by Dirk Patton
The last line was delivered with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“Guess you had to be there,” I mumbled, properly embarrassed.
“Look,” he said, getting serious again. “You’re asking me to help you put the lives of millions of Australians at risk. Something goes wrong, anything at all, and that Russian prick will release the gas. If that happens… Anyway, look at it from my perspective for a moment.”
“What will it take to convince you?” I asked, hope waning.
“Don’t have an answer for you,” he said, tilting the can of Foster’s back and draining it.
“How about if you talk to the scientists? Would that do it?”
“Thought you didn’t want to risk a call that could be intercepted,” he said.
“I don’t,” I said. “But if that’s what it’s going to take for you to help, I’m going to have to take the chance. SEALs have got an encrypted sat phone with them. Let’s make the call.”
I stared at him, waiting for an answer. He didn’t seem in any hurry, apparently content to just watch the dogs playing with a filthy length of rope. At the moment, Dog was dragging three of his mutts through the dirt as they tried to tug it away from him.
“Make the call,” he said after several minutes of silence.
17
“Hope you fly better’n you drive,” I said a couple of hours later.
“Crash into two police cars in London and you’re branded for life,” Lucas said, grinning as he shoved open the second door to the barn where his light plane was stored.
I’d made the call, getting connected with Captain West. After explaining the situation, he’d told me to wait, then had hung up. Half an hour later, the secure phone rang and he’d had a research scientist named Hironata on the line. Handing the phone to Lucas, I’d stepped a few feet away and lit a cigarette.
They talked for forty minutes. Well, most of that time Lucas was listening, but the call lasted that long. He’d asked several questions at the end, nodding at the answers he received. When he finished the call, he’d told me we were taking a trip.
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” I said as he made a quick survey of the exterior of the plane.
“Southern coast. Big nature preserve,” he said. “Should only take us a couple hours to get there.”
“What the hell for?”
“Lady told me one of her data stations is located there, and I want to see for myself.”
“Jesus, Lucas. You didn’t believe her?” I asked.
“My way or no way,” he said, opening one of the cockpit doors. “You gettin’ in?”
Shaking my head, I walked around and climbed into the plane that felt about as big as a toy.
“Sure we can’t take the C-130?” I asked, looking around.
“Don’t be a pussy,” he said, reaching out and flipping a couple of switches before pressing the starter.
I got my seat harness buckled and held on tight as he revved the engines and taxied out to the dirt runway. The Hercules had been pulled to the side and looked massive compared to what I was riding in.
“Keep your eyes open for roos!” Lucas said with a grin as he shoved the throttles all the way forward.
The small plane leapt ahead, bouncing on the ruts left by my arrival as it picked up speed. Surprisingly fast, we were in the air. Lucas climbed steeply, banking into a turn that gave me a panoramic view of his spread.
“How big is your place?” I asked, holding on to a grab bar with all my strength.
“’Bout six thousand acres,” he said.
“Jesus!” I said in surprise. “How the hell did you get that much land? Rich uncle?”
He chuckled and shook his head as we climbed higher and left his house behind.
“Look at it,” he said, pointing out my window. “Nothin’ but dirt, rocks and snakes. Suits me fine, but it’s not exactly prime real estate. Got it cheap.”
I stared out the window, thinking about his comment. It made sense. In a country with a land mass larger than the continental US and only twenty-four million residents, that leaves a lot of land. Especially if you’re content to live in the middle of nowhere rather than the crowded coastal cities.
We chatted about different things as Lucas flew, getting caught up on everything that I was willing to talk about. My reticence on certain subjects had nothing to do with him, I just didn’t feel like talking about them with anyone.
“So, what’s with Rachel? And I’m sorry again about what I said earlier.”
“No worries,” I said. “I understand why you did it.”
“Well?” he asked when I didn’t continue.
I told him everything. How we met and what we’d been through together since the night of the attacks. Reliving it reminded me of just how special Rachel was. When I was done, we both fell silent. Lucas seemed to enjoy piloting the plane, but I wasn’t thrilled with the bumpy ride.
“Why’d you bring her?” he asked, startling me out of my thoughts.
“What?”
“Rachel. Why’d you bring her with you? She’s not an operator.”
“Because I’m not going back.”
This was the first time I’d voiced the decision I’d made.
“Why not?” Lucas asked, turning to look at me.
“If I survive this, my future’s with her. The only place to live if I go home will be in Arizona. Too many ghosts for me. Couldn’t settle down there. Wouldn’t be fair to Rachel. So, I was thinking it was time for a fresh start.”
“Here?”
“That’s what I was thinking,” I said.
“Hell, why didn’t you say so already?” he said with a smile. “Got miles and miles of empty. I’m sure we can find a place for you to build.”
“You sure about that?” I asked. “Will Ziggy be okay with that?”
Lucas threw his head back and laughed.
“Will Ziggy be okay? You saw how many swinging willies there are at my place. Not a single one of those sods has got a wife. Plenty of exes, but all of ‘em came alone. It’s turning into a boy’s club. You two settle down close by and she’d probably build a house for you just to have a woman to talk to!
