by Dirk Patton
The sound of fabric flapping in the wind drew her to the first body. It was one of the SEALs. Apparently, he’d successfully deployed his reserve chute, but had been too low and too close to the forest. The nylon canopy was tangled in the branches of a barren tree, the American’s shattered body lying on the hard ground.
Irina took a moment to check for a pulse, quickly pulling her glove back on when she only felt frigid skin. She took the time to grab the night vision goggles off the man’s head, but let them fall to the ground when she saw they had been broken by the impact. Taking his rifle and several spare magazines, she pushed deeper into the forest.
Reaching a small clearing, she paused at the sight of another parachute dangling from a tree branch. The harness swung in the wind, several meters above the ground, but it was empty. She stared in surprise that anyone had been able to get themselves to the ground without breaking a leg. The only thing that made sense was the man had managed to climb up the canopy lines and then down the tree. So, someone had survived. But who? And why weren’t they answering their radio?
With a bad feeling, Irina reached into the small pocket that held the actual transceiver which was about half the size of a cell phone. As soon as her fingers touched it, her fear was confirmed. The small piece of electronics, tough though it may be, had been shattered by her less than perfect landing. Cursing herself for not having checked before she started running around, she retraced her path to the dead American.
His radio was intact and she quickly unplugged her earpiece and swapped to the undamaged unit. The instant the connection was made, her heart leapt for joy when Igor’s voice boomed in her ear.
“I’m here!” she called back. “I’m okay. Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. Where are you?”
The relief in his voice was palpable. Irina looked around for a landmark, but couldn’t see any way to describe where she was. Then she remembered.
“Was it you that got caught in a tree in a clearing?”
“Yes,” Igor said. “Are you there?”
“I will be in five minutes!”
Irina set off at a jog, desperately happy that Igor had survived. She was also more than a little relieved that she wasn’t completely alone in the dark forest. Wolves roamed this part of Siberia, or so she’d been told.
Reaching the clearing, she dashed ahead when she saw Igor’s hulking form waiting for her. He swept her into his arms, lifting her clear of the ground. For a long time, they stayed like that, holding each other.
“Did anyone else survive?” she asked when he put her down.
“No one else has responded to my calls. I found one of the Americans in that direction,” he said, pointing opposite of where Irina had come from. “He is dead.”
Irina told him about the body she’d found and he slowly nodded his big head.
“What do we do, now?” she asked after a long silence.
“We must find the man who carried the satellite communications gear,” Igor said. “Without that, we cannot receive the signal to proceed and extract your uncle.”
“We can’t take it inside the camp!” Irina exclaimed. “If anyone sees it, they will know we aren’t really prisoners.”
“No other choice,” Igor said. “If we do not have it with us, we will not know when to leave, nor will your uncle be able to broadcast to the other commanders. Without it, there is no point in going into the camp.”
“There’s a point to rescuing my uncle from that place, even if it doesn’t help the mission!”
Irina understood that Igor was only speaking from an operational perspective, but his statement still upset her.
“I am sorry,” he said immediately. “That is not what I meant.”
Irina nodded, reaching out and squeezing his arm by way of apology.
“So, how do we find the gear?” she asked.
“We must search for the bodies until we locate the correct one.”
“Bodies? You’re assuming they’re all dead?”
“Must assume the worst until proven wrong,” Igor said, paraphrasing an old Russian proverb.
He gave Irina a sad grin and led the way out of the clearing.
15
They searched for hours, trudging through the sub-zero weather with the stoicism towards cold of true Russians. At least they were properly dressed for the conditions. Sometime in the early morning hours, heavy clouds obscured the moon and it began snowing. Big, fat flakes fell, quickly blanketing the icy ground.
So far, they’d found three more SEALs. All were dead. Two had managed to deploy their reserve chutes, but the third had burned in before he could get it open. None of them carried the comm gear, but at least they now had two sets of working night vision goggles.
“Still three to find,” Igor said when they finished searching the third dead man.
“Can we stop and build a fire?” Irina asked as Igor turned to continue looking.
“No time,” he said, shaking his head and holding a big hand out to catch some snowflakes. “It isn’t stopping, and soon the bodies will be covered and we might not find them until the spring thaw. We must keep going.”
Irina nodded unhappily and followed as he set off in a new direction. She knew he was right. The snow was already several centimeters deep and still piling up. In Siberia, it could continue until there was more than a meter on the ground, or perhaps even more. If they didn’t locate the other SEALs before that happened…
But what would they do when they did find the comm gear they needed so badly? The camp was at least fifteen kilometers away, with nothing but wilderness between here and there. How were she and Igor going to make that journey on foot if it continued to snow?
They’d launched the mission without being able to take the weather into account. There weren’t any meteorological satellites still functioning, and if the ground based stations scattered across Siberia were operational, the American’s hadn’t been able to find a way to access their data. So, they’d relied on a visual observation from one of the NSA satellite and taken a chance that the weather would hold long enough for the team to reach the prison.
