could return Samantha to the safety of the station and get her the care she needed.

  And then Hardin was down, his footfalls landing on concrete now, instead of the steel grating of the stairs.

  Thor stayed motionless, sure the bastard would have the rifle raised.

  Cautious footsteps drew closer. The muzzle of the rifle appeared inside the elevator door first, then Hardin’s head came into view. He bent down, poked at the pile of blankets with the rifle.

  Thor let loose his rage, unleashed his inner monster—and brought the hammer down on Hardin’s skull with as much force as he could with one arm.

  The bastard grunted, dropped to his knees, stunned.

  Thor kicked him in the face, flinging Hardin backward out of the elevator, the rifle clattering to the elevator floor. But the action threw Thor off-balance, dizziness landing him on his back, making it hard for him to regain his feet.

  Hardin lay on the floor, moaning, blood gushing from his nose, freezing on his face. He rolled onto his hands and knees and staggered to his feet. “Why won’t you die?”

  “Why d-did you betray your c-country?” Thor managed to stand, too, but blood loss and cold were taking their toll.

  Hardin kicked him, the bastard’s boot connecting with Thor’s wounded thigh and throwing him off-balance once more.

  Thor fell back, one hand landing on the barrel of the rifle. He grabbed it, fought with all of his strength to stand just as Steve drew the pistol from his pocket. Thor didn’t give Hardin time to aim but threw himself against him. The two of them crashed to the floor beneath the stairs, and the pistol flew from Hardin’s hands.

  “You f-fucking son of a bitch!” Blood lust pounded inside Thor’s chest. He wrapped his hands around Hardin’s throat to choke the life from him.

  But Hardin went for Thor’s wounded shoulder, digging deep with his thumb, pain making Thor’s left arm useless.

  Hardin threw him off, crawled over to the pistol. “You’re tough, I’ll give you that, but I’ve got the brains.”

  “Really? How are y-you getting out of this, genius? The P-Pentagon knows you’re a t-traitor.” Thor fought his way to his feet once more, reached for the rifle with his right hand, warm blood spilling from his shoulder to freeze on his skin.

  But Hardin moved faster. He aimed the pistol at Thor’s face. “Don’t. You have nowhere to go this time. I can’t miss.”

  A shriek.

  Samantha lunged at Hardin, drove her chisel into his cheek. “You piece of shit!”

  Hardin backhanded Samantha hard enough to knock her to the floor and clutched his bleeding face. “You fucking little bitch!”

  It was the break Thor needed.

  Fighting dizziness, he picked up the rifle and aimed it at Hardin’s head. “Drop the p-pistol! On the g-ground! Hands b-behind your h-head!”

  “You heard him, you m-murdering sack of sh-shit!” Samantha got to her feet, clutching the chisel in her hand once more, fury on her face. “Get d-down!”

  Hardin dropped the pistol, looked from Samantha to Thor. “What’s the matter? Is the cold getting to the two of you?”

  “T-take the elevator upstairs. G-go, Samantha!”

  “N-not without y-you!”

  Above them, a door opened, footfalls echoing through the space.

  Jones and Segal, at last—and it sounded like they’d brought back-up.

  “Drop the weapons now!”

  Thor looked up, saw Vasily
standing with the other Russians on the stairs, their rifles pointed down at them. “Fuck.”

  * * *

  Steve gagged on the blood running down the back of his throat, the pain in his head excruciating, his broken nose throbbing, the wound in his cheek a sharp ache. He ripped the rifle out of Isaksen’s hands. “Like I said. I’ve got the brains.”

  He rammed the butt of the rifle into Isaksen’s gut.

  The fucker doubled over with a grunt, lost his balance, and sank to the floor.

  “St-stop!” Samantha threw the chisel and grabbed a moving blanket off the elevator floor, then covered Isaksen and sat behind him, cradling his head against her shoulder. “Th-Thor, are y-you okay? H-he needs the d-doctor.”

  “Fuck him!” Steve pointed the rifle at Sam’s head. “I should shoot you both!”

  “L-let her g-go.” Isaksen’s face was unnaturally pale. “She’s done n-nothing to you, Delaney.”

  Hardin flinched. “The name is Hardin.”