“Don’t get me wrong, she loves having them around. Gets to be the den mother and they’ve already figured out it’s a bad idea to not do what Ziggy says, when Ziggy says to do it. But it would be good for her to have a friend that was more mature than a high school footballer.”
I smiled at his words, but he’d only answered half my question.
“What about you?” I asked when he was through laughing.
“Mate,” he said, turning to look at me. “I already made you an offer a few months ago. Nothin’s changed as far as I’m concerned.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he chuckled. “You two livin’ close, guess who gets babysitting duty on Saturday nights?”
Before I could respond, he banked hard to the left and headed for the ground. Bracing myself, I started to ask what the hell he was doing, then saw a primitive landing strip carved out of a dense stand of trees far below. Only a few hundred yards to its south was a narrow strip of sand, then the blue water of the ocean.
Lucas got us on the ground quickly, taxiing to the end of the short strip and turning so we were facing into the wind before he killed the engines. We shrugged free of the harnesses and stepped out in the late afternoon.
“What now?” I asked, but he held up a hand to quiet me.
I looked around, hand automatically going to the rifle slung around my shoulders. Nothing was moving and the only sound was the sigh of an ocean breeze in the trees.
“Hear that?” Lucas asked after a few minutes.
“What?” I asked, still scanning our surroundings. “I don’t hear anything.”
“That’s what’s wrong,” he said. “Been here a couple of times and the place was always lousy with sea birds. Loud as hell. Couldn’t hardly hear yourself think with all of
them squawking and screaming at each other.”
We stood in place for another few minutes, then Lucas shook his head.
“Let’s go to the beach,” he said.
He knew the area, so I was content to follow him through the trees. They were thick, the narrow trail in deep shade. A few minutes later we emerged on the edge of the sand and came to a stop. Several large carcasses rolled gently in the surf. But there were no birds feasting on them.
Crossing the soft sand, we looked down at a dead seal. There was no stench of decay, no bloating of the carcass and no strips of flesh torn off by scavengers. Lucas looked at it for a long moment before shielding his eyes and scanning the water.
“More floating out there,” he said.
I looked where he was and saw at least a dozen dark shapes bobbing in the gentle, offshore swells. Lucas stared at them, seemingly transfixed, for several minutes. Finally, he turned back to the dead seal and nodded.
“Guess it’s the truth,” he muttered, looking up at me with haunted eyes.
I was still staring out to sea, a dark smudge on the horizon having caught my attention. It seemed to be growing as I watched, coming closer to where we stood. Raising my rifle, I peered through the scope, but there wasn’t enough magnification to make out any detail.
“What the fuck is that?” Lucas breathed, also looking through his rifle scope.
We stood there, unmoving, as whatever it was steadily drew closer. Slowly, details began to appear and a thrill of fear ran through me.
“Run!” I said, dropping the rifle to the end of its sling and dashing across the sand.
Lucas followed as I charged into the trees and pushed hard.
“It’s just birds,” he shouted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Later! Just get to the goddamn plane and get us the hell out of here!” I yelled without slowing.
Someone who didn’t know me might have dismissed my actions as those of a crank, but Lucas had spent enough time fighting at my side to know better than to continue asking questions. We burst out of the trees and turned to cross the final hundred yards to where the plane was parked. I risked a glance over my shoulder, seeing the massive flock of birds were now over the trees and closing quickly.
“Faster!” I gasped, pulling away from Lucas.
He looked back then put on a burst of speed. Together, we pounded across the crushed shell surface of the landing strip, frantically tearing the cockpit doors open and jumping inside. Both of us were breathing hard and Lucas’s hand shook slightly from the adrenaline as he reached for the starter.
Before he could push the button, the first bird slammed into the windscreen. Within seconds, the plane rocked as there were hundreds of muted impacts on the exterior skin. Soon, it was almost dark inside the cockpit as thousands of seagulls smothered the aircraft. They were silent as they attacked, only the beat of wings and scrape of beaks on metal to be heard. We were able to get a good look at the massive flock that had trapped us, and every eye was blood red.
18
Igor came to a stop, surprising Irina who had been following in his tracks. The snow was still falling and enough had accumulated to make their trek a test in endurance and determination. She’d fallen into a rhythm, taking advantage of the path he was forging and doing her best to walk in his tracks.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Look,” Igor said, pointing.
A few meters ahead, a rusting metal sign had been nailed to the thick trunk of a tree. It warned its readers, in no uncertain terms, that they were approaching a government reeducation camp and were not to proceed under penalty of arrest and execution. Igor pulled the sat-comm unit out of his pocket and activated the GPS function only. It quickly identified their position and he grunted before shutting it down.
“Still a kilometer away,” he said. “They set up a large buffer zone.”
“Will they have patrols out?”
“I do not think so. The guards at these camps are just peasants. They’re only here because there wasn’t another option. In this weather, they’re going to be huddled around a stove, drinking vodka.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Irina asked when Igor didn’t seem inclined to keep moving forward.