Igor grunted and rushed forward, Irina hurrying to keep up with his much longer legs. He knelt near the base of a large tree and as she drew closer she could see another of the SEALs lying in the snow.
“He’s alive!” Igor said, surprising her.
Dropping to her knees on the opposite side of the man, her initial surge of hope was dashed when she saw the condition he was in. He looked up at them with pain filled eyes, but didn’t turn his head which was resting at an odd angle. The clear face mask had been jarred free by his impact with the ground, or the man would have suffocated long ago.
“Can you move?” Irina asked.
“Fuckin’ neck’s broken,” the man said, his voice sounding wet and whispery. “Canopy got blown into the tree, then I slammed into the goddamn trunk. Anybody else make it?”
“Just us,” Irina answered then looked up at Igor. “What do we do?”
“Morphine in my pack,” the SEAL said, eyes locked on Igor’s.
“Need satellite comm,” Igor said in English.
“It’s in there, too,” the man wheezed. “You need a PIN to unlock it. 5-8-1-3-4-7. Say it back.”
Igor repeated the code, then had Irina do the same. Searching the SEAL’s pack, he found the device, then kept looking until he located a small, hard-sided case that contained two spring-loaded morphine syrettes. He removed both, the injured man watching every move.
“Wait!” Irina said. “Two is too many. It will kill him!”
“It’s alright,” the American said. “Not going anywhere. It’s not like there’s a hospital around the corner. Looking forward to seeing my wife and girls again, anyway.”
Irina stared at him in shock for a moment, slowly raising her head and looking around the dark, snowy forest. There was no help for anyone.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Igor paused a mom
ent, then administered the first dose. He quickly injected the second one, focusing on his hands as he worked.
“Thank you,” the SEAL said, coughing weakly. “You’re not so bad for an Ivan.”
Igor smiled and sat down in the snow next to the man.
“Don’t wait for me,” he said, his voice noticeably weaker. “It’s gonna take as long as it takes. You need to move before the snow gets any deeper.”
“We wait,” Igor said, glancing at Irina.
“Tell me about your family,” she said, gently taking the dying man’s hand in hers, even though he couldn’t feel the touch.
He smiled, coughed again, and began talking in a faraway voice. In only a few minutes he was slurring his words. Soon, only an occasional whisper passed his lips. Irina continued to hold his hand until Igor removed his glove and placed a finger on the SEAL’s neck.
“He is gone,” he said quietly.
Irina slowly stood, looking down as Igor gathered the comm gear and got to his feet.
“We should check in,” she said, pointing at the equipment.
Igor nodded, leading her a short distance away from the dead American before handing it to her.
“Your English is much better.”
Irina took the device and lifted a protective cover that shielded the keypad. The PIN unlocked the unit, which automatically synchronized with a satellite signal and initiated contact with the CIC at Pearl Harbor. Moments later she was speaking with the Tactical Action Officer who had been assigned to the mission.
In brief sentences, she explained the current situation. The man listened without interrupting.
“Are you able to continue?” he asked when she was done.
“Yes,” Irina said. “We are proceeding.”
“Check in before infiltrating target,” he said, then broke the connection.
“What did they say?” Igor asked when she closed the cover.
“We should check in before entering the camp.”
He nodded and took the unit back, checking their position with the GPS before slipping it into a deep cargo pocket in his pants.
“Eighteen kilometers,” he said, pointing to the west. “Do you need to rest?”
“We should go before the snow gets any deeper,” Irina said, shaking her head.
16
Lucas and I sat in a couple of battered chairs under the shade of a ratty umbrella that was stuck into the dry dirt. We were about fifty yards from the main house and other than a spot to escape his screaming herd of children, I couldn’t figure out a reason for its location. It’s kind of like he’d walked until reaching a point where it was quiet, then had speared it into the ground like a country planting a flag after seizing territory.
It was hot, being summer in the southern hemisphere, but I wasn’t complaining. I’ve always been a warm weather guy, never appreciating the cold. Personally, I think anyone who enjoys putting on twenty pounds of clothing and playing in the snow is a little touched in the head.
The wind shifted and the familiar odor of livestock drifted across me. On the far edge of the main house was a large pen that held at least a hundred sheep. There were also nearly half that many lambs running around amongst them. To the side, a group of goats stood in the shade of a pole barn, keeping a close eye on us.
Reaching into the cooler between us, I stuck my hand into the half-melted ice and grabbed another can of beer. Foster’s, of course, since I was in Australia. Watching Dog playing with Lucas’s dogs, I popped the top and thought that maybe he had things pretty good.
“You didn’t tell me why all your old mates from the Regiment are here,” I said after taking a long drink.
“Fucking PM,” Lucas said, belching as he reached for another beer. “After what he pulled when your SEALs came to take out Barinov, well, didn’t sit right with them. One by one, they’ve been dragging their sorry asses in over the past few days.”