  “Stephen M-Michael Delaney.” Sam glared at him, her cheek red where he’d struck her. “You g-got fired by T-Titan. You w-wanted revenge.”

  Blood rushed into Steve’s head, his finger moving to the trigger.

  “Wh-what good does it d-do to kill us now?” Isaksen asked. “Everyone kn-knows. You w-won’t get away with it.”

  Vasily reached the bottom of the stairs and walked over to Steve, followed by his men. “I see you do not need our help. Put the rifle down. They are no threat.”

  Steve supposed Vasily was right. “It took you long enough.”

  Steve had returned the Russians’ rifles days ago—a gesture he’d hoped would win him their favor. It had worked. A short time ago, Vasily had promised him a flight out of here, safe harbor in Russia, and ten million US dollars in exchange for the components. He’d hoped for more, but they’d known he was desperate.

  “Y-you said you w-were my f-friend.” Sam glared at Vasily, looking like someone had just killed her puppy. “Y-you said you were P-Patty’s friend.”

  “Aw, poor baby. Do you feel betrayed?” Steve cupped his gloved hand over his injured cheek. “The fucking bitch stabbed me.”

  Vasily leaned in, examined the wound. “That little scratch? That is nothing.”

  Snap.

  At first, Steve thought Vasily had punched him in the gut, a friendly jab. Then his heart started to slam in his chest, blood rising in his throat, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He looked down and watched as Vasily withdrew a stiletto switchblade from his solar plexus. “Wh-what…?”

  Vasily leaned in close. “You murdered Patty, and you tried to kill Sam. You are lower than shit, a traitor to your friends and your country. You truly believed we would make a deal with you?”

  Steve tried to inhale, tried to speak but couldn’t, his knees buckling as the pain hit. He collapsed onto the floor, found himself staring up at the frost-covered ceiling four stories above, his heart flailing in his chest.

  He was dying.

  He was going to die here on this fucking continent and lie, frozen, in the LO Arch in a body bag just like Patty. “No!”

  Vasily leaned over him. “For traitors, hell is ice cold.”

  Steve felt the life leave his body, the world fading to black.

  * * *

  Samantha stared in mute horror as one last strangled breath left Steve’s body, blood spilling from his mouth, freezing in a pool around him. She looked from Steve to Vasily, who walked back to his men.

  With a smile on his face, he said something to Vlad in Russian—and then slit Vlad’s throat with one clean swipe of the blade. He wiped the blade on Vlad’s snow pants and turned to Samantha. “He overheard your men. Then he sent a text to this bastard and told him where you were. He betrayed you against my orders.”

  Samantha was too terrified even to scream as Vlad fell to the floor, clutching his throat, blood spilling between his fingers.

  Vasily walked over to her, making her recoil. He put the switchblade away, stripped off his parka, put it over her and Thor. “I told you I am your friend. Now I have proved myself, I think.”

  Then the doors from the LO Arch flew open, and Malik and Lev rushed through, weapons raised.

  “Nobody move!”

  “Hands above your heads!”

  Samantha gasped, raised one hand, but kept her other arm wrapped around Thor, doing her best to put pressure on his wound.

  “Not you, Samantha, sweetheart.” Malik knelt beside them, reached for his station radio. “Ryan, this is Jones. Ryan, do you copy?”

  “Jones, Ryan here.”

  “Hardin and Vlad are dead. We’re bringing Isaksen and Samantha up in the freight elevator. They’re both in bad shape. Isaksen has lost a lot of blood, and both are severely hypothermic.”

  “EMS is responding, out.”

  “Thor?” He lay still in Samantha’s arms. “Stay alive. Please, stay alive. Help him. Malik, please!”

  Thor was dying. He was bleeding to death.

  While Lev disarmed the Russians, Malik felt for Thor’s pulse. “His pulse is weak and thready. We’ve got to move. Help me get him into the elevator!”

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  Malik’s face showed only worry. “I don’t know.”

  Thor spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “A… p-pos.”

  “A pos,” Malik repeated. “We’ve got you, brother.”

  It took Samantha a moment to realize they were talking about his blood type—A positive—but then she was so sleepy.

  “We are here to help,” Vasily told Lev. “I killed that whoreson.”