“Sun is coming up,” he gestured over his shoulder.
Irina looked around, seeing a faint, pale light on the southeastern horizon.
“Yes, but this is winter in Siberia. The day won’t last more than two or three hours.”
“If we continue, we’re going to leave tracks in the new snow. And if I’m wrong and the camp does send a patrol out once it’s light, they’d have to be blind and stupid not to know someone walked in during the night. No, we need to wait until the day passes.”
Without further discussion, Igor turned, stepped around Irina and retraced their path for nearly a kilometer.
“This is good,” he said when he stopped.
They were in a particularly dense part of the forest and Igor set about gathering fallen branches. Shaking them free of snow, he quickly built a small lean-to beneath the spreading bows of a massive evergreen tree. It grew so thickly that the carpet of needles at its base had been protected from the snow and was completely dry.
Scraping them into a pile, he placed twigs on top and set to work with a flint. After only a few sparks, they burst into flames. Carefully, he added bigger sticks, occasionally snapping some of them with his knee, until the fire was large enough to provide them with some heat.
While Irina huddled as close to the flames as she could, Igor removed a parachute canopy from his pack, folded it over several times then spread it over the frame of the lean-to he’d built. With it in place, they were sheltered from the wind and the air quickly grew warm from the fire.
“You sleep now,” he said, sitting with his back to the fire, rifle resting across his knees.
“Wake me in a couple of hours,” Irina said, gratefully laying down by the fire. “We’ll take turns keeping watch.”
Igor grunted, but she was already asleep.
When he shook her awake, it was dark and the wind was howling even worse than before. Sitting up, she looked around then turned towards him.
“You were supposed to wake me! You haven’t slept?”
“I rested,” Igor said.
Irina shook her head and stepped around the tree to relieve herself. While she was taking care of business, Igor prepared two American MREs which they quickly devoured. He tossed the trash into the flames, the packaging quickly reduced to almost nothing. Once it was no longer identifiable, he smothered the fire with snow, folded and returned the canopy to his pack and dismantled the lean-to.
They set out after that, Igor having to force his way through the fresh snow that had covered their trail from earlier in the day. Irina, fatigued even though she’d slept, struggled to stay in his tracks. It was no longer snowing and she glanced behind them to see clear signs of their passing.
“Don’t we still have the same problem?” she asked. “We’re going to leave tracks that can be seen tomorrow.”
“Smell the wind,” Igor said without breaking stride.
Irina frowned, but did as he said. The air was heavy and cold enough to burn her sinuses.
“What about it?” she asked, confused.
“More snow coming,” he said.
Irina lowered the scarf that protected her face from frostbite a second time and drew in more air through her nose. She couldn’t detect whatever it was Igor could smell, but she trusted him. Shrugging, she rewrapped her face, making sure the thick fabric was pulled all the way to the night vision goggles that protected her eyes from the icy weather.
Over an hour later, they huddled behind a tree, staring at Camp 7. It was sprawling, stretching farther into the distance than they could see. Ahead of them, a single strand of barbed wire attached to wooden posts defined the perimeter. There were no guard towers. No wall. Hardly even any lighting. None of that was needed. If a prison
er wanted to slip out and take his chances in the Siberian forest, that was fine with the guards. They’d just go out and retrieve the frozen corpse the next day.
A haze hung over the camp. It was in a shallow valley, sheltered from the bone chilling wind that blew from the north. The prisoner barracks were heated by wood stoves, and the outside air temperature was so cold that instead of rising, the smoke settled to hover near the ground.
Igor pulled out the sat-comm and handed it to Irina. They had already discussed the need to check in before entering the camp. While she activated the device, he began digging in the snow. When he was finished, he removed two pairs of cheap, battered boots from his pack and put in his and Irina’s night vision goggles. He added in spare magazines and put it and his rifle into the hole. He was only taking a knife and a small, sound suppressed pistol into the camp.
He removed his heavily insulated, US issue boots and tossed them into the hole before pulling on a pair that would match the ones worn by the prisoners. As Irina spoke softly to Hawaii, he unlaced and pulled hers off, adding them to the hole. She kept her legs in the air so he could tug the new ones onto her feet.
Covering the gear and smoothing the surface, he snapped a small branch off the tree and stuck it into the snow at a sharp angle. It wouldn’t draw attention, but would help him locate the spot, which looked the same as a thousand others that surrounded the camp.
“John is in Australia,” Irina said, returning the sat-comm to Igor.
He nodded and shoved the unit into a pocket deep inside his rough coat. They were now dressed identically to the prisoners, other than the specialized polypropylene underwear that had kept them warm and alive on their journey across the tundra. Irina pulled on the hood that hung from the rough coat she wore, adjusting the scarf to conceal her lower face and turned to Igor.
“Do not look anyone in the eye,” he reminded her. “No man has eyes as pretty as yours.”
Though he couldn’t see her smile, the way her eyes crinkled told him she was flattered by his comment.
“I’m not saying that to make you feel good,” he said sternly. “I am serious. The clothing hides your body, but nothing will hide your eyes.”