“Heard you got a lot of military feel the same way,” I said. “Refusing to leave their barracks. That sort of thing.”
Lucas nodded as I was speaking.
“Smyth showed up yesterday afternoon. Said about half the military has just walked out. Canberra’s in a twit because they all took their rifles with them. And there’s supposed to be a lot of heavy weapons and munitions missing, too.”
There was something about his voice when he answered and I gave him a sideways look.
“What?” he asked, letting loose with another impressive belch.
“You act like that around Ziggy?” I asked with a grin.
“Fuck no! Why ya think I’m set up all the way out here?”
I grinned and shook my head.
“So, all those desertions,” I prompted.
“What about ‘em?”
“Known you a long time, Lucas. I’m betting you know more about it than you’re letting on.”
He looked at me for a moment then turned to face the horizon and took another drink.
“You overestimate me, mate. I’m just a lowly NCO that got called back up when the shite hit the fan.”
I snorted a laugh before draining the can that was in my hand.
“Whatever you say. It’s your house,” I said. “But about my earlier question? Know anyone in Sydney that can help?”
I’d spent the last hour bringing him up to speed, including the details on why I was here with a team of SEALs. He’d listened closely, then disappeared inside to retrieve the cooler of beer.
“Haven’t heard how you plan to deal with the nerve gas,” he said after a long silence. “That bastard releases it, well, there are going to be a lot of dead people.”
I nodded in agreement and explained to him the same argument I’d made to Admiral Packard.
“Sounds like you’re flying by the seat of your pants. Again,” he said when I finished.
“Kind of,” I admitted. “But you know I’m right. And you know we’ve got to get rid of this fucker. You’ll probably be fine out here in the middle of the desert, but one way or another, there’s going to be a lot of people in the cities that will die. Whether he pushes the button, or they starve to death because there was no time to prepare.”
He looked at me for a long stretch, then pulled out two more beers and handed one to me.
“This is fucked,” Lucas said as he popped open the fresh can.
“No doubt. But we’ve got a chance to make the best of it. If we can get rid of the threat of nerve gas attacks in Australia, or Hawaii being attacked again, there’s time to do what needs to be done to ensure the survival of both countries. But the goddamn clock is ticking, brother. It’s time to shit or get off the pot.”
“Need to think about it,” he said.
I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t a point. I’d laid out the case and it was now up to Lucas. In a way, I felt sorry for him. I’d just dropped in out of the sky and told him the planet was going to die. All things considered, he was taking it better than I’d expected.
“What happened to Katie?” he asked, surprising me at the sudden change in topics.
I sighed, then told him an abbreviated version of the events that had resulted in my wife’s death.
“How you dealing with it?” he asked.
“Some days are better than others,” I said truthfully.
“Looks pretty good to me, that Amazon goddess you brought with you,” he said.
“Fuck you, Lucas,” I said, guilt fueled anger immediately boiling inside me.
“You think killing Barinov is going to bring your wife back or make things even?” he asked, not backing down an inch. “Or is it settling a debt so you can diddle the sheila without feeling guilty?”
“Lucas,” I growled in a low voice. “You’re about one word away from getting your ass stomped into the dirt.”
He looked at me for a long moment, then stood. I leapt to my feet, ready to carry out my threat, but stopped in surprise when he held his hand out.
“I’m sorry, mate. I really am, but I
had to see how you’d react. Had to know if you were on the up and up, or just here for vengeance.”
I stared at him for a few seconds, breathing hard as the anger slowly dissipated. Finally, I shook his hand, then grimaced when he pulled me into a hug.
“Great way to get your ass kicked,” I groused when he stepped away.
Lucas laughed and shook his head.
“Like you could,” he snorted.
I shook my head and sat back down.
“Wanted to see the anger,” he said. “If you’d protested or tried to convince me I was wrong, I’d have known you were full of shite. You still might be, but at least you’re telling me what you think is the truth.”
He popped open another beer, handing it to me before sitting down.
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.
“That whole part about the blight. How sure are you about that?”
I started to open my mouth, then paused to think about what he was asking.
“I don’t have any reason to doubt it,” I said. “Why else would the Admiral be moving the entire surviving population of America from Hawaii to the mainland?”
“I’m sure if we have a couple more beers, we can come up with a lot of reasons,” he said. “But what I’m asking is, are you sure there isn’t another agenda you aren’t aware of?”
“Well, hell, you dumb Aussie. If I wasn’t aware of it to begin with, how can I be sure it doesn’t exist?”
“You know what I mean,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, I do,” I said. “And if the CIA still existed, I’d have asked to see the evidence myself. But this is coming from research scientists at the university. The Admiral’s seen it himself.”
“This the same Admiral that’s running for President?”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“How the hell do you know about that?” I asked.
“I live in the desert, not a vacuum. You think the Australian media isn’t fascinated with everything you Yanks are doing? Hell, I watched your arrival in Hawaii on TV the other day. Damn near brought a tear to my eye.”
