The gunfire grew more intense.
“Now what do we do?” Tom asked.
From his position behind the ice ridge, Matt watched as Washburn was tackled, swamped under three men. She kicked and fought, but it was no use. More soldiers moved out, flanking the entrance. Additional men took up sniping positions within the shelter of the entrance hall.
It wouldn’t be long until Matt and Bratt were outflanked and shot. Matt covered the men near the entrance, trying to keep them from edging into a position from which they could shoot directly at his group. Bratt did the same with the group hiding among the tents.
But they were running low on ammunition.
“I’ll try to draw their fire,” Bratt said. “Make for the vehicles. Try to grab one and head out.”
“What about you?”
Bratt shied from the question. “I’ll do what I can to hold them off you for as long as possible.”
Matt hesitated.
Bratt turned to him, his eyes fierce. “This isn’t your war!”
Bratt turned his attention, pulling out a grenade from a pocket. He pointed and signaled his plan. “Ready.”
Matt took a deep breath and pushed himself from his belly into a crouch, keeping low. “Go!”
Bratt lobbed the grenade. He didn’t have the arm to reach the group in the tents, not against the winds blowing out from the ice mountains. But he did a damn good job anyway. The explosion of ice obliterated the view.
That was Matt’s cue. He took off at a full sprint. Behind him, Bratt twisted to fire at the men positioned near the station entrance.
The plan might have worked, except that the Russians by the tents had managed to load their rocket launcher. Matt heard the fizzling blast, followed by the telltale whistle.
He dove and twisted, skidding a few yards on his shoulder. The sharp ice shredded his parka. He watched Bratt turn, ready to leap away, but the distances were too short, the rocket too fast.
Matt covered his face, both to protect himself and not to watch.
The rocket struck with a resounding blast. The ice shuddered under Matt. He lowered his arm and pushed up. Their temporary shelter was now a smoking hole of steam.
There was no sign of Bratt.
Then a boot landed beside him, thudding in the snow, sizzling against the ice.
Horrified, Matt rolled away. He shoved to his feet. Not allowing the man’s sacrifice to be in vain, he ran for the vehicles.
Jenny stared at the lone figure running across the ice. He wore a white parka…one of the Russians. Then a gust of snow and steam blanketed over him.
“We have to move out now,” Craig said beside her, drawing her attention. “Use the distraction to grab what vehicles we can.”
“Who can drive a Cat?” Kowalski asked, pointing to the sturdy vehicle. It was only ten yards away.
Ogden raised his hand. “I can.”
Kowalski nodded. “Tom and I’ll grab a couple snowmobiles to act as flankers and decoys. The Cat should hold the rest of you. I’ve got two Molotovs left.” He tossed one to Tom. “We’ll do what we can to keep the Russians off your asses.”
“Let’s do it,” Craig said.
The group bolted toward the nearby Cat. Tom and Kowalski divided and ran for two Ski-Doos.
Henry reached the Sno-Cat first and yanked the door open. Zane and Magdalene clambered into the front seat while Henry tried the engine. It sputtered, then caught. The noise seemed loud, sure to draw the attention of the Russians now that the firefight had stopped. Hopefully the soldiers were still deafened by the rocket explosion. And if not, there was always the perpetually howling wind to cover the sound.
Jenny searched for any sign that they were heard. But the cloud from the rocket attack continued to mask the area. The winds blew the steamy smoke toward the station’s entrance, keeping the view blanketed. But it would not last long.
She heard one Ski-Doo engine wind up, then another. Tom and Kowalski had found their mounts.
“Inside!” Craig urged, pulling open the rear door for Amanda and Jenny.
As Amanda grabbed the edge of the doorframe, sharp barking cut through the engine noise.
Jenny stepped around the rear of the Cat.
She searched, then spotted movement. A figure lumbered from the snow fifty yards away. The lone Russian in the white parka. She hissed to Craig.
He came over. Amanda paused in the open door.
Jenny pointed to the armed figure, who seemed unaware of them. He had been close to the explosion. Probably dazed and deaf.
“We’ll have to take him out,” Craig said.
Then Jenny spotted another figure, dark and low to the ground. It was Bane. The wolf mix leaped at the man, bringing him down.
Craig saw it, too. “It looks like we won’t have to deal with the man after all. That is some mutt. A real attack dog.”
Jenny watched with a frown. Bane was not that sort of dog.
She watched the man wrestle the dog, then sit up on his knees and hug him, pulling the dog tight. She fell forward two steps. “It’s Matt!”
A sob escaped Matt as he clutched Bane.
He heard a small cry in the wind, but he couldn’t tell from where. He glanced up. Then he heard it again. Someone was calling his name.
Bane dashed a few steps, then turned back to Matt, clearly urging him to follow.
He did, one leg numbly stumbling after the next. He trudged after the dog, not believing his luck.
And he never should have.
Again a characteristic whistling wail pierced the winds.
Another rocket.
The Russians must know his goal. They were going to take out the parking lot, cutting off any means of escape.
Matt stumbled after Bane, meaning to catch the damn dog, drag him down. But the wolf kept running ahead. He raced among the first of the vehicles.
“Bane! No!”
Ever obedient, Bane stopped and spun back to look at him.
Then the rocket hit, blasting Matt back from the force of the concussion. He landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him. He felt the wash of heat from the explosion roll over him.
He cried in his heart and aloud. “No!”
He sat up. The parking lot ahead was gone, a blasted ruin of ice and torn vehicles. At the center gaped a hole clear to the ocean below.
Matt covered his face with his hands.
Jenny must have blacked out for a fraction of a second. One moment, she was standing by the Sno-Cat, calling out to Matt — the next she was on her back. She sat up, the world spinning slightly.
Her ears ringing, she lay some twenty feet from the Sno-Cat. She remembered the jolt as ice bucked under
