were on their own.
They fled up the tunnels, racing through a series of convoluted passages.
Then Matt felt it: the buzz saw of the beast’s sonar.
The bastard had found them.
As he reached the end of a particularly long, straight chute, Matt glanced behind him. A pair of red eyes blinked into existence. Across twenty yards, they matched gazes: predator and prey.
A rumbled growl flowed from the grendel.
The challenge was given.
The final chase was on.
Jenny fled with Kowalski across the snow. They ducked low as they ran, limiting their silhouettes. Wind shoved against their shoulders, trying to force them back. The edges of Jenny’s makeshift woolen poncho flapped and snapped. She used one hand to clutch the hood around her head, pulling the corners up over her mouth and nose, leaving only the goggles exposed.
They trudged on. The winds, the snow, the ice…all made their escape slow and torturous. The exposed inches of her skin already burned. But she dared not let up the fight.
Behind them, the sounds of gunfire cracked and echoed through the blizzard — but the shots weren’t directed at them. As planned, Sewell and the others had feigned a frontal assault, a rush at the barracks doors, intending to draw attention from the fleeing pair. The Russians would be forced to call for reinforcements to the barracks.
Jenny prayed no one was killed, but fear for her father was foremost in her mind.
Especially since their plan was feeble: get aloft, call for help, and ride the winds to the coast.
They rounded another building. The base’s parking lot appeared ahead. Across the ice field, shadowed mounds marked the resting places of various snow machines, a wintry cemetery of abandoned vehicles.
But there was no sign of the plane. With visibility down to a few yards, it lay cloaked somewhere deeper out in the snowstorm.
Crouched in the lee of the hut, Jenny tried to get her bearings. Blinded by the blizzard, they might walk right past the Otter without even seeing it. And they didn’t have the time to wander around and around. If the Russians didn’t kill them, the weather would.
Now that they had stopped, the cold sank through the layers of Jenny’s clothing, seeking the marrow of her bones. Her cheeks felt like they’d been scrubbed with a wire brush. She rubbed circulation into them with her palms. Her fingers felt swollen, like numb sausages.
They waited for the winds to let up for a single breath, hoping for the briefest glimpse of their target out on the ice field. But the winds didn’t cooperate. They continued to blow steady and strong, as sure as any ocean current.
Finally Kowalski’s patience wore thin. “Let’s go!” he hissed in her ear. “We can’t wait any longer.”
Behind them, the gunfire had died away. Sewell’s feigned insurrection had already been shut down. If the Russians performed a head count, they would come up with two short, and a search would start. They had to be gone before that happened.
Kowalski shouldered his way back into the full force of the wind. Jenny followed, using his broad back as a windbreak. They crossed through the parking lot and out into the scoured ice fields.
After ten steps, Jenny glanced over a shoulder.
The base had already vanished into the storm. Even the lights seemed more mirage than real.
They continued into the ice field. Jenny sought any sign of her aircraft. But they moved inside a white bubble, a snow globe continually shaken and swirled. They moved slowly, placing one foot in front of the other, aiming as straight as they could.
Minutes passed. Jenny grew concerned.
Then a flickering light appeared. Kowalski swore. It had to be one of the base’s peripheral lamp poles, run off the generators. Disoriented, they had somehow circled back. But it made no sense. The wind was still in their faces.
A shadow suddenly darted through the weak glow. Dark and low to the ground…coming at them.
Jenny and Kowalski froze.
It moved too fast to discern any details.
Out of the storm, the dark beast lunged.
Kowalski bent to take the brunt of the charge, a bear about to take on a lion.
Then in a blink, the snow swirled, transforming shadowy beast into heartfelt companion.
“Bane!” Jenny dove around the Navy seaman and stepped into the wolf’s lunge. The huge canine knocked her back onto her rear. A hot tongue sought her cold skin.
The wolf could not push any closer to her, trying to merge his form with hers, scrambling, whining.
The light, borne aloft, approached. It was not a lamp pole, but a figure bearing a burning flare in hand. The shape, obscured by a thick parka, stepped toward them.
Jenny noted one thing immediately. It was a
“I knew it had to be either you or your husband,” the newcomer said. Relief rang in his voice. It was Tom Pomautuk, the ensign left in charge of Bane. “Bane started whining, then suddenly ripped out of his lead.”
Kowalski gained his feet. “Where have you been hiding?”
The young ensign pointed his flare. “Sheriff Aratuk’s airplane. When the first explosion hit, Bane bolted out here.”
“I had to follow,” Tom continued. “The dog was my responsibility. And once I realized what was happening, I thought I could use the radio to transmit a Mayday.”
“Did you reach anyone?”
Tom shook his head. “I didn’t have much time to try. I had to hide from the patrols, cram myself and the dog into the cargo space. But after the blizzard struck, I doubted anyone would risk coming out here. So I tried again. As a matter of fact, I was outside the plane, burning ice from the antennas with the flare, when Bane started to whine and tug in your direction.”
Jenny gave Bane a final pat. “Let’s get out of this wind.”
“Amen to that,” Kowalski said, a shiver trembling through his frame.
“What’s the plan?” Tom asked, leading them across the ice. The ghostly shape of the Twin Otter grew out of the white background.
Jenny answered, “First let’s pray the engines turn over. Under the cover of the storm, we should be able to start the engines with no one hearing. But it’ll still take a few minutes to warm them up.”
“You want to take off?” Tom asked, turning back to her. “Fly — in this weather?”
“I’ve flown in whiteout conditions before,” Jenny assured him. But this was no ice fog, she added to herself. The blizzard would challenge all her skill.
They reached the plane, undid the storm ties, and yanked away the frozen chocks. Once ready, they climbed inside. Insulated from the wind, the cabin seemed fifty degrees warmer. Jenny climbed over to her pilot’s seat. Kowalski took the copilot’s chair. Tom and Bane shared the row behind them.
The plane’s keys were still where she had left them. She switched on main power and ran a quick systems check. All seemed in order. She flipped toggles, disengaging the engine-block heaters from the auxiliary battery.
“Here goes nothing,” Jenny said, powering up the twin engines. The familiar vibrato of power trembled through her seat cushion.
The engine noise was lost somewhat on the winds, but Jenny could still discern the whine of the twin motors. How far did the sound carry? Were the Russians coming even now?
She glanced to Kowalski. He shrugged as if reading her mind.
