It was probably early afternoon now. If he slept even for just one hour, we’d be out of daylight before we caught back up to the main trail.
“I’m going to start a fire because I need to burn the bauk,” I told Dmitri. “But I don’t think we should make camp here. Even after I torch the body, there is blood all over the snow and these mountains have other predators besides him,” I gestured to Owen.
“Okay,” answered Dmitri. “I’ll help you gather the firewood.
OWEN was still asleep when I finished whistling the bauk’s body to ashes. He was too heavy for me to carry, but I could probably drag him through the snow. I tied the emergency blanket around his feet and then, using my sword belt and Owen’s tied together, made a daisy chain that attached to my backpack straps. I took a couple of steps and realized this method was not going to work. He was too heavy for me.
“I will help,” said Dmitri. He pulled his walking stick apart and telescoped each remaining piece out a few extra feet. He tied the emergency blanket with Owen wrapped inside to the bottoms of the poles and then crisscrossed the other ends of the poles in front of me, making a travois. I held onto the ends at my waist and took a step forward. The poles kept Owen’s weight suspended and it was much easier to pull him.
I grinned at Dmitri. “Very nice!”
“We will take turns,” he answered and led the way back up the slope. I followed, dragging Owen, and eyeballing the sun dropping in the sky.
When we finally got to the top of the slope, I took a long rest. My thighs were burning. Eventually, Dmitri gestured me back to my feet and he took his turn dragging the travois. He marched along easily and I wondered how strong he really was. He looked like an older man, his ashy-blond hair was streaked with gray and his face had deep laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. But he pulled Owen’s not inconsiderable weight without any hesitation.
We followed our own tracks for a while and then, when we reached a wide clearing, I stopped and said, “Let’s make camp here.”
Dmitri checked the sky, looked to the east, and then said, “We will wait here, yes. But I don’t think you’ll have time to make camp.”
“What?” I asked. And then I heard it too. Coming from the east, over the mountain, was a low-flying helicopter.
“Quick!” I said, dropping the travois poles, “Help me hide the swords in the snow!”
“There is no time,” Dmitri answered. “They have seen us.”
The helicopter swung in a wide arc in our direction and then dropped to land in the snow a hundred yards away. The spinning rotors send balls of ice whizzing at us and I made sure Owen’s face was protected. He still slept, despite the thumping noise.
The main cabin door opened and two figures hopped down into the snow. They were armed with machine guns and wore gray and white camo military uniforms, including helmets.
I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach.
They ran toward us through the blowing snow and when they got close, they shouted in Russian and gestured with their guns. Beside me, Dmitri lifted his hands in the air, so I did the same.
I was quickly disarmed of my knife and sword and Owen was loaded onto a stretcher, brought over by another set of men from inside the helicopter. I followed the stretcher with anxious eyes as we moved quickly toward the helicopter, Dmitri and I marching in the center of the armed group. My eyes watered in the chilly, churning wind.
Inside, I was handcuffed to my seat and someone put my seatbelt on. We lifted into the air and I met Dmitri’s eyes feeling terrified and uncertain. He smiled back at me reassuringly and then leaned his head back and shut his eyes like he was taking a nap.
I watched the snowy trees flash by from above and after just a short time, we landed in the courtyard of what looked like a small military base. There were several concrete buildings arranged in a square, all fenced in with barbed wire. I saw snow machines and a few more armed men and women walking around. Dmitri and I were uncuffed and helped out of the helicopter. On the ground again, a woman in gray fatigues gestured for us to follow her. I looked back at the helicopter and saw the stretcher with Owen being handed out. The two men carrying it went into a different building. I tried to control my panic.
Dmitri patted my back and we followed the woman into the largest building in the square. It was a squat, gray building with heavy doors. The woman escorting us showed her ID to a man behind a glass partition and when he waved at her, we walked inside. The woman led us down a dim hall and then stopped outside a room, gesturing inside.
We stepped into a small room. There was a folding table on one side, with four chairs arranged around it. The woman asked a question and Dmitri answered. He turned to me and asked, “Water?” I nodded. The woman left, locking the door behind her.
“We’re in big trouble, Dmitri,” I hissed. He waved his hands back at me and said dismissively. “This is not a James Bond movie. We are in a civilized country. We will answer some questions and they will let us go.”
I wasn’t sure of that at all. I paced around the room a couple of times and then sat in one of the folding chairs. I rested my head on my folded arms, but sat upright when the door opened. The woman entered again, carrying two bottles of water, followed by a tall man in a green officer’s uniform. He was in his