  Lev knelt beside Samantha, examined her aching cheek. “Is he telling the truth?”

  “Y-yes.” Samantha struggled to keep her eyes open. She’d stopped shivering and no longer felt the cold. She knew that wasn’t good, but she couldn’t seem to care. “Don’t worry about me. Save Thor.”

  Then Lev and Malik lifted Thor and carried him between them into the elevator, Lev staying with him, keeping pressure on the gunshot wound.

  Samantha tried to stand but couldn’t. She was so sleepy, so painfully tired. She wasn’t even cold any longer.

  Vasily moved toward her, but Malik stepped in.

  “I’ve got her.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her into the elevator.

  And then they were moving, machinery humming.

  “You’d better not die on us, Viking,” Lev said.

  The words brought Samantha’s eyes open. “Thor?”

  Please, let him survive!

  When the doors opened, it was organized chaos.

  Malik lay Samantha down on a stretcher, concern on his face.

  Someone covered her with a heated blanket.

  “Stay awake, Samantha!” Ryan seemed to be in charge. He was talking into a radio. “They’re both hypothermic, but it looks like Isaksen has a bleeder in that GSW. Tell Decker to prep for emergency surgery. We’re on our way to medical.”

  “He’s A positive.” That was Malik. “Do you have blood?”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure we’ve got enough.”

  Their words swirled around Samantha, but she understood, panic trilling through her. “Thor! Is he… Will he be okay?”

  She couldn’t lose him—not Thor, too. She loved him.

  “You’re going to be okay, Samantha.” Malik was there, one of four men carrying her stretcher toward the infirmary, the lights of the hallway sliding by overhead.

  The next thing she knew, she was lifted onto a bed, something warm beneath her.

  “You came to the right place to be treated for hypothermia. That’s one thing we do well here at the South Pole.” Ryan covered her with another warm blanket. “I’ll get an IV going for heated fluids. Start warmed oxygen.”

  From nearby, she heard Decker. “Open those fluids wide. Warm all the A and O we have on station. Let’s prep for surgery.”

  “Thor!” She couldn’t lose him.

  Then her eyes closed, and her
awareness faded.

  22

  Thor opened his eyes, fluorescent light above his bed making him blink, an oxygen mask on his face, the pain in his shoulder sharp.

  “Thor?”

  Samantha.

  “Hey.” Warmth swelled in his chest at the sight of her, the sound of her voice.

  She sat beside him, her hand resting on top of his, a blanket around her shoulders, a woolen hat on her head. One cheek was bruised and swollen, and there were patches of red on her face from frostbite. “How do you feel?”

  “Det gøre fanden ondt.” It hurts like hell.

  “In English maybe?”

  “It … hurts.”

  “I bet it does.” She raised her voice. “Kristi, when can he get more morphine?”

  “Is he awake?” Kristi appeared wearing blue scrubs, a wide smile on her face. “Welcome back. I am so happy you’re still with us. Are you in pain?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Samantha stayed with him. “They got the bullet out, along with some fabric from your shirt. The bullet nicked a small artery. That’s why you lost so much blood.”

  “The posterior humeral circumflex artery,” Kristi said from the other side of the curtain. “We had to give you six units of blood.”

  “They said that your carrying me, going down the ladder to the ice tunnel, and fighting with that bastard did more damage and made the bleeding worse.”

  Kristi ducked inside the curtain, injected something into his IV. “You had also developed an infection, so you’re getting IV antibiotics for that. Luckily for you, you had the best medical team at the South Pole at your side.”

  Samantha rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. “That’s the only medical team at the South Pole.”

  “But, hey, we’re top-notch. Decker’s a trauma surgeon. I’m an ER nurse. I have to say, I never thought I’d be treating GSWs—gunshot wounds—here.”

  The pain in Thor’s shoulder began to fade. “Thank you, Kristi—for all of it.”

  “You’re welcome. Now that you’re awake, maybe you can tell Samantha to get back into bed. She’s been sitting at your side all morning, so I made her wear a wool hat. She’s still a little hypothermic. Hardin or Delaney or whoever he was fractured her cheek, so she’ll be our guest for another day or so. You are both lucky to be alive.”